Chapter 33
thirty-three
I lied. Well, kind of. I do want to be Lizzy’s best friend again. But I also want more.
Deep down, I’ve always known she’s my soulmate, my forever girl. Now I just need to remind her, convince her we’re meant to be—and I’m going to do everything in my power to do just that.
Once inside my apartment, I head straight for my laptop and pull up my email, firing off a quick message to my assistant, asking him to add Lizzy as a second passenger to my Friday flight home.
I lean back in my chair, scrubbing a nervous hand over my face. Lizzy’s going to L.A. with me.
This is really happening. Part of me still can’t believe she’s agreed to this ruse. Even thinking it makes my heart race like a damn teenager’s.
The irony isn’t lost on me—my teenage summer girlfriend is now going to be my fake girlfriend.
Next, I send a quick email to my lawyer asking him to update the NDA ASAP with a few modifications.
A strange sense of satisfaction washes over me as I click SEND and close my laptop. Everything’s falling into place. Three days in L.A. with Lizzy alone, away from prying eyes. It’s the perfect chance to show her who I’ve become, to prove I’m not the same guy who left her behind.
My phone buzzes on the coffee table.
LOGAN
Hey man, just checking in. How you holding up today?
Confused, I stare at the message. Why would he be checking—?
Fuck.
When I look at the calendar and see what day it is, the realization hits me hard. It’s the anniversary of my parents’ deaths. Twenty years ago today, they passed away.
I forgot.
Guilt crashes through me. What kind of son forgets the day his parents died? I close my eyes, leaning forward to rest my head in my hands.
PING!
LOGAN
You there, bro?
My fingers hover over the screen as I try to formulate a response that doesn’t make me sound like the world’s biggest asshole.
Yeah. Thanks for checking in.
It’s not a lie, but it’s not the whole truth either. Logan knows me too well, though.
LOGAN
Want company? I can swing by after my shift.
Thanks, but I think I need to be by myself today.
LOGAN
No prob. Just remember you’re not alone.
Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m grabbing my keys and wallet. I need to go.
Pulling a baseball cap low over my eyes and sliding on my sunglasses, I head out the door. The drive to Lakeside Cemetery—which is on the opposite side of town from where I’m staying—will take about ten minutes with traffic.
My hands grip the steering wheel. The last time I visited their graves was the day before graduation. I’d gone alone, sat between their headstones, and told them all about my plans. How I was going to make them proud.
Now here I am, two decades later, having completely forgotten what day it is.
Streets blur past as I drive, memories flooding back with each familiar turn. My mom’s laugh. My dad’s firm hand on my shoulder. Family dinners.
“Shit,” I whisper into the empty car.
Wrought-iron arches with “Lakeside Cemetery” curve over the top of the cemetery gates. My stomach twists as I drive under them, following the winding path through rows of headstones until I reach the place where my parents are buried.
Killing the engine, I sit in silence for a moment, steeling myself.
When I finally step out of the car, the midday sun beats down on my head as birds chirp cheerfully in the trees. Weaving between gravestones, I make my way across the perfectly manicured grass until I find them.
Their headstones are well-maintained. Someone has been taking care of them. Logan, probably. Maybe Lizzy’s parents. Another wave of guilt crashes over me.
I sink to my knees between their graves, removing my hat. “Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad,” I whisper, voice cracking. “Been a while.”
The wind rustles through the trees, sending shadows dancing across the marble.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been back. And I’m so freaking sorry I forgot what day it was.” I run my fingers over the engraved letters of my mother’s name. “I’ve been... busy isn’t the right word. I tried for so long to forget. This place. The memories.”
A lump forms in my throat as I continue. “I’m making movies now. Big ones. You’d be proud of me. At least I hope you would be.
“I came back to make a movie about... well, about us. About this place. About me, Lizzy and Logan.” I swallow hard, plucking a weed from out of the ground near my father’s headstone. “I miss you.”
The words hang in the air, along with the scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers someone left on a nearby grave.
“I’m trying to fix things with Lizzy,” I confess, my voice a raspy whisper. “I hurt her, Dad. More than once. You always told me to own up to my mistakes, and I’m trying. God, I’m trying.”
A gentle breeze picks up, brushing along the back of my neck. It reminds me of how my mom used to ruffle my hair when I was upset.
