Chapter 76 Deli
Deli
“Move People!” Blair called as she held the door open while Andrew cleared William and Lachlan’s path.
“Mom?” Lorraine jogged to keep pace with the brothers as they carried Rosemary toward the parking lot. “MOM!”
Deli had sprinted ahead with Aunt Mo. She threw anything cluttering the back seat of Aunt Mo’s car onto the drenched asphalt while Aunt Mo turned the key in the ignition.
“Go!” Deli closed the door and hit the top of the car with the flat of her palm. Aunt Mo’s tires squelched against the wet gravel as she wrenched the car back toward The Wallflower. The rain sent dark ribbons of Deli’s hair streaming into her eyes as she jogged behind.
“I said, I’m fine.”
Deli nearly cried out at the sound of her grandmother’s voice. It had to be a cruel trick of the wind. She’d seen her collapse. By the time Deli caught up, Lachlan and William were massive shadows backlit in the yellow glow of the pub’s window as they stood over the open door to the back seat.
Lachlan started toward her as she closed in. on the car. “Deli . . .”
She pushed past him and yelled at her mother standing beside the passenger’s seat, “Mom, get in! We have to go!”
“Tell that to your grandmother!” Lorraine barked back.
“She’s—”
Rosemary’s voice, now coming from the back seat, was unmistakable. “I’m fine.”
“Grandma?” Deli ignored the sting as she dropped to her knees on the asphalt to search for her grandmother’s face where she lay across the back seat. “You’re okay!”
“Sure, minus the cancer,” Lorraine muttered from above them.
Rosemary propped herself up on her elbows. Even with her hair flattened and a swipe of mud on her chin, she was the most elegant woman Deli knew.
Her grandma smiled. “Don’t frown like that, you’ll wrinkle.”
Aunt Mo twisted in the driver’s seat. “Mom, I think we should still go to the hospital.”
“Agreed,” echoed Lorraine.
Rosemary tutted. “I just need a shower and stronger ankles. The cottage will do.”
Deli reached for her hand. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
Grandma Rosemary squeezed it. “Absolutely.”
“Okay.” Deli stood. The rain had softened. In her head, she started sorting through the many pieces that needed picking up. “I think I should apologize to Blair.”
Lachlan cleared his throat. “Go, Mo. Get Rosemary home. I’ll take Deli when she’s ready.”
“Thank you,” Aunt Mo answered.
“Mom, put your seat belt on, for god’s sake,” Lorraine said as she disappeared into the passenger seat. A moment later Deli watched as the car pulled away, taking the silhouettes of her family with it.
She stared into the dark, shaking in her ruined dress. Hot tears threatened to fall.
Enough, Delilah. She needed to be practical. So dramatic.
She took three long breaths, each steadier than the one before.
Then she pushed through the brothers before either could say a word, grateful for the wall of stifling heat on the other side of the door to chase the chill that had grafted itself to her bones.
Inside, Douglas was perched on a chair, telling the room a dramatic story.
Blair threaded her way to Deli. “Is she alright?”
“She’s alright. Well, I mean, I think she’s alright. Aunt Mo’s taking her home. Blair, I’m so sorry—”
“Shut up.” Blair crushed her in a hug so warm and honest it threatened to break the retaining wall she’d already erected in her heart. Deli pointed at the watery grit she’d left staining Blair’s quicksilver satin.
“Blair, your dres—”
“Deli, it’s just a dress.”
“I’ll take it into town. I’ll pay for it to be cleaned.”
“Deli MacDonald, you’re about to go in time-out.”
“Oh.” Deli blinked. “Mom voice.”
Blair nodded. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Now, are you okay?”
Deli tried to take inventory of herself, but she felt . . . nothing.
“I don’t . . . know?”
“Mmhmm. And is Lachlan in love with you?”
Lachlan hadn’t actually said he loved her. It was Lorraine who’d used that word, and she’d used it like a weapon.
“I . . . don’t know?”
“Of course he is, I was only asking to be nice. The more important question is . . . do you love him back?”
The suggestion of Deli loving Lachlan felt like being plunged into frigid water. Her time with him played in her mind like a wonderful, horrible, irresistible, unfinished movie of arguments and pining and pain and promise. And still . . .
He made her laugh. He made her reconsider. He kissed her like he’d been put on earth to do little else. He had made her feel safe enough to let go. He’d said things to Deli that she’d waited her entire life to hear. And he’d stood up for her to her mother.
But first he’d been ashamed of her—and it made her question everything.
And there was Trey. Trey, who she’d loved for many years. Trey, who’d been a best friend. Who missed her. Who didn’t want to lose her. Who had been about to say . . .
“What?” Blair asked flatly.
“It’s just . . . Trey—”
“Oh my god, fuck Trey Evans, that bawbag!”
Douglas fell silent mid-squawk with a leg and his arms still in the air like a giant crane as the remaining well-wishers turned their heads toward Deli and Blair.
A bony hand wielding a walking stick poked through the cozy cluster, and the white wispy curls of Andrew’s grandmother followed. She scowled, looking scandalized.
Then she yelled, “Aye, fuck Trey Evans! The fanny!”
Everyone with a drink held them into the air. “AYE!”
Blair nodded. “Nan is wise and has known many men in the biblical sense. You should listen to her.”
“Was she a pilot? A touring musician?” Deli peeked over Blair’s shoulder to get a glimpse of the grandma with a prolific list of past lovers. “A stripper?”
“A nun.”
“I have to meet her.”
Blair took her hands. “Deli, I can’t tell you how to feel. But I can tell you this: Tonight, I learned that Lachlan never really loved me. Tonight, I learned what it looks like when Lachlan is in love. Because he is in love with you.”
Deli shook her head. She didn’t want to listen.
She had no idea what to do. She’d only known Lachlan for a month, but she’d known and loved Trey for years. He’d been everything she wanted—why she came here in the first place. He’d even been about to say he loved her. Trey was about to tell Deli he loved her.
But then . . . then Lachlan, and the difference in how she felt about herself when they left a room, and the way he’d been a part of everything without Deli even knowing from the start.
When Lachlan hid her from his brother moments after he’d been more intimate with her than anyone else—moments after she’d given up on Trey for the way he left her suspended in insecurity—it had hurt Deli.
He had hurt her. In a real, wounding way.
But he didn’t seem ashamed of her on that dance floor. He’d protected her, claimed her in front of everyone. Though it could have been about his brother, not her.
“Maybe Lachlan was just . . . jealous seeing me with Will—which was nothing, by the way, but apparently enough to tackle him for—”
Something clicked into place in her head, halting her thought before it finished. The way Lachlan had watched her and William together like it was a crime—like he’d do anything to get them apart.
A photo had been leaked to the press, sending hounds after whoever William was “seeing.”
He’d put his hand on her shoulder just as she was about to find out about her picture flooding gossip magazines and apologized for it. I’m so sorry.
Lachlan’s voice made her jump. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes,” Blair said while Deli said, “No.”
But the truth was, Deli’s mother had torn her fantasy apart, then Deli watched her grandmother faint into the mud, and all the other decisions and heartbreaks and hopes became so, so much smaller. Her family had come.
And now they had to go.
“I’ve got to get back to my grandma, Blair. But I’m so sorry for my disastrous family. I feel like I ruined your wedding.”
“Please, it was better entertainment than we could have paid for around here,” Blair said. Deli turned to leave, but Blair didn’t release her hand. “Hey, I love you, too, you know.”
A pang of guilt shot through Deli, colliding with what she already knew.
“I love you, Blair.”
She hoped her friend couldn’t hear the louder word beneath her love.
Goodbye.