Chapter 16
Walking into Lily is like wandering into a magical forest that smells like lavender and musk and has tiny bath bombs and singular batch coffee grounds everywhere.
The quietness of the shop settles onto my shoulders as I step into the dark space on my first morning as the manager. Alana gave me the rundown over the weekend about exactly what needed to be done in her local goods and wares store, and I told her I’d be there Monday morning to see to it.
These kind of small-town market shops—with all their trinkets, handmade goods, and locally-sourced products—always hold such charm. They draw the shopper in from the window, effortlessly calling out to people who want to take a piece of the sweet river town we live in.
I’m thankful to have a job here where I can put some of my skills to use more than when I’m working shifts at the restaurant. Here, I can practice the organizational side of any job I want—one where I have to keep on top of things. And lord knows this place needs a little TLC.
While Lily’s bones are beautiful, whoever the last manager was hadn’t done a very good job cataloging things. Once Alana went on maternity leave, things fell by the wayside, and she couldn’t keep on top of the person running the store. As such, the books are a mess, the back stock supply looks like my closet did in middle school, and there aren’t very good systems in place.
I spend much of the morning with the sign turned on the door, ensuring that no customers will come in wanting to shop. I use a spreadsheet method to catalog how much product we have of each item, stocking those that are low on the floor and rearranging a lot of the shelves so that similar products are highlighted in the same section.
By the time I break to get a coffee and a scone, I’ve worked up a light sweat and am panting.
Just as I’m about to dig into my little reward treat for such good work thus far, the door creaks open, even though I know the sign on the window says we’re closed.
The bell rings over top of it, and in walks my roommate. The roommate who I definitely didn’t fantasize about when I heard the shower water running through the walls this morning.
I woke this morning with a pounding headache and dry mouth. I almost forgot why I didn’t go out in college more, but then I have nights like last evening, and I remember I hate starting my day this way. Even now, I still feel the dull pulse at my temples, and it throbs just enough to be annoying and keep me from harder work.
What’s worse is that Evan drove me home last night, and I don’t remember it. Or much of the last hours at the bar. I feel ashamed for getting that drunk, as I always do with that much alcohol in my system, because I don’t know if I embarrassed myself. The “hangxiety,” as they call it, is really today.
“Place looks like it’s being whipped into shape,” he comments, giving me a thumbs-up as he walks to the checkout counter where I was sipping my coffee.
“Hi. Uh, yes. I’m trying, at least.” I give him a small smile.
“While Kelly was very nice, she probably wasn’t the best manager to hire. Alana was in a pinch with the baby coming, though. I’m glad you’re here to give it the facelift it needs, you’re much more suited and capable.”
The compliment hits me right in the heart, and I want to beam.
“Thank you, that means a lot. I’ve got a ways to go, but this place has much more potential than is being used. A little elbow grease and it will shine.”
“Definitely.”
An awkward silence passes, and I get this strange feeling in my gut. My neck hairs prickle like something bad is coming.
“We should talk about last night.” He circles the table again, picking up a knickknack as if he needs something to do with his hand.
My stomach drops. Oh God, what did I do when I was drinking?
“Did I try to grope you or something?” I laugh nervously, trying to make a joke out of the whole thing, but that was definitely the stupidest thing I could say.
Please, dear God, I hope I did not do that.
He shakes his head, scratching his jaw awkwardly. “No, uh, you didn’t. But you did say something. And normally, I wouldn’t bring it up because I don’t want you to be embarrassed. But I hate that you told me something like this and probably don’t remember. So, now, I’m just walking around with this piece of information, and it feels like I shouldn’t have it unless you know you gave it to me? That sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but I swear I’m trying to be noble?”
Evan sounds completely unsure of himself, of even coming here, and I’m shaking with panic inside, but I’m also confused. If I don’t remember, why can’t he just keep it to himself?
“I’m not sure—” I start to speak, but he cuts me off.
“You were drunk, and I drove you home. We almost got up to the door of the house, and you said … well, I asked why you didn’t get that guy’s number, the one you danced with?”
The conversation doesn’t even ring a bell, and I’m horrified with myself that I had so many drinks. When I don’t say anything, because my heart is blocking my throat, Evan continues.
“Anyway, you said you weren’t interested in him. That you were only interested in one guy in high school, and maybe Hope Crest in general? You said that you’d been into him for years, but he hadn’t noticed you.”
Oh dear God, no. Please, please, do not let me have been so stupid. Fuck, no, no.
“And then you said, well, you said that guy was me. That you’d always had a crush on me, and that I didn’t know you existed. And I feel really horrible for not stopping you before you said it, but now I know and I also feel so guilty for knowing while you might not remember that I do know? It’s all confusing, but I thought we should probably just get it all out on the table.”
I want to die. I want to shrivel up and fall into the ground under this shop and simply die. The mortification alone might do the trick.