“She’s coming to L.A. with me,” I continue, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the heaviness in my chest. “It’s kind of messed up, but she thinks it’s just for show, to help my career. But I’m hoping... I’m hoping it’ll be more.”
I sit in silence for a while, watching clouds drift lazily across the blue sky.
This place used to terrify me. After the funeral, I couldn’t even look at the cemetery gates without feeling like I was going to throw up.
Now, there’s a strange kind of peace. A connection to my past that I’ve been running from for far too long.
A shadow falls across the grass in front of me.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Startled, I look up.
Standing a few feet away, hair gently lifting in the breeze, Lizzy gives me a sad smile. Dressed in blue jeans and an off the shoulder white T-shirt, she glances away, nervously toeing at the grass.
“How did you know I was here?”
“Logan texted me.” She sighs. “He was worried about you,” she adds softly.
My heart squeezes when her expression shifts to one of concern.
I quickly swipe at the wetness streaking down my face.
“I’m fine,” I say, clearing my throat.
She doesn’t call me out on the lie, just comes over and kneels down beside me.
For a long moment, neither of us says anything.
The silence between us feels familiar. Similar to the countless times we sat quietly reading together when we were kids.
We didn’t always need words. Just being in each other’s presence was enough.
“I used to come here sometimes,” she murmurs. “After you left the first time. I’d sit here and talk to them. Tell them about my day. About Logan. About...” She hesitates. “About missing you.”
Her confession hits unexpectedly hard. I turn my head to look at her, taking in the slight furrow between her brows and how her mouth curves down in a soft frown.
“Why?” I ask, puzzled. “After everything I—”
“They were like second parents to me,” she cuts in simply. “And I thought... I don’t know. I guess I thought they’d want to know you were okay. So whenever Logan got a call or email from you, I’d come and tell them what he told me.”
My throat tightens at the thought of a pre-teen Lizzy sitting here alone, talking to my dead parents about me, making my throat ache with a combination of gratitude and shame.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I know.” Then the smirk comes. “At first, I would rant and rave about what you did. About how hurt I was.”
“You tattled on me to my dead parents?”
A smile breaks out across her face as she closes her eyes and tilts her head back, basking in the sun.
Damn, she’s beautiful.
“I guess you could call it that.” She opens her eyes and looks at me. “It was before I had any sort of therapy. It helped.”
“Your parents were good people,” she adds. “They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
I swallow hard as the names etched in stone blur before my eyes. “No, they didn’t.”
We sit in silence for a few more minutes. It feels right—her being here with me—almost like a piece that’s been missing clicking back into place.
“I forgot what day it was,” I say quietly, shame flowing through my veins again. “What kind of person does that make me?”
She turns to face me. “Human. Grief isn’t linear. Sometimes the only way to survive is to forget for a little while.”
“Is that what you did with me?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Try to forget?”
Her eyes widen slightly before she looks away. “I tried. Didn’t work very well. Took a long time before I didn’t think about you every day.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at her admission. “I never forgot about you.”
“You just refused to speak to me,” she says, but there’s no bite to her words.
“I was scared,” I admit. “Scared of how much it would hurt to hear your voice, knowing I couldn’t see you. Scared you’d moved on. Scared you hadn’t.”
“I understand that now.”
Relief washes over me, and suddenly I’m ready to go. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
We both stand at the same time, turning to face each other. My heart clenches as I look into her eyes.
She’s so close I can see the flecks of gold speckled in green, smell the faint scent of her jasmine shampoo.
My gaze drops to her lips—those full, perfect lips I’ve been dreaming about every night for as long as I can remember.
The urge to kiss her, to pull her against me and show her everything I’ve been feeling is so overwhelming, it’s damn near excruciating.
I shouldn’t. Not next to my parents’ graves. Not with my emotions running sky high.
But before I can make a hasty retreat, Lizzy lunges forward. Wrapping her arms tightly around my waist, she presses her face against me, her warmth seeping through my shirt.
“I might still be a little pissed at you,” she mumbles against my chest, “but it doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
My breath catches in my throat as I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her close as I rest my chin on top of her head, breathing her in.
“I know,” I whisper into her hair.
We stand like that for what feels like forever. When she finally pulls away, her eyes are a little bloodshot as she quickly blinks away the shine.
With a tilt of her head, she grabs my hand. Lacing her fingers with mine, we start walking back to our cars. “Feel up to getting some ice cream?”
Heart squeezing, I suck in a cleansing breath. “Yeah. That sounds great.”