Chapter 23
I’ve got the crack-corn!” Lou singsongs as she sashays into the family room, holding a massive bowl aloft like she’s won the Super Bowl or is presenting Simba to the Pride Lands.
Because of my spectacularly bad week (which they still don’t know all the details of—I haven’t told anyone about the journal yet), Lou deemed tonight a no-sad-topics-only--laughter--and-sugar-and-fun GNO.
“Oooh, gimme, gimme!” Talia makes grabby hands.
“I hope you brought wipes too,” I say as I also reach for a handful of the addicting—but sticky—caramel popcorn Lou always makes for movie nights in.
“That’s what your tongue is for.” She sticks hers out at me.
“Is that all?” Talia waggles her eyebrows at Lou, and she blushes.
“What’s going on?” I ask, baffled at the underlying communication between my two friends.
“Lou made out with Banker-Boy on her lunch date today.”
“Wait, what? I didn’t know you went out with him today!” I twist on the couch to face Lou, who is giving Talia a very stern glare that she immediately flips to a smile when she realizes I’m looking at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Well, up until a few hours ago, I thought you were still mad at me.”
I wince but can’t argue. I finally called both of my friends earlier today and apologized for getting so upset, which is why we’re having a girls’ night—to put the bad week behind us.
“And yes, we made out on our lunch date earlier today. But I’m taking it slow. Slow-and-Steady Lou, that’s me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing him so much now?” I push as I grab another handful of crack-corn.
Lou grimaces. “You’ve been kind of . . . preoccupied.” She hurries to add, “Understandably! There hasn’t really been a good time to bring it up.”
“And you weren’t talking to me,” Talia points out. “I tried calling, like, a million times.”
“Okay, that’s fair.” I exhale. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m kind of a mess.”
Lou sits next to me and puts her arm around my shoulders. “But a very cute mess.”
I laugh weakly. “Har har.”
“How is Farmor? Has there been any more progress?” Talia asks.
“I thought she squeezed my hand today,” I say, and both of their eyes widen. “But I don’t know; maybe I was imagining things. I did see her eyes move for sure a couple of times. They say that’s a good sign.”
“She is going to wake up soon, and when she does, she’s going to shock everyone by being totally fine. Trust me. I have a feeling. She’s a tough Swede—like her granddaughter.” Lou hugs me tighter, and I lean into her embrace.
“All right, all right, enough of the heavy stuff,” Talia bursts out.
“This is supposed to be a stress-free zone. All sad topics are off-limits. And I think Liv has something to share with the class,” Talia adds.
“Because a little birdie—we’ll call him Austin—told me you canceled your date with him tonight because you like Hunter. ”
My jaw falls open. “He didn’t. I didn’t!”
Both girls level fess-up-now looks at me.
“I did not!” I repeat, exasperated.
“Are you or are you not going out with Hunter tomorrow night?”
“She is,” a deep, husky voice says from the kitchen, and I shriek, clutching my chest.
“Seriously, Hunter?” Lou shouts. “This is a girls’ night!”
“Wait—he just confirmed they’re going out!” Talia shouts even louder.
I pull the blanket covering my legs up over my head, wishing I could sink into the cushions and disappear.
“You told me you’re having a movie night . . . I didn’t realize I wasn’t invited. I do live in this duplex, remember? Where am I supposed to go?”
“The gym? The library? I don’t care—just not here,” Lou says.
“Ouch. The library? What am I, twelve?”
“You and Livvy are going out tomorrow?” Talia presses. “Do you like . . . like her? Are you why she canceled her date with Austin?”
“She canceled her date with Austin?” Hunter counters, surprised and a little too delighted.
“Make it stop, make it stop,” I mumble, curling into a ball under my defense blanket.
“Wait—is that my mom’s crack-corn?” Hunter suddenly diverts.
“Maybe . . .” Lou hedges.
“You can’t kick me out when you made my mom’s secret caramel popcorn recipe.”
“Unless you have shaved legs and own more serums than socket wrenches, I can kick you out. This is a GIRLS’ NIGHT.”
“I’m wishing I didn’t have shaved legs and exfoliants right now,” I mutter from under my blanket.
“That would be tragic,” Hunter says. “I happen to be a fan of your shaved legs and fully support your ten-step skincare routine.”
Lou snorts her La Croix.
“Did he just say ten-step skincare routine?” Talia crows.
