Chapter 15
Chapter fifteen
MAGNOLIA
On the third morning, I woke up perkier than I had before, my body resisting any more sleep. I didn’t quite feel strong, but I felt enough like myself to sit up on my elbows.
I was glad to be awake and free from the dreams that had whisked me back into the past. Dreams, or memories, of me and Lee in this room together. The first time, the millionth time, the last time…
Lee was snoring at the foot of my bed, sleeping upright with his back against the wall. Pickle was curled in a ball on his lap, twitching with a case of her own happy dreams. They probably involved Lee, too.
I couldn't look away from his face. Even asleep, he had that same familiar look, the one that hadn't changed since he was eighteen, save for a few more lines etched in from time and life.
His chest rose and fell in a slow, steady rhythm, and a warmth started to spread in my chest as I watched him, a familiar pull in my stomach.
No. I shook my head, trying to shake off the feeling. This was not happening—not in my bed, not like this.
I snapped myself back to reality and kicked his leg, my foot connecting harder than I’d planned. His eyes flew open, a confused grunt escaping him as he jerked awake. “Lee, there’s another bedroom and a whole couch. Get out of my room.”
Pickle flew off his lap with her fur standing up straight on her back, and she pounced around my bedroom floor in her sideways fighting stance.
“Hush now, Pickle,” Lee said, stretching his arms out in front of him. She happily obeyed by plopping down and throwing a straight leg into the air, licking her rear end.
Lee turned his attention to me. “If I slept in the other room, I would have missed an awfully nice fever dream of yours, which, if I understood the dialogue correctly, you and I were getting along quite well again.”
I let out a yelp and buried my head into my pillow.
“I can’t believe you still talk in your sleep. It’s so charming.”
After a while, I dragged myself out of bed and into the kitchen.
Sunlight streamed through the open windows, mingling with the faint smell of paint and bleach hanging in the air.
Lee was perched at the kitchen table, cradling a cup of coffee.
Next to him, a steaming mug of tea waited patiently.
I shot him a glance, my curiosity piqued.
“Did you paint? What happened here?” I asked, taking in the transformation. My once-beige walls were now gleaming white, and the musty cigar-smoke smell had vanished. It looked and smelled amazing.
“Was I in a coma? How long was I out?” My head spun from dehydration, the lingering paint fumes, and sheer bewilderment. I slid into the seat next to Lee, making sure to keep my distance.
“Three days, on and off. I had some free time, so I touched some things up and wiped some things down.” He was seriously undermining his hard work. The more I looked around, the more I noticed things he had patched up and deep-cleaned.
“You didn’t have to do any of this,” I mumbled quietly, staring down into my mug.
He scooted his chair closer to mine and put his hands on either side of my face so fast my head started spinning. “You’re right. I didn’t. But I wanted to, so I did.”
Our faces were practically touching, but I kept my eyes on my lap.
“I’m dating your brother, Lee. We can’t be playing house like this,” I finally said, the sound coming out muffled since he was still squishing my cheeks.
He let out a long sigh and sat back in his chair with a soft smile. “If all you can offer me is your friendship, then I will gladly take it. But that doesn’t mean I won’t spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy, even if you think you don’t deserve it.”
Lee busied himself wiping down all the surfaces with Lysol and collecting a mountain of used tissues before standing in the doorway of the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe and giving me a look that was full of tenderness and quiet longing.
“I’m going to head downstairs for a bit to check on things. Will you text me if you need anything?” he finally asked after watching me for a few minutes.
“Sure,” I started, feeling myself overheating from the fever… or from the nerves. “I’m just not sure what to say, Lee…”
He laughed, pushing himself off the doorframe. “Let’s wait until you’re feeling better, then we’ll come up with some creative way for you to thank me.”
I rolled my eyes, but my stomach turned around in a million circles. Lee Wilder was flirting with me—again—and my body, sick as a dog, was responding to the call like an old friend. Traitor.
“Oh! There’s one more thing. Hang on.” He dashed toward the living room, rifling through some bags before rushing back down the hallway. He set an envelope down in front of me.
“Is this the paperwork for the bar sale?” I asked, my fingers nervously tugging at the tab. “I haven’t really had a chance to think…” I couldn’t finish my sentence, struck silent by the awe I felt. Inside the envelope was something I hadn’t seen in years—actual printed photos.
“I found a disposable camera in a shoebox in your room,” he said, hovering over my shoulder as I began flipping through the pictures. “Don’t worry, I didn’t read your diary.”
I spun around to face him, a playful, nostalgic grin spreading across both our faces. “This is incredible—look at these! We were so young. This one’s from your gig at Lizzie’s.” I handed him a photo, and he examined it closely. It wasn’t just his first gig; it was our first night together.
“Wow,” he murmured, studying the next few pictures I showed him. “Look at us. We were so happy back then.”
“Young and clueless, more like it,” I teased, meeting his eyes again.
A shadow crossed his face, and the mood shifted. “I should get going. I’m glad you’re starting to feel better.” He dropped his stack of photos on the table where they fanned out like a rainbow of memories and time gone by and shut the door heavily behind him.
I was still sorting through the photos when Sutton came crashing through the door with a key lime pie and two forks. “Ya hungry? Feeling better? Ready to tell me every single detail concerning Lee Wilder locking himself up here for three days and barely letting anyone else in to see you?”
“He was busy, probably didn’t want anyone to intervene.” I motioned to the bright white walls and polished chrome appliances.
“Holy shit.” She sank down next to me, snapped the top off the pie, and dug in. “So, he’s staying, right? Please tell me you begged him to stay. I have some work I need done in my condo. Wait, what are these?” She picked up the pile of pictures, her eyes glistening at the memories.
