Chapter 18 #2
“You shouldn’t have called her,” her mother continues. “You don’t need her. Not today. Not ever again. Do you understand me? You are going to marry Scott, and you are going to behave like the woman this family raised you to be. Not whatever Lily Price has turned you into.”
That’s it.
I back away from the door, my vision a blur. I don’t wait to hear Diana’s reply. If I hear her try to defend me, or worse, agree, I’ll shatter right here, outside of her bedroom door.
“Jesus Christ,” I shout as soon as I stomp into the RV, making Pat flinch awake where he’s napping on the couch. “That woman is a monster. I swear to God I’m gonna fucking—”
He sits up straight, blinking at me like I’m not making sense. And to be fair, I’m not. But the walk home was enough to send me into a blind rage.
“Uh. Hi? What the hell happened?”
“She—” I choke, too mad to talk, too furious to breathe. “Diana’s mom. That bitch. She talked to her like—” My voice breaks, not with sadness but with pure, uncontrollable anger.
“She said Diana barely fits in her dress when she looked beautiful, she said she shouldn’t be eating, that Diana ruined her life, and it’s all my fault!”
Pat’s face goes through several different emotions as I explain the situation poorly. His eyebrows go up in surprise, then his jaw tightens, and his eyes narrow dangerously. “She really blamed you for Diana getting knocked up?”
“Yes, Pat, like with her whole chest!” I snap, pacing again. “And she’s forcing Diana to go through with this stupid fucking wedding. She’s miserable, and scared, and her mom’s just… she’s—” I drag my hands through my hair. “Such a bitch.”
Pat lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Jesus. Poor Di.”
“I know,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “She shouldn’t have to marry him because she’s pregnant.”
Pat stares at me for a long, considering second.
Then he stands up slowly.
“You know…” he says, stretching leisurely, like he’s not about to say something fucking insane. “Diana doesn’t have to get married.”
My shoulders drop as the fight drains out of me. “Yes, she does, Pat.”
“I’m serious.” He crosses the room to stand directly in front of me, tilting my face up to get me to meet his unusually intense gaze. “She doesn’t have to marry that asshole. She doesn’t even have to stay here. None of us do.”
“Pat—”
“We can leave,” he says, simply. “All three of us. Get the hell out of Rosehill. Start over somewhere.” I look up at him with wide eyes, and he steps closer, lowering his voice.
“You and Diana… you could be together. For real. No parents, no Scott, no high school drama, no bullshit.”
It’s completely still in the RV while Pat waits for my answer to his insane proposition. Leave everything behind?
“Lily,” he says gently, “You can save her.”
I press my lips together, my pulse hammering hard in my chest. It’s not like the idea hasn’t crossed my mind, of course I’ve dreamed of running away with Diana. But it was always that, a silly dream.
Now, after everything I’ve been through with her this summer, it starts to make a kind of sense that feels dangerously close to hope.
“Run away? For real?”
He nods. “If you want her, if you want all of this to stop, then you have to tell her how you feel before the wedding, and don’t hold anything back. She has to know this is an option.”
I close my eyes, my heart slamming against my ribs, letting myself imagine it.
Diana and me, living together, maybe on a little piece of land somewhere, raising her baby together.
It’s everything I’ve ever wanted, and it’s starting to feel like I can have it.
If I’m not too late.
I spend hours at the table with a notebook and a pen, threatening to run out of ink. The afternoon sun leaks through the thin curtains, giving me enough light to work.
I write the letter. I tear it out.
Too desperate.
I try again.
Not desperate enough.
I rub my eyes with my hands, groaning in frustration. God, why is this so hard? Why can I talk circles around anyone, scream myself hoarse in a fight, pour my soul into my art, but when it comes to her, when it comes to something that actually matters…
My hand shakes.
I start again.
This time, the words come slower. Heavier. Not elegant or clever, but the raw, honest truth.
True in the way that makes my throat ache, that makes me stop every few lines because my vision blurs and I have to wipe the tears away before they drip onto the paper.
I write about us. Who we were and what we could be. The future we could share, every dream I’ve ever had.
I write what I’ve been too scared to say out loud. What I’ve held inside for years. What loving her means to me.
It feels like I’m putting my entire heart on a piece of paper for her judgment, but I don’t stop. What I’m asking her, the weight of it, she deserves to know the full extent of my love for her.
When I finally finish, the sun has started to go down. My hand is cramped, and my eyes hurt from crying. I sit back and read through it, making sure it’s everything I’ve ever wanted to say to her.
When I finish, I fold it carefully with trembling hands, smoothing every crease. Anxiety is crashing over me in waves at the thought of her knowing everything.
But she has to.
Because once she reads this, she’ll understand. She’ll know she doesn’t have to marry him, to stay trapped in some loveless bullshit life.
She’ll know I love her, and that I’m offering her a future full of light and happiness and love.
All she has to do is stop the wedding.
When I reach Diana’s house again, the sun has been completely replaced by a full moon, but the place is still very much alive.
I let myself in, stumbling into laughter, clinking glasses, and a bunch of rich-looking faces I don’t recognize.
All of this for a wedding being forced onto her. I’m willing to bet she doesn’t even know most of these people.
I clutch the letter tighter in my hand, more sure that I’m doing the right thing than ever before, and start to look for Diana.
When it becomes obvious that she’s not here, I scan the room until a familiar mop of dark hair catches my eye. Tommy sits on the bottom stair, elbows on his knees, glaring holes into the open room where people are gathered to dance.
I follow his line of sight, finding Scott spinning Clara around while she shrieks with delight, her curls bouncing.
I sit beside him on the step.
“Hey.” He acknowledges me with a grunt, clearly upset. And I think I know what’s going on here.
“You know, Clara will see you one day.”
He glances at me with a frown. “Doubtful.”
“She will.” I bump him with my elbow. “You’re gonna grow up more handsome than Scott Whitmore could ever dream of being.”
That earns me the smallest twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You think?”
Before I can respond, Clara barrels toward us, nearly tripping over her own feet.
“Lily!” She exclaims, throwing her arms around me. I hug her back, careful not to let the letter crinkle in my hand. “Do you want to dance?”
“I’m not staying, sweetie. I’m looking for your sister.”
Clara pulls back, cheeks flushed, curls wild. “She already went to bed,” she announces proudly. “She said she needed her beauty sleep.”
I snort, rolling my eyes, but it’s all affection. “Of course she did.”
Clara’s eyes go big when she sees the envelope in my hand. “Is that a letter?”
I nod, gently pressing the letter into her hands. “Can you give this to Diana first thing in the morning? It’s very important, Clara.”
Her face lights up. “I will!”
“Make sure you do.” I brush a blonde curl out of her face. “I’m trusting you.”
I straighten up, give Tommy one last squeeze on the shoulder, before making my way out of the place I could never belong.
The party noise swells as I pull the door open, but somehow it all feels far away.
Because for the first time in I don’t know how long, I feel light.
Tomorrow, everything changes.