22. Ethan, Two Months Later
Chapter 22
Ethan, Two Months Later
I can tell you, down to the day, how long a person’s smell lingers on bedsheets.
Ask me how I know.
Every day single day after she left, I reached out, hoping to feel Lily’s warmth beside me. It’s not like we even got into the habit of sleeping in the same bed. We only did it a couple of times, and both of those times, I’d said it was a mistake. And yet, I kept doing it. Hoping to find her next to me, only to touch cold sheets, and remember that she was gone.
Eight days. That’s how long her smell lasted. Strawberries and spice. I’d missed her so fiercely that I had got into the habit of sleeping in her old bed. At first, I’d done it to remember her scent, but then I’d gotten so used to the feeling of that new sofa sleeper mattress, I couldn’t go back to my old bed.
On the ninth day, as I’d slipped between the sheets and smelled nothing but myself, I thought that would be the end of it. Eight days of grieving, eight days of not being able to get her out of my head, then back to normal life. That had been the plan.
But the grief lingered far longer than Lily’s scent had.
With a groan, I forced myself up. I had a busy day ahead of me, but then again, I always had a busy day ahead of me.
Ava wasn’t up yet. She’d been less good at getting up recently, and I normally had to head into her room to nudge her awake. It wasn’t quite time yet, so I headed down to the kitchen and whipped up a bunch of batter for Ava’s favorite breakfast—chocolate chip pancakes. A surefire way to brighten any eight-year-old’s morning. Or so I hoped.
Once I had a nice big pile of the things waiting for her, I padded back upstairs.
Ava’s room was dark and peaceful. I was tempted to get in bed beside my little girl and surrender to the bliss of slumber once more. But obviously, I couldn’t. I was a single dad. Responsibilities and all that.
Ava was curled up with a unicorn toy clutched in her hands. The unicorn was holding a sword made out of an old toilet roll that Ava and Lily had made together, to transform the creature into a unicorn warrior. The truth was, in spite of her short stay here, Lily was all over this damn house.
“Good morning, Raver,” I said, stroking her hair.
She stirred and yawned. “What’s good about it?”
“Pancakes, that’s what.”
She smiled weakly. But by the time she was at the table, ready to eat, her smile was long gone.
“Here you go, kiddo,” I said, sliding a stack onto her plate. “Dig in.”
Ava poked at the pancakes with her fork. “Thanks, Dad. These are great.”
I frowned. “Everything okay?”
She shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, all good.”
“Looking forward to school?”
Another shrug. “Remember the time when Lily made those crazy pancakes?”
I sighed. We were both suffering from the same condition. Lilylessness. “Oh boy, do I. That was quite a morning, huh?”
Ava chuckled. “They were so weird.”
“Weird is an understatement.” I shook my head, smiling at the memory. Lily was trying to make ‘ocean-themed’ pancakes for Ava’s marine biology project. She used way too much blue food coloring and somehow managed to spill half a bottle of vanilla extract in the batter.
“They smelled amazing but tasted like . . . I don’t even know what.”
“Like someone had liquefied a blueberry muffin and a bottle of perfume,” I offered. “And let’s not forget how she accidentally used salt instead of sugar.”
Ava giggled. “But remember how proud she was when she made them look like fish?”
“Yeah, oddly shaped, bright blue fish that could probably ward off sharks with their smell alone.”
She nodded, then asked softly, “Do you think Lily will ever visit?”
The question caught me off guard, a dull ache blooming in my chest. “Maybe, sweetheart. You miss her?”
“Yup.”
“Maybe we can arrange another phone call.”
I’d organized the first call because Ava had been missing Lily so badly. Even though Lily had agreed to speak to Ava, I got the distinct impression she didn’t want to speak to me .
Ava nodded, still pushing food around her plate. “Okay, but it’s not the same. I miss her.”
I’d heard almost nothing from Lily. I got snatches of information from Elara every now and then, but nothing more than, “She’s doing fine,” and the like. I thought about her all the time, but I kind of didn’t want to know how things were going. No doubt she was seeing someone new. Someone young and handsome. Someone who could give her the romance she so badly craved.
“I know, Ava. I’m sorry you miss her.” I reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “Now, do you want to go over your spelling words one more time?”
“We didn’t get spelling words this week, Dad.”
“For real? Huh.”
A shake of the head. “Nope. Not this week.” I wished I could take away all of Ava’s sadness for her. But I couldn’t. And by driving Lily away, I’d probably added to it.
After breakfast, I took Ava to school.
She unbuckled her seatbelt but hesitated before opening the car door.
“Dad?” she asked.
“Yeah, kiddo?”
“I thought you and Lily were in love.”
It felt like getting sucker punched. “Oh yeah? Why did you think that?”
