Chapter 35
I haven’t seen much of Diana lately.
Which is stupid, because we’re together now. She finally read my letter, and after all of this time, she still loves me. She has loved me.
But somehow, I’ve seen less of her than I have all summer.
She’s busy, I tell myself. Planning this absurd wedding, she’s decided we need to have. I never should have taken her to Iris and Nate’s wedding.
I should have known that would inspire her.
I kick a pebble down the sidewalk as I walk through town alone. Rosehill looks the same as it always does, too proud of itself if you ask me. In recent years, they’ve started to develop quickly. Little shops popping up and closing down faster than the town can give them a chance.
I stop short when Mrs. Jackson waves at me from across the street. “Lily!” she calls with a smile, making her way over even though socializing is the last thing I want to do right now.
I force myself to raise a hand. “Morning.”
She crosses the street without waiting for traffic to clear, making a car slow down for her. “Haven’t seen you in a bit,” she says. “You doin’ okay, hon?”
“I’m just fine, Mrs. Jackson. How are the grandkids?” I don’t really care, but everyone knows that’s how you get her to stop prying into your life.
“Oh! They’re wonderful! Did you hear the news? I’m going to be a great-grandma!” She pulls her phone out and struggles with it until she finds a picture of an ultrasound image.
It doesn’t look like anything but a blob to me, but I still take the phone with a smile. “Well, look at that. Boy or girl?”
She frowns, taking her phone back. “They want to be surprised. Isn’t that the craziest thing you ever heard?”
“It sure is.” It’s best to agree and move on.
“I’d better get going, I have an appointment to make,” I say, backing away before she can do anything but wave and call out a goodbye.
I keep walking, ducking into the hardware store for lightbulbs I’ve needed for ages, trying to shake the feeling I’ve had for days.
I know this is ridiculous.
I know she isn’t avoiding me.
Diana’s always been like this when she’s planning something, total focus. I’ve seen this version of her before. Back then, it was flowers and guest lists and her mother yelling at her over the way her dress fit.
Now it’s the same, but it’s not for Scott Whitmore, that cheating asshole. It’s for us.
So why do I feel like this?
I thought, after everything, that once we were finally on the same page, I wouldn’t feel this way anymore. That I wouldn’t second-guess how she feels about me, that I wouldn’t worry about being abandoned by her.
Apparently, I haven’t grown as much as I thought.
The condo is on the second floor of a building that smells like some sort of generic cleaner. It’s one of the newer buildings in town, lacking any sort of personality.
A young woman in heels and a blazer unlocks the door with a professional smile. “This is the one I mentioned on the phone,” she says. “It’s recently come available.”
The moment I step inside, I know I don’t belong here.
Everything is white. White walls, white trim, marble countertops that shine like they’ve never been touched.
Hell, even the floors are a very pale gray.
“This is the living area,” the realtor says, gesturing broadly at the oversized room.
I nod, taking it in, but the only thing I feel is that my paint-covered jeans are too dirty for a place like this.
Objectively, it’s fine. Nice even. Open concept, big windows. The kind of place they’d love on one of those house-hunting shows.
I bet Diana would like it.
I picture her walking through this space, her eyes lighting up, already imagining the expensive furniture she would decorate with.
“The kitchen’s fully updated,” the realtor continues, gesturing toward the kitchen. I don’t have any opinion on the kitchen or its stainless steel appliances. Most nights, I eat a turkey sandwich.
“The bedrooms are down the hall.”
My feet move, but my mind lags. I’d scuff this place up in a week. Scratch the floors, nick the walls. If they saw the state of my house, they’d never let me live here.
“This room is the master,” the realtor says, pushing open the bedroom door.
I’m realizing, standing in a bedroom I’m supposed to be impressed by, that we never actually talked about this.
Should we be doing this together?
Do I want to know her thoughts on this place?
“So,” the realtor says, watching me expectantly. “What do you think?”
I drag my eyes away from all of the white. “It’s nice,” I say, because it is, for someone.
She smiles, encouraged. “It’s a great space.”
I nod again, my gaze drifting back to the window.
Diana is somewhere out there.
“I’ll need to talk about it,” I hear myself say. “With my…” The words are heavy and strange on my tongue, but I clear my throat, forcing them out anyway. “My partner.”
“Take your time,” she says with a bored nod, now that she isn’t getting a sale today.
I still thank her, stepping back out into the hallway, and breathe a little easier once the door closes behind me.
If Diana likes it, it will be fine. I can live there. But as I head down the stairs, I can’t shake the feeling that I don’t want fine.