I whip off the blanket. “You’re commenting on my self-care rituals now?” He has an unfair advantage, using the same bathroom I do.
“Just proving I pay attention,” he says with a smirk.
Talia waves a hand. “Honestly? That’s hot.”
Lou choke-laughs on the popcorn she’s eating.
“That’s hot, huh?” Hunter quirks an eyebrow.
“Oh, for sure. Plus, you’ve got that whole tortured and mysterious vibe. You make it work.”
“This conversation has become wildly inappropriate for me to be a part of, seeing as he’s my cousin and the shaved-legs girl is my roommate!” But despite her protests, Lou’s laughing so hard she’s on the verge of crying.
“Have you all been drinking? Is this literally crack-corn? What is going on here?” I gawk at all three of them.
“No drinking,” Talia confirms.
“And last I checked, my mom’s recipe involves no actual crack. Unless Lou modified it.”
“No drugs of any sort have been inserted.” Lou shakes her head. “This is what you call a sugar high—plus my life being pretty dang good.”
“Lou’s using pseudocurse words. Things are really getting out of control.” Talia starts giggling, and then Lou is laughing, too, and even I can’t resist this time.
I have no idea why we’re all so punch drunk, but their laughter is contagious. Hunter is even grinning and teasing. I don’t know what has caused this change, but I’m here for it.
“Can’t a girl be excited that she closed the biggest deal of her life—”
“With her cousin’s expertise and help, of course,” Hunter interjects with a smirk.
“With her cousin’s expertise and help, of course,” she adds, “and has a dreamy boyfriend who likes her enough to only make out at lunch and agree to take things slow, and whose bestie is not in the hospital anymore, and that same bestie is now going out with her cousin, who is the happiest she’s seen him in, like, a million years? ”
I stare at her, wide-eyed. “Wow . . . that’s a lot to unpack. But when you put it like that, I think the answer is yes?”
“Yes, it’s a yes, you idiot! It means we can use all the pseudo-swears and eat all the sugar and act like we’re drunk when we’re not because we’re high on life!”
“Does this mean I get to stay?” Hunter asks.
“No!” Talia and Lou shout in unison and then both burst into hysterical laughter.
“Sexists,” he says, but he stands with a wink at me. “I guess I’ll go to the library or something. Good luck with these crazies.”
He grabs his keys and heads out the front door. I want to ask where he’s going, but I stay quiet while Lou and Talia continue to giggle about Lou’s make-out session in Chris the Banker’s Mercedes Benz.
“I’ve never seen him like that before,” I say when I’m sure he’s not coming back in.
I think I interrupted them midsentence, because they share a raised-eyebrow glance, and then Lou says, “He used to be like this all the time. Hunter was always teasing everyone, making us laugh until our stomachs hurt. He was the life of every party. Either he’s really excited about the deal he helped me close . . . or he really likes you.”
I flush, pulling the blanket around my shoulders a little bit tighter, even though it’s not really that cold.
“Nothing like professional success and a date with a hot girl to lift a guy’s mood,” Talia says.
But Lou doesn’t laugh this time. “You really do like him, don’t you?”
I lift a shoulder. “I . . . I think I do. And . . .”
“And?” Talia prompts.
“And I’m . . . a lot of things. Excited.
Nervous. And . . . terrified.” I pick at the blanket, not able to meet either of their eyes when I quietly say, “I’m sorry I got so mad at both of you.
Because you were right. He told me that I can’t scare him off because he already knows life can end for anyone at any time.
And that should make me thrilled, right? ”
“But it scared you,” Lou says, and I nod, the previous laughter gone.
“I do like him. A lot. And I want to date him and kiss him and see if it goes somewhere. But what if it does? What if we fall for each other? How can I let that happen, knowing how much he’s already endured—knowing I’m condemning him to more pain?”
“Livvy.” Lou scoots closer to me and wraps her arm around my shoulder. “You have to stop.”
I shrug beneath her arm with a nod, but my eyes are filling with tears again.
I’m like a freaking watering pot these days.
“I know. I know I need to think positive. I need to assume the best. But . . . I don’t know how.
I try. For seven years, I’ve tried. The best I can do is not think about it.
Because when I do go there, all I can think about is how scared I am that at any minute, my miracle is going to be taken away—and if it is, that means I have to pray for someone else to die so I can live.
You can’t really get any lower than hoping someone else will die in time to save you.
