28. 28
Delaney spends the rest of the night organizing her things and finding a place for her luggage. My loft is tight—there isn’t a lot of room—but she figures it out. I think this means she’s staying. Neither of us has brought up her finding a new place again.
I’ve been alone for a long time. I never had a roommate after I left Mom’s. And I surprise myself by not minding having Delaney around all the time. She’s quiet at times—I think when she’s writing music in her head. I’ve paused to watch her scribble in her notebook more than a couple times during her cleaning process.
Tonight she has her own pj’s, though I’ve given her the button-up pajama top. I never wore it anyway, and I won’t be able to look at it without seeing her in it. She might as well take it.
She exits the bathroom—makeup-less, teeth brushed, and hair in a bun on top of her head. I swallow and blink and remind myself not to stare. She is beautiful.
And more so like this than all made up.
I scan away from her as I head into the bathroom myself. There’s a teal bra hanging from the inside of my bathroom door handle, a purple toothbrush next to my blue one, and a pink bag with a monogrammed L on the front of it sitting on the back of my toilet. And the entire room smells of roses.
Delaney Jones has officially moved in.
I don’t hate it. Her things take up hardly any space, and I like the rose scent.
I brush my teeth and wash my face, splashing cold water over my eyes and neck again and again before leaving the Lane-infested bathroom.
She’s tucked in bed—my bed—but her eyes are bright like sapphires as she scans over to me.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi.”
I lay next to her, on my back, hands beneath my head, and stare up at the ceiling, making sure in this tight space that not even my arm brushes hers.
I can hear her breathing; she isn’t asleep.
And I’m curious. So I ask, “Why Coeur d’Alene?”
I feel rather than see as she rolls onto her side to face me. “Hmm?”
“I get that you needed somewhere quiet to get away after everything with that reality show went wrong. But why Coeur d’Alene? How did you pick this town?” I glance over at her.
”Um.” Her teeth clamp onto that bottom lip—possibly just to draw my eyes there. I”m not sure. But I do think Delaney enjoys seeing me squirm. ”Well.” She swallows and squirms a little herself. ”I have one memory of a happy family. No judging mother, no gambling father—just a mom, a dad, and two girls on vacation. My dad won this work trip”—her eyes widen a little—”back when he still worked. And for some strange reason, I was too young to identify the why—why we came without anyone arguing or belittling or hurting the other. We swam in the pool, played golf, stayed up too late, and ate too much food. We just had fun together. It was the strangest, most beautiful day of my life.” Her tone is whimsical as if reliving a dream. Her eyes flutter at nothing in the dimness and then over to me. ”I never understood why we couldn’t be like that all the time. When the show aired, kicking up all the dirt and drama with it, I needed some peace. I needed somewhere I felt safe.” She rolls onto her back. “Someplace the media wouldn’t suspect me to be and where I could shut out the world. Coeur d’Alene came to mind and just seemed like it could be that place. Again.”
She’s done and I’m processing her words. I never had the father I should have. But we always had Mom, and she took care of us. She loved us more than enough for two parents. We weren’t the perfect family, but we were happy.
“It’s silly,” she says.
“It’s not,” I say. “Besides, it’s a great place to get married.”
Quiet laughter spills from her lips. “Well, yeah. Of course there’s that.”