Chapter Eight
Eight
I didn’t bother setting an alarm. Six-thirty on the dot, Phoebe pounded on my bedroom door, shouting that she’d made coffee and would start taking bags downstairs. I stared at my ceiling in the dark, stomach churning.
What the hell am I doing?
I dragged myself out of bed, the thought following me around the apartment like a ghost. I took a scorching shower, half expecting the question to show up written in steam on the mirror.
Skin red and raw, auburn hair stuck to my face, I studied my reflection, waiting for something wrong to jump out.
A new tattoo or piercing, horns, anything that might indicate this was a dream.
For months I’d expected to wake up from a nightmare. I wouldn’t hold my breath this time.
Phoebe pranced around the living room dressed in black cutoffs, fishnets, and an oversized Ethel Cain tee. Her happiness made it seem even more like a dream, a sweeter one I wasn’t so keen to wake up from.
Noah and Arden helped take our bags downstairs, and the four of us stood on the sidewalk under the pink sunrise. A chill perfumed the air, thick and sweet.
“I feel like we’re sending you off to college,” Noah said, bleary-eyed in an old hoodie and plaid pajama bottoms. Beside him, Arden stood in a sundress and slippers, eyes red.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“This is emotional!” Arden replied defensively. “You guys are setting forth! Taking steps forward! A new adventure!”
I glanced at Phoebe, wondering if she understood the subliminal message there: Your dad would love this.
Dad lived for adventure, having spent his twenties working the lights for various punk bands, traveling the world.
It’s how he met our mother, a singer terrified of commitment who couldn’t stay away from the sweet roadie.
He fell hard. Waited for her every time she left him high and dry.
Both pregnancies were accidental, but the second one opened her eyes to how much she didn’t want this, and after Phoebe was born, she left permanently, and Dad got a stable job working the lights at a venue in Providence.
I used to ask if he missed adventures. This is an adventure, he’d reply as he gestured to our backyard where Phoebe chased fireflies. It was so corny, but he meant it. He was just as taken with fatherhood as he’d been by foreign countries.
There were only so many ways to express how much you miss someone.
I cried into my pillow, sold my childhood home, avoided certain roads; suddenly, this trip felt less like running away and more like a homage.
He spent years driving down these roads, seeing these sights.
We’d stumbled into the most remarkably appropriate way to celebrate Dad and, hopefully, bring ourselves back to life a little bit.
Phoebe was already buzzing like a live wire. I’d get there.
“So, this is happening,” Noah said, looking between Arden and me. “We are letting this happen?”
She nodded curtly. “We are.”
“Because…?”
“Stop being such a worrywart.” She looped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in. “Vi has everything under control. Right?”
“Always.”
Phoebe’s sharp intake of breath snapped us all to attention as Dex’s car swung around the corner and cruised toward us, pulling into the fire lane.
“You owe me ten bucks,” Phoebe said, casting Noah a smug grin. He rolled his eyes and reached into his hoodie pocket, withdrawing several bills.
“Seriously?” I said. Arden whacked his arm.
“Don’t make bets with teenagers.”
Phoebe pocketed the money and turned her attention to Dex’s car. He stepped out, donned in his standard uniform of a crisp button-up and snug trousers, as well as a pair of black Ray-Bans. My small spark of excitement was snuffed out by an overwhelming burst of anxiety.
“Morning,” I said, lifting my hand in a timid wave. Dex rounded the front of his car, stopping short when Phoebe bolted toward him.
“You made it!”
His brow furrowed. “Was that in question?”
“Kind of.”
Impassive as ever, Dex turned to me, gesturing to the pile at my feet. “Is that everything?”
“That’s everything.”
With a stiff nod, he effortlessly plucked up several bags at once. For as pristine as his outfit was, everything else remained contrastingly unkempt; thick hair fisted out of his unshaven face, eyes laden with dark circles. Clearly, he got about as much sleep last night as I did.
What the hell are we doing?
Dex didn’t seem conflicted, despite the obvious sleep deprivation.
There was no fidgeting, darting eyes, or wringing of hands.
He opened the trunk of his car—out rather than up, and Phoebe made him demonstrate twice before that muscle in his jaw ticked—and laid the bags out neatly.
His shirt strained against his shoulders as he leaned in to adjust the bags, a single curl falling over his forehead like he was a goddamn Austen hero.
“You’re staring,” Arden hissed in my ear.
I snapped around. “Hmm?”
