Chapter 12
I’ve been here for hours, since before the sun came up, and the sign is almost finished. The wood’s still rough, and the paint is a little too thick in places where it wouldn’t cover the old, but it’s beautiful.
And it was the last thing left to do.
After this, it’s final signatures and flyers and maybe some kind of re-opening to get people excited. And then it’s all up to the town, to Diana’s father.
“Wow,” Diana says, bright as ever as she approaches at a more reasonable time. “You finished it.”
I don’t look up. I dip the brush again, going over the curve of the R.
She comes closer, and my stomach turns. “Where’d you run off to last night? I was looking all over for you.”
I shrug. “Home.”
“That’s all I get?” she laughs, like nothing’s weird. Like she didn’t abandon me for her friends, like she didn’t leave me standing there like some idiot who clearly didn’t belong.
I don’t answer.
After a minute, she says, like it’s a joke, like it’s impossible, “Are you mad at me or something?”
I rinse the brush in the jar beside me, watching the water turn cloudy red. “No.”
It comes out flat. Honest. It’s not anger anymore. Just this dull space where something special used to be.
She shifts her weight, sensing the tension in the air. “You could’ve at least told me where you went.”
I look up. Her hair’s perfect, of course, glossy and curled perfectly, and her dress… she looks like nothing could ever touch her. She’s always been good at that. I don’t have that same ability.
“I didn’t think you’d notice.”
Her lips turn down, and her eyebrows come together. “Of course I noticed.” I pick the paintbrush back up and dip it into paint that the sign doesn’t need more of, but I’d do anything to not have to look at her again.
For a long, uncomfortable moment, she stands there and I can feel her watching me, but I don’t look back up.
“Is this about what happened between us? I thought it was good… I thought we were okay.” And she sounds so fucking sad.
I can’t make myself care.
“We are,” I tell her, even though it sounds like a lie.
“Then why are you acting like I ran over your dog?”
“I don’t have a dog.” More paint.
“That’s not the point, Lily.”
I sigh, setting the brush down for good. The sign looks fine. Better than fine. It looks great. I can’t let whatever this bullshit is between us ruin it like it’s ruined me.
She folds her arms across her chest, looking at me like I’m being difficult. Like the way I feel is some huge burden on her.
“Then what is the point? You disappear, you won’t talk to me, you won’t even look at me—”
“Because I don’t know what to say.”
Diana blinks at me, her perfect composure faltering. “You could start with what’s wrong.”
I laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You wouldn’t want to know.”
“Yes, I would.”
“No,” I say quietly. “You really wouldn’t.” I keep myself busy, gathering the brushes, screwing lids back on the paint. Anything but looking at her while that shifts around in her annoyingly pretty head.
“Lily,” she says, as careful as she can. “If I did something—”
“You didn’t.” I finally look up, meeting her eyes. “You didn’t do anything. You never do.”
Her mouth opens, then shuts, like she knows she should be hurt by what I said, but she doesn’t get it, and I don’t have the energy to explain it.
How could I tell her that I’ve spent the last decade hoping she’ll see me the same way I see her?
She looks down at the sign, like the fresh paint will have the answers, pout fully in place. “I’m trying to be your friend.”
“Yeah. I know.”
That’s all she ever meant it to be. I was the one who turned it into something else. I was the one who thought that maybe what happened between us meant something to her when it obviously didn’t.
She hesitates, biting at her thumbnail, something she only does when she’s really nervous.
“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.”
It’s been a week since Diana and I have really talked. Busy mornings and late nights have replaced our quiet moments. Getting ready for the re-opening, hanging decorations, putting the finishing touches on the garden, all while pretending the silence between us isn’t deafening.
She threw herself into it like a woman on a mission, organizing everything. I could tell she was exhausted, running herself into the ground to make sure everything was perfect. And now, the day of the reopening, she’s nowhere to be found.
The garden looks beautiful. Better than I ever thought it could. The newly painted sign gleams under the sun like it wasn’t face down in the weeds only a couple of months ago.
Kids are playing amongst the flowers, a table is piled high with lemonade and cookies, and music plays from the radio Pat rigged up.
He’s standing by the grill, flipping questionable burgers. When he catches me looking, he gives a little wave with the spatula and that stupid grin that tugs a smile onto my own face.
