Chapter Nineteen
Lottie
“Careful now.” I hold the front door as Anthony assists his mother through the opening. The porch stairs were the biggest challenge. Thank the good Lord Camila’s bedroom has always been on the first floor.
Doris flutters and fusses and fawns over Camila until I gently shoo her out of the way. “Give her some space, Doris, or she’ll get overwhelmed. You don’t want her to end up back in the care home tomorrow, do you?”
Properly chastened, Doris takes a seat in her favorite armchair—Anthony calls it her throne—as Camila tries out a solo walk down the hallway.
“My, but does it feel good to regain some independence.” She smiles at Anthony as she reaches her doorway. He’s right behind her, ready to support her if she falters, but she remains strong all the way to the bed. “Home.” Her smile is wistful. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever make it back.”
I dart past Anthony to give her a careful hug. “Welcome home, Camila. I hope you don’t mind, but I organized a very small party to celebrate your return. Just Felicity, my mom, and Amelia. Blaine’s got some animal emergency at the shelter.”
Camila pats my cheek. “What about that brother of yours? And Daphne? Is she still out west?”
I plunk myself onto the bed beside her. “Easton’s got his hands full on the farm. Daphne…” I trail off. It’s been weeks now since I’ve heard from my younger sister. “She was in San Francisco last I heard.”
Camila’s wise eyes process my words, and she takes my hand. “ ‘The Lord is near to all who call on him.’ ” Her eyes seek out Anthony. “Your father’s favorite verse. Do you remember?”
His eyes crinkle at the sides as his face eases into a fond smile. “How could I forget?”
She’s back to me, taking stock of my face, and I squirm. “Don’t you stop taking your burdens to the Lord, sweet Lottie. He hears each cry.”
Yes, but does He answer?
Tears threaten my vision, and I blink them back. This is supposed to be a happy occasion. I clap my hands. “Let the celebrating begin! I picked up cheesecake from Right Way, and my mom’s bringing our first batch of sweet corn. It’s—” I kiss my fingertips and set them free “—divine.”
Anthony looks interested. “Farm fresh sweet corn, huh?”
“The best variety to be had, sir.” I tug on his tie. “Nothing tastes better than bodacious.”
“Bodacious,” he echoes. “That’s a daring name. Alright, I’m up for the challenge.”
It’s the most he’s said to me all day, and I breathe a bit of relief. Five days ago, our date was a dream come true. It feels like weeks ago. He hasn’t asked me out, but we’ve spent every available moment together. Tuesday directly after work, we took Felicity to the county fair in Knoxville. Anthony was busy taking it in. The next evening, he took me on a date to Des Moines where he finally had that pho he’d been missing. Me, I had a hard time getting the noodles from bowl to mouth, but I told him I was doing it for the “cultural experience.” He laughed, but he didn’t say much else. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. At least, not to me.
Last evening we visited Camila together, then watched a movie at my place and had popcorn. He was quiet again, but once Felicity went to bed, we made out like teens. He knows when to stop, and I respect him for it all the more.
But why is he so quiet?
A sense of foreboding fills me as his phone rings while I’m dishing up cheesecake an hour later. Doris is yacking my mom’s ear off, and Camila reigns supreme at the table with Felicity and Amelia. Anthony’s face tightens when he looks at his phone. He jerks his chin at me.
“I have to take this. I’ll be back.”
If he went onto the porch, I might have followed him. But he trots up the stairs. To his room. Purposely out of earshot.
I ignore the feeling of sifting sand inside me and shovel cheesecake into my mouth. Anthony returns a few minutes later, but the ripple of his brows, the lowered eyebrows that signify deep thoughts within, do little to calm the storm building in my insides.
“Is everything all right?” I ask him quietly, stepping aside toward the hallway. He follows me but offers no reassuring touch. “You look…stressed.”
He gives the most quizzical look, as if he has no idea how to answer. I want to reach up and smooth the almost-black locks that are as furrowed as a field from his fingers tunneling through. A sure sign of agitation.
His throat contracts as he forces a swallow. “I can’t talk here. Can we go to your place?”
Lead weighs down my feet as I guide the way. I face him on my porch. “What’s going on?”
He examines his shoes. “That was my boss. A client’s court date was moved up. To Tuesday. I have to go back to Atlanta.”
My fingers tremble, and I clench my fists. “For how long?”
He drags his gaze to mine, and in his eyes, I see the truth.
“You’re going back for good.”
A sigh pours out of him, and he looks away. “Lottie… I should never have started anything with you. I knew all along it couldn’t go anywhere. I can’t live here. My mom’s back home, she’s well again.” He looks at me once more. “I’m not needed here anymore.”
But I need you. The words scream for release until I think I’ll explode. But I can’t have him, even if he stayed. I’ve known this all along, and I was never honest with him about it. I entered this with eyes open and begging for heartbreak. For both of us.
Shame on you, Lottie.
I also fell in love with the guy, but that’s decidedly beside the point. Somewhere in the past few days, I forgot he was destined to leave. But he’s doing it. What men do best.
Bravely, I lift my chin, hoping the smile I’ve pasted on doesn’t look as painful as it feels. “I wish you all the best. Thank you for giving me such sweet memories this summer. I’ll never forget it.”
He appears about to crack, his eyes closing, his posture sliding south. I back into my doorway. He takes a step toward me, as if he’ll grab me one last time. I can’t let him do that.
“Goodbye, Anthony.” I gently close the door, staring into his face until the last sliver of light is extinguished—and the end of a blue tie is left sticking through the doorframe.
“Lottie?” His voice is hushed on the other side of the door. “If this is your way of trying to keep me here…it’s not going to work. Can I have my tie back?”
I open the door a few centimeters, and the tie slips away. A giggle bubbles in the back of my throat, and I give in, letting it out, but it quickly transitions into a sob. I try to stuff it back inside, but then I’m sob-laughing with my forehead against the door.
And I was trying to be so calm and collected.
“I’m so sorry, Lottie,” I hear Anthony’s anguished voice above my mewling. I could put the cows to shame. “I’m sorry.”
Then he’s gone.