Chapter 20
Liz woke up to the sound of a door closing down the hall. She heard Cam shift his body, twisting closer to her side. He slipped his arm around her waist. His fingers traced her hip bone. She felt heat under the comforter. He was definitely awake.
“Morning,” Liz whispered, her eyes still closed.
“Morning yourself,” Cam said, kissing her neck. He pushed his body closer, immersing Liz in his warmth. She loved mornings like this, pressed like pieces of a puzzle, hitting the snooze button, ignoring the sun.
How long could they manage to stay tucked in their room this Sunday morning? They’d planned on taking the three p.m. ferry to Bay Shore. She only needed ten or so minutes to throw her things back in her bag. Take a quick shower. Maybe they could get away with a few hours, hidden from everything, just the two of them. They could fix Cam’s phone screen back in the city. Liz could call Mac, apologize for interfering with his love life, smooth it all over when they got home.
For now, Cam and Liz could soak in each other’s warmth. They could ignore the world together.
“Can we stay like this forever?” he asked, reading her mind and making her melt.
“I wouldn’t mind moving into the Serendipity House for good. Permanent renters.”
“Full-time Ocean Beach residents.” Cam smiled. The sun shone through the window and landed right on his pillow, shining against his face like a highlighter.
Liz felt her stomach pang with guilt. She hated lying to him. She hated that she wasn’t even sure why she had decided lying to him was the best path forward. There was the fear that he might not support her dreams. The shame that she wanted to run abroad as soon as a ring had been placed on her left finger.
Yet Cam had spent a decade proving that he was someone trustworthy, who could catch her upon a fall.
He had spent the past year picking up her pieces.
The first year without her mom had been painful in the missing. The first Memorial Day barbecue missing her famous coleslaw side. The first birthday, missing her signature three cards (one funny, one punny, one sweet). The first dozen times Liz went to call or text her mom and remembered that there was no one waiting on the other side. The advice, the stories, the dreams—all with no one to tell them to. She wished she’d had more time, more opportunities to imprint her mother’s brain into her own being, so she wouldn’t have to live one more day wondering what her mom might do or say.
The silver lining was that she had Cam.
Last night, when Liz needed a sturdy place to call home, Cam was there. He was outside, holding her, kissing her hair and her neck and her cheeks until the tears were dry.
The daybreak brought new clarity, which Liz hated to realize she’d been lacking. She was ready to tell Cam about Domus. About how a program in Milan might factor into their future.
Then both of their phones buzzed at the same time.
In an instant, Liz glanced at two notifications that sent her gut spiraling to her toes.
The first was from Roseanne. Liz’s heart sped up as she read it, skimming the incoming gray cloud.
Phrases like “family heirloom” and “sick with sadness” and “utterly disappointed” popping out like bullets.
The ring.
“You—you told your mom that I lost the engagement ring?” Liz stammered, throat suddenly dry, heartbeat preparing to race. “We said we would deal with it when we got back home. Together.”
Cam covered his face with his palms. “I’m sorry. It was a photo.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night. I sent the group photo of all of us, with the decorations. She wanted to see how it turned out and I wanted to thank her, but then she realized your ring was missing.”
“She realized last night?”
Cam nodded. “I feel like such an idiot. She’s so upset, of course.”
“You talked about this with her last night?”
He just motioned to his phone. Through the cracked screen, Liz picked apart the text messages between Roseanne and Cam, the sadness she expressed over the lost engagement ring. She was disappointed, of course. Angry. That’s why Cam had come outside, to get some air, to process the tricky situation his fiancée had put him in. When that didn’t work, he told her, he had thrown his phone in frustration.
“This is why I wanted to tell her,” Liz said, her voice tight. “I would’ve gotten flowers and promised to pay her back, messaged it correctly.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize she’d be able to tell from the photo.”
Emotions overwhelmed Liz. She felt suffocated and trapped and foolish and sorry. How could she have been so rash to have lost the ring in the first place? Why had she thought it would be okay? Why hadn’t she called Roseanne and confessed immediately?
Why was Liz making the wrong decision at every turn?
She’d lost her sense of navigation. It felt like Liz and Cam’s official engagement had morphed into something she didn’t recognize, like a sculptor had thrown the base out the window and started, lopsided, from scratch. Roseanne had always been loving to Liz, welcoming, always calling Liz her bonus daughter, gifting her hand-me-down designer clothes. Roseanne was strict, sure, but once you made it into her circle, she was fiercely loyal. She was a front-row kind of mom. A read-articles-about-your-job-industry kind of mom. A brag-about-you-to-the-cashier kind of mom. Everyone in town was constantly kept up-to-date on Cam’s and Mac’s and Liz’s successes.
Liz used to love that. Now she wasn’t sure where she stood. The ring was inexcusable, a huge mistake. But it felt like a bigger change was brewing beneath the surface. Was Roseanne annoyed that Liz wasn’t better at wedding planning? Was she upset with her for some other reason? Or was Liz simply reading into everything, feeling more sensitive to it all, because of her own loss?
Had she made a terrible mistake?
Then Liz let herself read the second email. The second announcement that had buzzed on her phone and threatened to ruin everything.
It was from Domus.
To Elizabeth Gray,
Thank you for your application to the Domus Fellowship. We received an unprecedented level of qualified applicants and it is with regret that we are not able to offer you a spot at this time. You have been added to a wait list and if there are any subsequent vacancies, you will be promptly notified.
Liz couldn’t read the rest. Wait list. Tears rose up in her eyes. She felt crushed, her options eviscerated before her. It was almost worse than a flat-out rejection. The hope, she knew, was futile. What were the chances of a wait list turning into an acceptance? Who in their right mind would turn down a dream like Domus, would let Liz walk their path instead? It would never happen, she knew. She resigned herself to the reality: Milan would not be for her.
Did she still have to tell Cam? What would she even say? Oh, I know your mom is royally mad at us, but also, I secretly applied to a master’s program in Italy and I didn’t even have the chops to get in.
She was stuck. With these shifting relationships, suffocating forces.
She looked at her fiancé and was taken aback by the level of sadness in his eyes.
Why make this morning worse?
He didn’t need to know. Not yet.
“It’ll be okay, right?” Cam said, pulling her against him. “We’ll be okay?”
Liz didn’t know how to answer honestly. She hadn’t been honest all summer, so why start now?
“Sure,” she said. When they were teenagers, she’d teased Cam about how sure was her least favorite word. It was so noncommittal, so laissez-faire. Now she couldn’t manage anything more than the world’s smallest promise.
“I’m gonna take a shower,” she said, feeling her morale sinking. “Clear my head.”
She grabbed her toiletry bag and towel and tiptoed through the house. Past the sleeping bodies hungover on the couch. PJ and Georgie, surrounded by empty beer cans and Nintendo 64 controllers. Liz had to smile—at least someone had a fun summer night.
Still, their summer ease felt in sharp contrast to her own heartbreak. She loved these people. What did it matter that she’d spend another year at home with them?
A smaller voice couldn’t help but wonder. Would her mom have wanted her to expand her horizons? Would her mom have been disappointed to see that her daughter didn’t even have what it took to get in?
Liz wished she could call her.
The showerhead in the outdoor shower let a steady stream of water fall onto her shoulders. She couldn’t help it. She started to cry.
Then she heard a voice that made her eyes open wide.