“He had those printed during one of his many trips to the pharmacy. Can you believe it? And we actually didn’t really get a chance to talk about him staying much. He did, however, tell me that he would spend the rest of his life trying to make me happy. In a friendly capacity, of course.”
“A friendly capacity… right. That sounds legit. Speaking of the Wilder clan, have you talked to your boyfriend?”
My eyes flew wide open, and I darted into my room to check my phone. He still hadn’t called or texted to check on me. I shot him a quick text.
MAGNOLIA: Feeling much better. Heard you weren’t feeling so hot yourself. How’s the trial?
Little conversation dots popped up, then disappeared. “He’s probably busy,” I shrugged, putting the phone down and spooning up a tiny bite of pie.
“Charlie tried to get the scoop from Lee, but it didn’t work. You know who does have the intel, though? Ryan.”
The way she said his name piqued my interest. I swallowed a cool, tangy bite, but everything still felt like shards of glass going down my throat. “Um, so, are you talking to Ryan? And what exactly did he say?”
She did a little shimmy in her seat. “We’re not like talking-talking, but when I put him in the Uber after brunch last weekend, he asked for my number so he could refund me the ride bill, and we’ve been texting here and there ever since. I was on bar duty last night, and he stopped by.”
“Thank you for doing that, by the way. So, what did he say?” I leaned my head on my hands, my body fighting the urge to crawl back into bed.
“Well, for starters, he said that there was quite the kerfuffle with Dane and Lee over Lee staying and buying into the bar. I guess Vance got involved, but Eunice actually stepped in and stood up for you, saying that this bar was your home and if Lee wanted to stay and help you out, no one was going to stop him.”
The notion of Eunice Wilder standing up to Vance and Dane shocked me. Eunice was a strong woman, but usually, when Vance wanted something done his way, she let him have it gracefully. She called it a Southern woman’s charm. I let out a dramatic gasp, then sputtered into a coughing fit.
“Ew, you sound gross. Charlie and I were shocked, too. Anyway, Eunice had Dane fax her the agreement, and she’s going to call you so you can sign your end of it.
I guess she’s a notary or something, so she can do some stuff for Vance if there’s not a paralegal or an assistant at his beck and call at all hours. ”
I tried a bit more of the pie but stuck mostly to my tea, listening to Sutton catch me up on three days’ worth of gossip, which in our world was akin to a century.
We moved into the living room, and Sutton covered me with a blanket and bounced into my room to get my box of tissues. She came running out with Pickle on her heels, hissing wildly.
“This damned cat. Isn’t it like a hundred years old now? Shouldn’t she be dead?”
Pickle and I both glared at her.
She sank down on the couch next to me and stuck her feet under the quilt. “So, are you going to do it? Are you going to let Lee buy into the bar?”
I hadn’t had much time to process it, but spending three days in close quarters with him, having him care for me—it was a lot for my heart to handle. Especially since I couldn’t even get a text back from my boyfriend.
“Well, it would mean Lee and I would be up each other’s asses more than I’m comfortable with. I really need to think it through some more. And I should probably talk to Dane about it.”
“I thought you two were just friends. What would it matter?” Sutton reached for the remote and started flipping through the channels. “He does look awfully good, though. Those Wilder boys sure do age well. Are you catching feelings?”
“We are just friends. And that’s all we’re going to be from here on out. So no, no feelings have been caught here.”
Catching feelings? Caught them eighteen years ago, and they never went away, apparently. What was the difference?
I let out a sigh that turned into a wheeze.
“It was awfully nice of him to take care of me, though. And it’s pretty obvious he’s quite handy with tools and a bucket of paint.
” I finally noticed that my ceiling fan was working for the first time since I was in high school and the baseboards had a fresh coat of paint as well.
Sutton checked her phone and groaned. “Shit, I have to go. I’m sending Charlie over to cover the bar, though.
Jordan and Doyle have me catering—solo, I might add—for a huge fundraiser tonight at their shop.
Charlie dropped off some pieces to show, and Lee and Ryan are going to play. I wish you could make it.”
For some reason, that set me off real good.
“Why is everyone more successful than me? Charlie’s drowning in custom orders.
Dane’s buried so deep in that trial in Atlanta, he’s probably forgotten what daylight looks like.
Lee and Ryan? Already snagged a damn Grammy.
Jordan and Doyle are running the most profitable business in Savannah.
And you? You’re over here freelancing appetizers for their fancy fundraising parties.
Like, ‘Would you like a canapé with a side of crushing existential dread?’ Ugh. ”
I was fully committed to the whining now, and honestly, I didn’t care. I felt like I was getting left behind. Again. And on top of it all, I wasn’t feeling great. Everyone’s allowed a temper tantrum when they were under the weather, right?
Sutton looked at me with soft, sad eyes. “We are not more successful than you, Magnolia. We’re just all moving forward instead of hanging on to the past. Every single one of us has faced some sort of hurdle, and we’ve overcome it. Maybe you should try it?”
“Ouch.”
“I know, that was mean. I’m sorry. I love you, but someone had to say it.
Let Lee invest in the bar and let go of whatever weird thing you’re holding on to.
He wants to do it—for reasons that are probably beyond human comprehension—and you need him to do it for reasons that everyone understands, and those reasons are called ‘foreclosure’ and ‘bankruptcy.’ So either figure it out on your own, or cut the string that’s been tying you two together since the dawn of time and see if you can survive as business partners. ”
“And what if it doesn’t work?”
She kissed the top of my head and shot me a wide-eyed smile. “Then, we’ll find you a new dream.”