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”
“I wasn’t staring.”
“Nope. No.”
“I was appreciating the fit of his shirt. Kudos to his tailor, or whatever.”
She grabbed my arm and dragged me several paces away from the group.
“You haven’t looked at anyone since Shawn.
Every time Noah and I try to set you up, you brush it off.
‘I’m too busy. Work is a nightmare. Phoebe.
’ And that’s fine! Everyone needs time to move on after a breakup,” she said, keeping her voice low.
I crossed my arms, unwilling to entertain whatever ridiculous notion she was about to throw down.
“But out of everyone on the planet who deserves your attention, that guy is not related to them, or friends with them, or acquainted in any way shape or form with them.”
“Arden.”
She pointed right in my face. “Don’t use that tone with me. I’m being serious.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“You were staring!”
“He’s nice to look at when his mouth is shut.”
She huffed, definitely fending off a smile. “Just be careful,” she murmured, eyes shining.
I dropped the combative stance. Her misplaced concern had everything to do with us embarking on this strange adventure without her. For so long, I’d held her like a crutch, unable to stand on my own. I stepped forward and wrapped her in my arms.
“You guys are everything to me. How am I supposed to let you go?” Arden murmured.
“Don’t bother. We’ll talk every night.”
She choked on a laugh, burying her face in my hair. “God. I’m gonna miss you. I had myself convinced this wouldn’t happen.”
“Me, too.” I squeezed her tighter, eyes burning as I breathed in her Tom Ford perfume. If I hugged her hard enough, it would transfer to me, and I could hold on to her a little while longer. “Don’t let your mom take you wedding dress shopping until I get back.”
“No way. I need my maid of honor’s stamp of approval.”
I placed a hand over my heart and Arden shot me a watery smile, leaning in to rest her head on my shoulder. “We’ll be okay,” I said. “I’m embracing optimism again.”
“Well, duh. You wouldn’t be doing any of this if you weren’t a dirty optimist.” Her smile tipped into genuine territory. “I’m proud of you.”
I rolled my eyes and gently shoved her, as if I wasn’t genuinely touched or on the verge of a breakdown.
She’d said those words to me so many times over the last year, but this felt like the first time I could feel them.
I’d dipped my toe in water expecting a shock of cold and found something damn close to warmth.
It only took a potentially catastrophic choice, but at least it was mine, and at least I had my sister on my side.
For the first time in a long time, I was proud of myself too.
Noah walked over and slung an arm around my shoulders, drawing me in. “You sure about this?” he asked. “I could fake a medical emergency if you want to bail.”
I snorted. “I’m good. This is something I have to do.”
He gave me a reassuring little squeeze. “The offer stands.”
“In general, or…?”
“Yeah. Six years from now, I’ll drop to the floor and fake appendicitis if you ask me to.”
Couldn’t have picked a better one for Arden.
Dex shut the trunk and leaned against it, arms crossed, waiting out the rest of the goodbyes. Phoebe let Arden squeeze her hard, rolling her eyes as Arden whispered something in her ear, and then offered Noah a fist bump.
“Dex. If that is your real name,” Arden said. Dex turned to her, eyebrows raised. “If anything happens to either of them. If they experience any sort of physical or mental harm. If they come home worse off in any way, shape, or form. I will murder you.”
Said with a smile. I expected nothing less.
“Fair enough,” Dex said and made his way around the car to the driver’s side. Phoebe darted after him, closing herself in the back seat without a second glance in our direction.
“I can’t tell if he’s joking or if he agrees that’s a fair punishment,” Noah mused. Arden glanced at me, smiling.
“Either way, brownie points.”
I gave them each another hug, holding my breath, bracing for that moment I’d startle awake in bed and it would be ten months ago and all of this would have been a terrible dream.
The sidewalk remained steady underfoot. Fluffy white clouds crawled across the blue overhead.
A breeze swept through and my hair flew directly into my eyeball.
Not a dream.
I scraped my hair out of my face and moved toward Dex’s car. Phoebe wound down the window, a huge grin taking over her face.
“Vi, come on,” she said, gesturing wildly for me to get in the car. “I made a playlist!”
I got in.
“Ready?” Dex asked, casting me a quick glance. I felt a lot of things in this car, and ready wasn’t one of them, but I forced myself to nod. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, silently repeating the question to Phoebe, and she saluted.
I can call it off, I thought.
Phoebe sent me a bright smile from the back seat. I kept my mouth shut.