Clara shows up at some point, Tommy in tow, of course. She’s dressed in a fancy party dress, blue ribbons in her hair, talking a mile a minute, telling Tommy about how she helped hang the decorations.
“Clara, Tommy!”
“Hi Lily,” they say in unison. When I crouch down to wrap my arms around Clara, it hits me again that Diana isn’t here. I keep looking towards the gate, waiting for a flash of that perfect hair or her ridiculous sunglasses.
I smooth Clara’s hair back, the blue ribbons slipping loose already. “Where’s your sister, Clare-bear? I haven’t seen her.”
“She stayed home,” she says, with a big sigh. “She wasn’t feeling good. She even threw up.”
Tommy wrinkles his nose. “Ew.”
Clara giggles, like grossing Tommy out is her greatest accomplishment. “She felt bad about leaving you all alone and promised she would come if she felt better.”
I force a smile, even as my stomach twists with worry. “She better. She worked too hard not to see it all.”
I scan the crowd again, just in case, like maybe she’ll appear. Bright and beautiful and pretending everything’s okay between us.
She doesn’t.
The afternoon drifts by in flashes of laughter and music. Everyone keeps telling me how amazing it looks, how proud we should be.
I am proud of us. It’s perfect, everything we could have hoped for, better than. But it feels a little bit less joyful without Diana. This was our thing, and even though I’m mad at her, I still wish she was here.
Pat comes to stand beside me at some point and nudges me with an elbow. “You good?”
“Mhm.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About her.”
I don’t answer. I keep watching the gate, the music drifting soft in the air, wishing she’d walk through it.
“Go check on her,” he says into the tense silence.
My eyebrows shoot up.
He nods, wipes his hands on his jeans. “I can hold down the fort here.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, even though my heart picks up in a way that tells me I’ve already decided I’m going.
Pat sees straight through the act.
“You’re not gonna relax ‘til you know she’s okay. So go make sure she is.”
I glance back at the half-empty garden. It looks like a tornado blew through, paper cups scattered across the grass, the banner drooping a little at one end. It’s all worth it to see the place we used to love be something again.
“You sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”
“I’ve been doing all the work anyway,” he says with that crooked grin, but it quickly falls, his expression turning serious. “Just don’t let her hurt you again, okay?”
The words land heavy, a reminder of that night. I nod anyway.
“I won’t.”
But as I grab my stuff and start the walk to her house, I know it’s not that simple.
The truth is, no matter how much I tell myself to let her go, I don’t think I could ever stop loving her.
The first thing I notice when Diana opens the door is how bad she looks. Her eyes are glassy, her face too pale except for the flush on her cheeks. “Lily?” she asks, like she’s not sure I’m really here.
“Yeah.” I shove past her into the house, trying to stay cold even though every part of me wants to take care of her. “Where’s your family?”
She lifts a shoulder in a weak shrug. “Still out. Probably went to dinner.”
I don’t want to be worried, she doesn’t deserve it, but she looks awful. Her clothes are all wrong, loose, mismatched, the kind of outfit she’d rather die than be seen in, and don’t get me started on her hair.
“Are you okay?” I ask, unable to hide the concern in my voice.
Diana shakes her head, pressing her hand to her stomach. “I’ve been sick all day. ”
She winces like the words alone turn her stomach, but gestures for me to follow, so I do.
The living room is dim, and the coffee table is cluttered with a glass of water and an uneaten bowl of soup. She lowers herself onto the couch slowly, breathing through her nose like she’s still trying not to be sick.
I hover nearby, stupid and unhelpful. “Di… what’s going on? You look really…” I trail off, not wanting to insult her while she’s sick.
“My stomach’s been horrible. And I keep getting dizzy.” She presses a palm to her forehead, hiding her face in her hand. “I’m so sad I missed the garden, Lily, but I couldn’t…”
I swallow thickly, an awful ache spreading through my chest, seeing her like this. “Do you need anything?”
She opens her eyes enough to look at me. She looks tired. Vulnerable. “Will you…” she pauses, like she’s not sure I will.
I would give her anything right now.
“Will you hold me?”
“What on earth is going on in here?!”
My eyes snap open.
I almost don’t remember where I am. But that’s when I realize Diana is draped over me, her breath warm through my shirt in soft exhales with one of her hands fisted in the fabric over my stomach.