My whole body is hot and cold, and bile is rising in my throat as if I might throw up. My hands are shaking slightly, and the room seems to spin as panic grips me by the neck.
A choking noise comes out of my mouth the first time I attempt to speak, and I flush even hotter at the humiliating noise. Clearing my throat, I try again.
“Evan, I apologize. I was drunk and probably saying stupid things. I, uh …” How the hell do I put an end to this interaction?
That’s what I’d like to do. Maybe leave Hope Crest forever? Move to a remote village where the Ashtons can never find me again? Oh my God, I might actually cry in front of him.
For so long, I’ve worked to conceal my silly, girlish emotions when it comes to him. I never let on nor let them get the better of me when we moved in together. Then came drinks at a bar, and I spilled all my guts? Jeez, I am pathetic.
I was not better not knowing. Because knowing that I told him this, and if I wasn’t aware going forward that he knew? God, that would be mortifying to the thousandth degree. Still, it’s mortifying no matter which way you slice it.
Evan gives me a sympathetic smile, which only makes me want to cringe.
“If you’re embarrassed about this, don’t be. I’m flattered. More than flattered, I’m … honored seems like a stupid word to use here, but you could have anyone you want, August. And you had a crush on me? This idiot baby of his family who wanted to run off to cook all over the world? You were so damn adorable when you told me.”
Adorable? Yep, I want to die right here on this spot.
“You’re making this sound so much worse.” I splay my fingers over my eyes as if trying to hide.
“I’m probably doing a shit job of this. I’m sorry.” Evan’s voice sounds full of regret. “My intention for telling you was to say that I’m flattered and that you were wrong. You might not remember this either, you had a hell of a night, and I’m damn proud I got to witness you let your hair down, but I told you that I noticed you. Of course, I noticed you. How the hell could I not?”
And now my anger comes out because it pisses me off, irrationally, since I’m the one who told him that he has this information and gets to have some upper hand.
“No, don’t do that. Don’t pity me. Don’t make up some bullshit to make me feel better.” I point my finger as if accusing him.
Evan takes a step back, my reaction surprising him. “I’m not making anything up, August. While I admit you didn’t catch my eye as early as I might have caught yours, I did notice you. With all the fawning my family did over you, it would be hard not to. It’s so much more than that, though. You’re beautiful, inside and out. You have one of the purest souls I’ve ever encountered; it’s like you only want to make other people’s lives easier and carefree. Come to think of it, that’s why you’re so perfect for hospitality. You never complain, even when your circumstances are downright terrible. I see you, August. I know you exist, and it’s a fucking blessing that you do.”
But his words fall on ears that can’t hear him, not in their rage. I’m so angry at the world, at this point, for burying me under so much shit I can’t process it anymore. It just comes out in clumps of anger hurled at whoever is closest.
“If it weren’t for your family, you’d never have given me another glance. That’s what’s at the root of your statement. Plus, I see how you are when I’m around them. Like some kind of jealous fool, because you’d have to be a fool if you think they value me more than you. You’re their blood, their child and brother. I’m just some waitress, and yet, you acted like an irrational idiot at that dinner. Making me feel humiliated that they’d side with me over you.”
My words spill out like lava, destroying everything in their path.
Now his face is steely, and the mention of his jealousy and family has hit a nerve. “That’s not what happened.”
“Yes, it is, and don’t try to deny it. Just like I’m not denying my crush. The crush of a schoolgirl who didn’t even really know you.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? Now that you do know me, you don’t like what I’ve shown you?” His voice grows defensive.
My heart and head have had about all they can handle. The humiliation, upset, and anger are taking an emotional toll that I can’t tolerate right now. We’ve been dancing around this attraction, and now it’s spoiled again. I stopped us from taking this step mere days ago when he wanted to kiss me. I couldn’t commit to anything, too caught up in my own thoughts, and nothing has changed.
Except … everything has. If I let him in now, if we started something, I’ll always wonder if he’s just scratching an itch because I admitted my feelings first.
“Evan, if you have any good will toward me at all, you’ll stop this conversation right now. I’m mortified, to be honest, and I have too much to worry about here and with my financial situation. I shouldn’t have told you that, and now that you’ve done your duty of relaying my drunken message, you’re off the hook.”
A muscle tics in his cheek, and his eyes search mine like he wants to say more. I’ve turned the charming jokester into someone who is surly and brooding, and it sucks that he’s so attractive in both roles.
“Fine,” he grits out.
The conversation went so off the rails I’m not sure how we got here. But I avert my eyes, not waiting for him to bid me farewell or doing the same for him.
He leaves, and my head pounds harder with pain than it did this morning. Tears I won’t let fall clog up my ducts, and my temples ache, making my whole head sing with agony.
I’ve just made it that much harder on myself to be back in my hometown, and I didn’t even consciously know I was doing it.