Chapter 26
Lily
Lily: This is not a date.
Kyle: Don't wear red lipstick.
I wouldn't want my whole face to be marked when we kiss.
Lily: I'm starting to regret having accepted.
I stood in front of my closet for what felt like an eternity, holding up different outfits and immediately dismissing them. Too formal. Too casual. Too much cleavage. Not enough personality. The pile of rejected clothes on my bed grew larger with each passing minute.
This was ridiculous. I was a twenty-eight-year-old woman trapped in an eighteen-year-old body, going on a not-date with my ex-boyfriend, whom I was definitely not trying to impress.
So why did I care what I wore? Why did my heart race at the thought of seeing him tonight? Why did I keep checking the clock, counting down the minutes until seven?
I told myself it was just nerves. Just the stress of everything I was dealing with recently. It had nothing to do with the way Kyle had looked at me in the break room, like I was still his everything. Nothing to do with how his hands had felt on my waist, warm and solid and right.
Nothing at all.
Finally, I grabbed a simple yellow sundress from the back of my closet. It was cheerful without trying too hard, comfortable but still pretty. Safe. Normal. The kind of thing teenage Lily would have worn without overthinking it for forty-five minutes.
But as I slipped it over my head, I couldn't help but remember that Kyle had once told me yellow was his favorite color on me.
That he'd said it made my skin glow and brought out the gold in my hair.
And I hated that I'd remembered that, hated that some part of me had chosen this dress specifically because I wanted to see that look in his eyes again.
A soft knock on my door interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I called, checking my reflection one last time.
My father poked his head through the door; his expression was amused. I remember how he always used to tell me that boys were a waste of time, while I told him that if I could build something as beautiful as what he and Mom had, then it was worth wasting time like that. If only I'd known better.
"Kyle's here,” he made a slight pause to look at me. “You look beautiful, sweetheart."
"Thanks, Dad." I turned to face him, and something twisted in my chest. In my real present, the 2025 version of our lives, my dad and I were closer than ever. After losing Mom and Leo, we’d become each other’s support system.
We talked every day, shared dumb jokes, and had the kind of bond from surviving hard things together.
But here, now, things felt different. More formal. There was a distance between us that I'd forgotten existed, the natural boundary between a teenager and her parent. I was still his little girl in his eyes, not the adult woman who'd helped him through his darkest moments.
"Dad?" I said suddenly, crossing the room to wrap my arms around him, then I kissed him on his cheek.
"What's this for?" he asked, but his arms came around me automatically.
"I love you," and I'm sorry for what's coming. I'm sorry I couldn't save our family the first time. I'm sorry you're going to lose so much. I love you more than you'll ever know.
He pulled back to look at me, his eyebrows raised in surprise. "I love you, too, Lily-pad. Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm fine," I assured him. "I just want to make sure you know."
He studied my face for a moment longer, then smiled. "Well, I'm not complaining, but you should probably head downstairs before your mother starts grilling that poor boy about his intentions."
I laughed, following him down the hallway. As we reached the living room, I could hear the familiar sounds of a video game in progress and some laughs from the boys.
"No way! That's totally cheating!" Leo was saying as I rounded the corner.
Kyle was sitting on the couch next to my brother, controller in hand, completely absorbed in whatever game they were playing. My mother sat in an armchair next to them, watching the boys with obvious amusement.
"I'm ready, let's go," I announced.
Kyle looked up when he heard my voice, and his smile changed.
It went from the mocking grin he'd worn while beating my brother to a softer one that took my breath away and made my skin feel warm.
His gaze traveled over my face, down to my yellow dress, and back to me, lingering just long enough to make me aware of every inch of my body.
"Let us finish this game," Leo protested without taking his eyes off the screen. "Don't take my playing partner away from me. He actually knows how to play, unlike some people." He shot me a pointed look.
"I won't take that as an offense," I replied, crossing my arms with mock indignation.
"Good, because it wasn't meant as one," Leo grinned, returning to his game.
As they finished their round, my mother stood up and moved toward Kyle. "Hey, you should come have dinner on Sunday," she said warmly. "We miss you around here."