Ava shrugged, fidgeting with the straps of the backpack that lay in her lap. “It’s dumb.”
“It’s okay, sweetie, you can tell me.”
“Well, at the end of Matilda , Miss Honey becomes Matilda’s guardian. Like, not exactly her mom, but kind of her mom. I don’t want just Lily to be my mom—not without you—but I thought she might . . . if she fell in love with you, and you fell in love with her, then it would be like a storybook coming true. Like a fairy tale.”
I ran a hand through my hair, searching for the right words. I didn’t want to lie anymore. “Ava, sweetheart, the truth is, I did have feelings for Lily. But it didn’t work out.”
Her brow furrowed. “She didn’t love you back?”
“Not exactly. It was complicated.” I felt like the world’s biggest asshole struggling to explain adult relationships to my eight-year-old daughter. “Real life isn’t like stories.”
“Never ever?”
My heart ached. I undid my seatbelt and hopped over into the back to sit next to Ava, before wrapping an arm around her and pulling her in close.
“It’s rare, darling. When you’re a kid, it feels as though everything is possible. But as you get older, things get more and more complicated until it feels like everything’s impossible.”
“I don’t want to grow up.”
I kissed her on the forehead.
***
At least I had work to take my mind off things. The Spyder sat in the middle of the garage. I’d been meaning to fix it for weeks now, but every time I psyched myself up to start working on the bodywork, I’d find some lame excuse to do something else.
It was Lily who’d wrecked the damn car, and this weird little part of me didn’t want to smooth out the damage she’d caused.
Totally nuts, but there it was. I couldn’t catch her scent on my sheets anymore, but at least I could see the dents she’d left on my priceless ride.
I made myself a coffee and looked around the garage, trying to figure out which job to tackle first. The Vladmobile was another task I couldn’t handle taking on right now. In fact, I didn’t feel like working at all. I didn't feel like doing anything. Not even going for a swim in the freezing cold ocean. I didn't want to try to shock Lily out of my system—that was the problem. I wanted to smell her, taste her, feel her. Savor her.
I sipped the coffee, which also reminded me of Lily.
“Damn it,” I muttered.
I took out my phone and brought up Lily’s number. I started to type, and it took me a couple of times to get the wording right.
Hey. I made pancakes for Ava this morning. She said they didn’t hold a candle to those blue ones you made. She really misses you. Give us a heads-up if you ever swing by Bluehaven. She’d love to see you.
I set down the phone and forced myself to get to work, but I found myself glancing at the screen every few minutes. I could see that she had read the message, but there was no reply. I didn’t blame her. Most likely she just wanted to get on with her new life romancing Chad McStudden.
“Come on, McCoy,” I muttered to myself. “Get it together. You’re the one who sent her away.”
I’d been thinking a lot about Chad McStudden, actually. Or whoever Lily had replaced me with. He was twenty-eight and had no kids. He was independently wealthy and could spend all his time thinking up elaborate, over-the-top romantic gestures to take Lily’s breath away. He’d never been through any trauma and was well-adjusted and kind, as well as being a sensitive, generous lover.
I hated Chad.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It wasn’t a message, but an actual call. Not Lily, though—it was the school. I wiped my greasy hands on a rag before answering.
“Mr. McCoy? This is Ms. Brown.”
My stomach dropped. “Is everything all right?”
“Ava’s had a difficult morning.”
“Is she sick? Do I need to pick her up?”
“No, no, she’s all right. She's just been dealing with some very Big Feelings since her spelling test.”
“Spelling test? She didn’t have one this week—right?”
“She had one this morning.”
“Right.”
My heart fell as I realized Ava had been hiding work from me again.
“Anyway, we’ve received the results from Ava’s comprehensive learning assessment. I’d love you to come in to discuss them sometime soon.”
“What’s the diagnosis?” I asked, heart racing.
“It’s not dyslexia as we initially suspected. It’s actually something called Irlen Syndrome.”
I was panicking now. Full-throttle. “Is that worse?”
“It’s just different,” replied Ms. Brown. “While dyslexia affects how the brain processes language, Irlen Syndrome is more about visual processing.”
“So . . . it’s not about understanding the words, but seeing them clearly?”
“Yes. It can make reading challenging, especially with certain lighting or high-contrast text. That’s why that colored overlay has been so good for her.” She paused. “You did a good job spotting that she was struggling, Mr. McCoy. She was hiding it well by not handing in her work.”
“Ethan. Don’t bother with Mr. McCoy. And I didn’t spot it. Ava’s nanny did.”
“Ah yes. Lily. I’ve heard so much about her. Seems like she has done wonders for Ava’s self-confidence. And now that we have her diagnosis, we have tools to help Ava continue to learn and grow.”