My other arm somehow ended up around her, holding her close. Her legs are tangled with mine under the blanket from the back of the couch.
It’s intimate, no doubt about it.
And her mother is standing in the doorway.
I try to sit up, but Diana’s so tangled around me that I can only get halfway before she stirs with a soft noise.
She blinks up at her mother, disoriented. “Mom?”
“Diana Rose, explain yourself.” She’s quiet, but fury drips from every word.
“I—I’m sorry, Mrs. Rose,” I stammer, trying to sit up without making it all worse. “She wasn’t feeling well and we must’ve… uh… fallen asleep.”
Her mom’s eyes flick to the drool stain Diana left on my chest. She doesn’t say the thing she’s clearly thinking, but her suspicion hangs in the room like a threat. “Fallen asleep,” she repeats.
Diana pushes herself upright slowly, pushing her hair out of her face. “Mom, please.” She says, like it’s no big deal, “I asked her to sit with me.”
“And somehow you ended up on top of her?”
Diana winces. “I didn’t mean to. We fell asleep.”
Her mom’s mouth tightens even more. “This is not how young ladies behave. You should both be ashamed of yourselves.”
My stomach twists at the reminder.
I stand, smoothing my wrinkled shirt, avoiding both of their eyes. “I should get home.”
“I’ll walk you out,” Diana says, standing too.
Her mom cuts her a look I don’t want to read into. “Go to your room, Diana.”
“It’ll take one minute,” she challenges.
They hold each other in a silent standoff until her mom gives a clipped nod, stepping aside with that disapproving silence she’s so good at.
When we finally step outside, I take a deep breath, the fresh air filling my lungs after the suffocating tension in that living room. Diana’s mother’s last words ring in my ears, tight with judgment, and my face is still hot with embarrassment.
Diana? She thinks it’s hilarious.
The second the door clicks shut behind us, she can’t stop giggling, covering her mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my God, did you see her face?”
“I did,” I whisper-shout. “She was furious! I can’t believe she—”
“She always is,” Diana interrupts, waving her hand like the whole thing is nothing. “Lighten up. It’s fine.”
It is not fine. My stomach is still in knots. But she looks so pleased with herself that all I can do is follow her down to the end of the driveway.
Halfway there, she grabs my arm. “Wait.”
When I face her, she’s looking at me with this soft pout that has my heart rate picking up. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers over the neckline of my tank top. “I drooled. Right here.”
Her smile tilts, teasing. “You do make a good pillow.”
I groan at her horribly timed flirting. “Diana.”
She steps closer. “Come on. Don’t be mad.”
“I’m not mad,” I start to say, but she leans in like she’s going to kiss me, and I jerk back, whispering harshly, “Your mom is right inside!”
“It’s dark, no one can see us out here. And you haven’t kissed me in an entire week. I miss you.”
“Still, we shouldn’t,” I try, but my voice is already losing its strength, and she’s looking at me the way she does when she knows she’s going to get what she wants.
“Come here,” she demands.
I listen.
Her mouth finds mine, warm and slow, stealing my breath. My hands find her waist automatically, and she sighs, melting into me.
When she pushes me back until my body meets the metal of a car door, it shocks a gasp from me.
She doesn’t miss a beat, kissing me deeper, hungrier, our tongues tangling roughly.
And all that anger I was holding onto? It melts away with every kiss. I can’t help it. She touches me, and I fold.
When she finally pulls back, she’s breathless and smiling. Her lips are a little swollen, her hair messier than before, and for a moment, I can’t remember anything except the way her breath feels on my lips. “See you tomorrow?”
I nod. “The garden?” she asks, brushing her nose against mine like she’s reluctant to let me go.
“Yeah,” I breathe out. “I’ll be there.”
She grins, big and bright, and gives me one more soft kiss before turning and running back toward the house. She doesn’t look worried at all, like the way she kissed me against her parents’ car was perfectly okay. Normal.
I’m still leaning against the car when the door shuts behind her, but the moment I stand up straight, something flickers in the window, and my heart jumps.
When I blink, it’s gone. Only lace curtains.
Perfectly still.
I tell myself that maybe it was nothing. My brain is still spinning from Diana’s mouth on mine. I take one last glance at the house before starting down the sidewalk, a nervous chill running up my spine.
I can’t shake the feeling that someone saw something they shouldn’t have.