Chapter Seven
Seven
I could listen to every iteration of Arden’s engagement recap on repeat for the next sixty years, but it took seventeen minutes for Phoebe to start with the please-for-the-love-of-god looks.
“You were so right about the green dress,” Arden gushed, starry-eyed and glowing in her drab pharmacist uniform, her smile nearly as sparkling as the diamond on her finger.
She’d burst into the apartment minutes after Noah popped the question last night—we hugged and cried for a solid five minutes before she went back home to celebrate privately.
I’d been so thrilled for her, my own news fell to the wayside.
Now, though, our packed bags were hidden behind bedroom doors and I was crawling out of my skin with every passing second.
I had to tell Arden. I had no idea how.
“You look amazing in the pictures,” I said. Phoebe shot me another pointed look and my fingernails dug further into my palms.
Arden let out a dreamy sigh. “It was perfect. Noah’s original plan was to do it at the botanical garden and invite our friends and family, which is a sweet thought, but he said you told him if I got engaged in front of my mother, I’d kill myself. You’re my hero.”
I shot a finger gun at her. “I got you.”
“Have you given any thoughts to your honeymoon?” Phoebe interjected with a placid smile. I stiffened.
“Well, you know Noah hates sand.”
“I’ve been seeing a lot of honeymoon road trips,” Phoebe went on, her gaze snapping to me, challenging me to take this opening.
“Ooh, yeah I’ve seen that! It’s big with travel influencers right now,” Arden said. She held out her hand, gazing at her ring, and a goofy smile bloomed. “I don’t know. I think we’re gonna focus on being engaged for a bit. It’s so fun.”
Taking advantage of Arden’s distraction, Phoebe caught my eye and mouthed, Coward.
Considering my inability to say no to a cross-country road trip with a complete stranger, I was in no position to argue.
I could still call it off. That thought was the only thing keeping me upright; three things disappeared, replaced by this thought, a pathetic possibility revolving around my brain since the moment Dex and I exchanged numbers.
I can call it off, as I stuffed random things into bags.
I kept my phone within view at all times, ready to fire off a text that would ease the anxiety roaring in my gut.
A road trip with Benji Dexter.
I’d sat dumbstruck in the passenger seat as Phoebe breathlessly explained Dex’s fear of flying and his excellent driving record.
The word no played on a constant loop in my head, even as my mouth asked pointless questions like What about work?
and Shouldn’t someone tell Catalina so we don’t just barge into her life unannounced?
Dex’s noncommittal answers led me to believe he had no way to contact Catalina (which made sense, considering his usage of the postal service rather than, like, an email).
Phoebe didn’t have all the answers, but she did have a locked and loaded manipulation tactic: I have Dad’s Polaroid camera, she’d told me.
I could take pictures, Vi. Just like he used to on his trips.
I warmed to the idea at once, remembering my sister discovering that clunky old camera in the back of Dad’s closet and taking photos of everything and how Dad had covered the fridge with them.
They’d shared that curiosity for the world around them, the urge to document and return to the memories.
There was a bookshelf in the living room dedicated to photo albums from his touring days, and another to the photo albums of Phoebe and me growing up; every single one lived in a storage unit now.
I could call this off.
But I wouldn’t.
“Vi!” Arden’s voice jolted me out of my head, her concern palpable before I even met her eyes. “Is everything okay?” she asked, studying me closely. “Where were you just now?”
Phoebe jumped to her feet. “I’m gonna do homework,” she said, veering for her bedroom. Arden furrowed her brow, looking between us. “Or something. Later!”
I watched the traitor disappear into her room, gnawing my lip. Arden shifted her gaze to me, sharper, more suspicious.
“What was that?”
“She’s fourteen. I don’t know.”
“Violet. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Am I talking about the engagement too much?” she asked, wincing. “Oh god. I am, aren’t I? You’re already picturing me as Bridezilla and you want to rip my face off.”
“Arden, no. I want to hear about the engagement. We’ve barely scratched the surface.” I took a breath, wiping my palms on my sweatpants. “Sorry. I’m not trying to be weird. I just… I have to talk to you about something.”
Her hand flew to her chest. “You’re sick.”
“What? Obviously not.”
“Oh, thank god. Sorry. My mind goes to the worst-case scenario when someone says they have to talk to me.” Her eyes widened. “Noah. Phoebe.”
“Arden.”
“Sorry. I’ll stop guessing.”
The catastrophic guesses softened the blow, so I took a breath and forced the words out.