I don’t know what to pray for, what to cling to. ”
Talia snuggles into my other side. “Oh, Liv.” She and Lou wrap me in their arms, quietly absorbing my fear, my guilt, my constant internal battle.
After a little bit, Talia quietly says, “It’s normal to be scared. I bet it’s even normal to feel guilt. But you have to fight those thoughts. Tell them all the reasons they’re wrong.”
“You want me to talk to my thoughts?”
“Yes. Write them down if you have to—and then write down the reasons those thoughts are wrong.” Talia squeezes me.
“It’s what my therapist taught me after my parents’ divorce.
For example, if you catch yourself thinking, ‘I like Hunter, but I can’t let us get serious because I might die, and that would break his heart,’ you tell yourself, ‘Actually, I’m in really good health, I have amazing doctors, and if Hunter and I fall for each other, there’s no reason to assume anything will go wrong.
What if it all goes right? What if we get a lifetime together—if I am brave enough to reach for it? ’”
I’m full-on crying now, nose running, eyes leaking, shoulders shaking. Because she’s right. They’re all right. “I’m scared,” I admit. “I’m scared to fight back against my own fears because . . .”
“Because if you do, you might let yourself be happy?” Lou’s voice is soft.
I nod, sniffing and untangling my hands from the blanket to wipe at my wet face.
“And then it might get taken away,” Talia adds gently.
“It’s so dumb, I know.”
“It’s not dumb. You’ve been through a lot, Liv,” Talia says. “You lost your dad, then your grandpa, had to move to a different state, and then spent six months in the hospital your senior year, not knowing if you’d live or die. I think it’s understandable that you’re afraid.”
Lou grips my hand while Talia rubs my back.
“But you can do this—you can choose to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”
“What I don’t deserve is you two. I sure know how to bring down a no-sad-topics girls’ night, huh? One minute, you’re both laughing hysterically about shaved legs and making out with a banker in a Benz, and the next, you’re having to console me because of my looming death fears.”
“Your very-far-in-the-distance death fears, you mean,” Talia corrects me.
“My hopefully very-far-in-the-distance death fears,” I concede.
“Good enough . . . for now,” Talia says.
“And don’t worry. You didn’t ruin anything. What’s a girls’ night without someone having a complete breakdown?” Lou teases. “But my crack-corn is getting more solid by the minute, and this new Chris Hemsworth movie isn’t going to watch itself. Let’s get this party started!”
“He’s one of those guys who keeps getting better with age.” Talia bites the corner of her lip.
And just like that, we’re back to giggling, albeit with tear-streaked cheeks and a snotty nose—at least on my end.
“Let me grab you a tissue,” Lou offers.
“No, I’m fine. I can grab my own tissue. You start the movie.” I stand up, leaving them on the couch, discussing who else has aged well, and head to the bathroom to blow my nose and wash my face. I’m drying my hands when my phone vibrates in my back pocket.
I pull it out to see a text from Hunter.
Hope you are having fun with the shaved-legs-and-skin-care crew. I can’t wait for tomorrow night. Just wanted to tell you. Also, I hope you have a good pair of dancing shoes!
I quickly type back, I’m excited too. But . . . DANCING SHOES?? You know clubs are not really my scene . . .
No clubs. Promise.
Then why the shoes??
He sends me the speak no evil monkey emoji.
I need details.
You’ll have to wait and see.
Fine. Be that way. But I’m smiling as I look at my screen, watching the three dots move as he types a response.
All will be revealed in due time. Enjoy your movie.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and try to wipe the goofy grin off my face before I go back out.
As I squish myself back in between my two best friends and grab more caramel popcorn, Talia says without taking her eyes off the screen, “What did you do in there, give yourself a facial?”
“No.” I purse my lips. “If you must know, Hunter was texting me.”
“Ooooh,” Lou singsongs. “Smexy texts from my cousin! I don’t know if I should be excited for you or grossed out right now.”
“They weren’t smexy. Just . . . sweet.” When Lou starts to laugh, I smack her on the arm. “Shut up. Watch your movie, and eat your crack-corn.”
“Wise words,” Talia says with a laugh-snort.
But even though I sit there beside them and look at the TV, technically watching the movie, I can barely remember the main characters’ names by the end because all I can think about is why I need dance shoes for tomorrow—and what it would feel like to have Hunter’s arms around me again.