I ran a hand through my hair, guilt gnawing at me. “Things have been tough lately. I had to let Ava’s nanny go.”
“Ethan,” said Ms. Brown. “You’re a good dad. You have nothing to feel bad about. It’s clear that you’re doing your very best.”
My very best. Which clearly wasn’t good enough.
“I’ll email you some information about Irlen Syndrome and suggest a few times for our meeting,” said Ms. Brown. “In the meantime—”
“I’ll try not to fuck everything up,” I cut in. “Crap. Sorry. Didn’t mean to curse. Damn.”
After hanging up, I stared at the unfinished Ferrari. “Shit,” I muttered to the car. “I need a break.”
***
I was a masochist.
Why did I keep coming back here?
I pushed open the door to Happy Ever Affogato, and as soon as I walked in, I knew that this was not the break I needed.
When Lily had left town, I had kind of assumed that her bookstore would close down. But it didn’t happen. A couple of weeks after she left, to my surprise, I saw that the place reopening.
Lily had employed Yolande as Manager. Yolande had worked here in the past, as Lily’s assistant, but it was strange to see her running the place alone.
“Hey, Ethan,” she greeted me without smiling, her black-lined eyes peering at me from under a fringe of jet-black bangs. “The usual?”
Yolande was the epitome of goth chic. Her pale skin practically glowed against her all-black ensemble–a Victorian-inspired corset top over a flowing skirt that brushed the tops of her combat boots. A choker with a silver bat charm adorned her neck.
I nodded, settling onto a stool. “Thanks.”
The store had undergone a vampire-inspired makeover since Yolande had taken over. Gone were the porcelain dogs and comfy cushions, replaced by flickering LED candles, deep red velvet drapes, and bookshelves with fake cobwebs sprayed on them so that they looked like they’d been salvaged from an ancient castle. Posters of brooding, pale-skinned heroes and heroines gazed down from the walls.
As ridiculous as the new decor was, I had to admit there was something comforting about being surrounded by stories of love, even if they involved more fangs than I was used to.
Yolande handed me a steaming macchiato, and I took a sip. It wasn’t bad, but . . . it wasn’t the same. I didn’t even love macchiatos that much. I just wanted a taste of the past.
Still, I was also here for a taste of the future. “Say, Yolande,” I asked, “any news on when book three of Lavender Farms is gonna hit the shelves?”
“Next week,” Yolande said. “You finished Millie’s story?”
“I did.”
“What did you think of the candle scene?”
“A little . . . impractical. Let’s leave it at that.”
Yolande’s lips quirked into a half-smile, but she quickly corrected herself and went back to her serious expression. “And wasn’t Archie, that rock star character, the worst?”
“The absolute fucking worst. I knew that he’d try to do something to stop Blake building a new community center, but breeding and releasing termites to reduce the value of the land? Diabolical.”
“Lily always stood up for Archie back when she was with Vlad. Says he was misunderstood.” She paused. “That was only after she read book one, mind you, where Archie gets amnesia and becomes a good person for a while.”
I nodded. “I couldn’t believe it when his evil twin brother, Donny, stole his girlfriend at the start. And then converted the ranch house into an impromptu adult film studio, complete with cheesy Western-themed sets. I can’t wait to see how Marge Statten makes Donny the hero of the next book.”
“You got your ticket for her event yet, by the way? It’s not for another month but it’s selling up fast.”
“Not sure it’s for me,” I replied. “But I’ll definitely read the novel.”
Lily had left behind a copy of the first Lavender Farms book in her room when she’d left. I’d never read a romance novel before, but when I saw that book, I couldn’t help myself. As I read it, I felt for a moment like Lily was there with me, reading over my shoulder. And when I finished the first one, as hyperbolic as it was, it left me feeling so emotionally raw that I’d been desperate to start the next.
As I read, watching the love developed between the characters, and how they overcame their insanely unbelievable problems, I felt a hole being filled in me that I didn’t even know existed.
“Want me to send a text when book three is out?”
“Please.” I took another sip.
“You should really get into vampire romance, though,” said Yolande. “It’s way hotter, and I have a ton of new paranormal books on order right now.”
“I’ll stick with Lavender Farms for now,” I said, suppressing a smile. “One genre at a time.”
“Your loss, dude.”
“So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “heard from Lily lately?”
Yolande shifted uncomfortably. “Oh yeah, I have. We keep in touch. You know, she’s the store owner.”
My heart clenched. “That’s . . . good. How is she? I mean, is she. . . ?”
“Happy,” Yolande said, her tone softening. “She seems really happy, Ethan.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Good. That’s . . . that’s good.”
Weirdly, it was good. I wanted her to be happy. I just wished I could get there, too.