“Phoebe and I are going on a trip.”
She pushed a curl out of her face, her ring glinting in the sunlight. “Since when?”
“Yesterday.”
“Does this have to do with where she was?” Her expression went grim. “I got so distracted, I never asked after you told us she was okay. Where was she?”
“She went to Sequest,” I said quietly. Arden’s eyes sharpened, as if she read ahead in my face to see exactly what the future held. “She, uh, found Catalina.”
Her jaw dropped. “What?”
“She basically stalked her way to the information. I don’t know.” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “Phoebe went to Sequest to convince Dex to give Catalina the letter and, somehow, it snowballed into this.”
“This?”
I winced at the edge in her tone. “The road trip.”
“Trip where?” she demanded.
“Oregon,” I told her. She blinked.
“Oregon.” Another blink. “To… what? Give Catalina the letter?”
“Yeah.” I hesitated. “With Dex.”
Arden fell back in her chair with a humorless laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re going across the country with the robot who shoots lasers out of his eyes? That’s what you’re telling me right now?”
“He’s not that bad,” I muttered. “We read his mail. Of course he was mad.”
“Violet.” She widened her eyes at me. “What are you doing?”
Something, my mind whispered. Finally, something.
“I know it doesn’t make sense to you,” I said, and she let out another short laugh.
“Yeah, no shit it doesn’t make sense to me. What the fuck, Violet?”
It had been so long since she’d spoken to me like this, like I wasn’t a fragile, broken thing. That same relief sparked by Dex’s unabashed honesty coursed through my veins, shouting that as strange and awful as this felt, it was the right decision.
“Phoebe needs this,” I said. She opened her mouth to argue—no doubt another plea to stop giving in to my sister on the tip of her tongue. I cut her off before she could. “I think I need this, too. A change of scenery. Something else. Just… something. You know?”
“No! I don’t know!” She scrambled to her feet and paced the length of the couch for a solid ten seconds.
“I’ve been trying to be cool. I really have.
I don’t sneak fresh produce in your fridge or slip twenty dollars in your purse.
I don’t force you to go out on weekends.
You are stubborn and proud and that’s fine because you let me help even when you’re not letting me step in.
But a road trip with a stranger is going too far, Violet. This is me officially intervening.”
“Intervening in what?”
She waved her hand wildly at me. “This! You! This whole situation!”
“It’s not about you,” I said. “You don’t get a say.”
“Like hell I don’t. This isn’t happening.” She folded her arms over her chest, drenched in conviction. “It’s just not.”
“It is happening,” I replied softly. “We’re packed. We leave tomorrow.”
A thud came from Phoebe’s door, followed by a soft curse.
The absurdity of the situation could’ve set me off—my best friend standing before me, dumbstruck, while my sister eavesdropped from the next room, and somewhere across the city, a stranger packed his bags to escort us across the country.
My dad would’ve been in hysterics, as in actual knee-slapping and tears.
Arden sank down on the couch. “No,” she whispered. “No, but… No. You can’t just leave, Violet. What is going on?”
I scooted closer to her, wrapping my fingers around her trembling hands.
“I love you. I am so happy for you. No one in the world deserves happiness and love more than you,” I told her earnestly.
She looked at me, eyes glassy. “As happy as I am for you, it’s also this huge neon sign of how far behind I am.
A year ago, Shawn and I were looking at rings and now… ”
“Your dad died,” she said, folding her hands over mine, holding on tightly. “You’re grieving. That’s not falling behind.”
“I’m stuck, Arden.” My eyes stung. “I’m so terrified of what happens next, I stopped living. So maybe this trip is a terrible idea and I’ll regret it two seconds in, but at least it’s something.”
She let out a tortured groan. “I hate this. I hate this so much. I know growth is supposed to be scary, but I don’t think they meant traveling across the country with a potential serial killer scary.”
“He’s not a serial killer,” I said, comforted by both Mary’s assurance and the frankly bizarre phone call I’d received from a friend of Dex’s named Gavin who proceeded to vet me, as if I was the threat.
Dex had people who were as worried about his decision as Arden was about mine: It didn’t carry enough weight for unconditional trust, but enough to move forward. “He’s just a guy.”
“No one,” she said gravely, “is just a guy.”
“I know you hate this,” I said, sounding marginally more confident than I felt. Which was not at all. “But I need you to be on my side.”
“I am on your side. Even when you’re batshit crazy. Which is right now, by the way. You’re being batshit crazy.”
“I’m aware.”