Kyle's face lit up with a smile. "I miss coming too. Hopefully, Lily will stop prohibiting me from visiting."
Everyone laughed, and I felt my cheeks warm.
"I don't prohibit anything," I protested, but I was smiling, too, because the lie was so obvious that even I didn't believe it.
"Come on," I said, grabbing Kyle's arm and pulling him toward the door. "Before you all gang up on me completely."
"See you Sunday!" my mother called after us.
Outside, Kyle led me to his father's old pickup truck, and I couldn't help but laugh.
"How does it feel to be dependent on your parents again for money after being a rich, successful man in your late twenties?" I teased, climbing into the passenger seat.
He laughed, starting the engine. "How does it feel to have to ask for permission to go out again?"
"Weird," I admitted. "I feel like a teenager again, but I'm not. It's like the opposite of when I was this age. I felt like an adult even though I was aware that I was a teenager. And this date isn't helping my confusion either."
"Remember, it's not a date," he said, pulling out of the driveway. "I just want you to free your head. You have a lot going on, and resting and clearing your mind is important too."
And although I didn't want to admit it, he was right.
Lately, everything in my life revolved around making sure everyone around me was okay—at school, at home, even that was my job at the hospital.
I didn't feel overwhelmed, but I knew that if I continued at this pace, it wouldn't be long before I collapsed.
"So you were playing with my brother," I changed the subject. "Everything is okay between you two again?"
"It seems so. I entered the house and went straight to him to ask if everything was okay, and he told me that Jeremy had spoken to him and that it seemed to be a misunderstanding. So I guess everything's calmer now."
"Well, because I don't want your mistakes to interfere with my progress. I’m capable of eliminating any threat that could affect my brother, even if it's you."
"I know, but there will be no more threats, I promise."
"Good." I looked through the window. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise."
I rolled my eyes at his response, but I couldn't quite suppress my smile. For not being a date, everything seemed too well calculated, too perfectly planned.
Twenty minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot of a small restaurant overlooking the beach.
The moment I saw it, my breath caught.
"I remember this," I said softly, staring at the weathered wooden sign. "We went on a date here ten years ago."
"I know," he said quietly. "That's why we're here. I want you to be able to remember that you had good times, too."
Sometimes we are so focused on remembering the bad things that we don't realize that in every storm, there is always a moment of calm. I've spent these last ten years so focused on all the bad things that happened when I was 18 that I almost don't remember there were moments like these, too.
The memories came flooding back. Our first real date, how nervous we'd both been, how Kyle had spilled marinara sauce on his shirt, and I'd laughed so hard I'd snorted.
How we'd walked on the beach afterward, talking about everything and nothing.
How he'd kissed me under the pier, sweet and tentative and perfect.
Before everything went wrong. Before the party, before the video, before the trial. When we were just two kids in love, believing the future was ours to write.
"I still have your playlist," he said suddenly. "The one you made me junior year with all those indie bands you were obsessed with. I listened to it on repeat in Sydney when I was homesick."
I laughed. "I can't eat strawberry ice cream anymore without thinking of you. It was your favorite, and now every time I see it, I remember those summer nights we'd get it from that place by the pier."
"I haven't eaten it again either; I found out they closed a few years ago, and now that we're in the past, I'm afraid I won't like it as much as before. Looks like some things are better left as memories."
"Not all memories," I said, looking at him. "Some of them are worth recreating."
The place was just as I remembered, bohemian style with mismatched wooden tables, string lights draped between palm trees, and an open space that flowed seamlessly onto the beach.
Colorful tapestries hung from posts, fluttering in the ocean breeze, and the sound of waves mixed with the soft music from the DJ player in the corner.
I'd never come back here after what happened, like all the places that reminded me of Kyle.
But being here now felt different. Like maybe some places weren't ruined forever. Like maybe I could reclaim the spaces that hurt me and make new memories to overlay the old ones.
We took a table at the very edge of the restaurant, right where the wooden deck met the sand, and I was grateful for choosing this dress and sandals.