By the time I get home, my bad mood has settled in for the night.
I kick my shoes off and head straight for my room, which is slowly becoming less of a mess as I pack things up.
Boxes are stacked everywhere, intentionally labeled by Diana, but have mostly become a catch-all for everything I don’t know what to do with.
Books in clothes boxes, clothes in book boxes, oh well, they’re all going to the same bright white condo in town.
I plan on sorting things for the rest of the evening, try to keep my mind off of things, but it doesn’t work. I open a box, stare into it, and forget what I was looking for in the first place, because my eyes won’t stop drifting to my phone.
I told myself I wouldn’t be like this. I survived my whole life without her. I can handle a few days.
I can’t.
The phone rings long enough that I think she isn’t going to answer before she actually picks up. “Hi, sweetheart.”
The name hits me hard, the same way it used to. But she’s never called me that like this, outside of stolen moments between us, when we thought that was all we would ever have.
“Hey,” I say, the corners of my lips quirking up without my permission. “I was—”
“I’m so sorry, Lil,” Diana cuts me off. “But I can’t talk right now.”
My smile falls.
“Oh, okay, I wanted to check in.”
“Can I call you back later?”
“Yeah.”
“I love you.” The call ends before I can say I love you back, and isn’t that a perfect example of what we are right now.
I throw the phone down and sink onto the edge of the bed, burying my head in my hands, pulling on the strands of my hair.
I shouldn’t read into it. That’s what Pat would say. He would tell me that Di loves me and that I’m looking for problems when they’re not there.
That I should be happy we’re finally together, and things are good.
But he’s not here to tell me that, and it doesn’t sound right coming from me.
I have no idea what’s going on with Diana.
All I know is, she’s avoiding me.
Diana shows up the next afternoon.
I don’t rush to the door. I stay where I am, standing in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, frowning at the state of my life. And this stupid insecurity.
I hate that it’s back. I hate that after everything, this is the feeling I get when I see her.
We’re supposed to be happy now.
When she lets herself in, finding me right away, she lights up like nothing’s wrong.
“Hey,” I say, taking a sip of my coffee.
I’m not faking it for her. I don’t care if she knows I’m upset, which she does, reaching for me the moment she sets her purse down onto the table. “Are you okay?” she asks, brow creasing.
“I’m fine.”
Diana steps closer, her hands settling at my waist. I don’t react, even though my body wants to. “You don’t seem fine.”
I shrug, looking away from those annoyingly sincere eyes. “I thought maybe you’d fallen off the face of the earth.”
And I see it. The guilt.
So there is something for her to be guilty about. I knew it.
“Lily…”
I pull away from her, turning toward the sink, busying myself with rinsing out my cup, scrubbing it harder than it actually needs.
“I know I’ve been busy,” she says carefully. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings—”
“I said it’s fine,” I cut in. “I get it. We finally get together, and then you’re too busy to see me. Makes sense.”
She winces.
“That’s not fair,” she says calmly. “I want us to have a wedding, I’m doing all of this for us, because I’m happy.”
I turn back to her before I break the damn cup, arms folded tight across my chest. “You got a funny way of showing it.”
She reaches up, ignoring that I’m clearly pissed at her, and brushes her thumb along my cheek, her eyes shining.
“Words can’t describe how happy I am that we found each other again.” She pauses, looking down, taking her hand with her.
“But at the same time, I’m so sad about what we lost that it feels like it might tear me apart.”
“I’ve been keeping busy because if I don’t,” she continues, “I start thinking about all the years we didn’t get. About the life we could have had if my mother hadn’t—” She cuts herself off. “And then I look at you, and I feel it all at once.”
So she has been avoiding me.
Because of my face.
“I’m right here,” I say, the words sounding too earnest when I’m supposed to be mad. “You have me now. I know I’m not the same as I was back then, but—”
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, stepping closer until there’s not much space left between us. I let out a shaky breath, my decision to be petty slipping away.
“If this is too much, you can tell me. We can go back to the way things were. I know Scott died recently and—”
She shakes her head, “You could never be too much, Lily Price. I love you.”
I finally lean into her, letting her rest her forehead against mine. “You hurt my feelings.”
“I’m sorry.”
Her arms wrap around my waist, and mine go reluctantly around her shoulders when she pulls me closer. Being in her arms makes all the fear and frustration go away in an instant.
It always does.
“I guess I forgive you. Just don’t disappear again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
I press my cheek to hers, letting her words soak in. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
The hug says everything we don’t need to put into words. We’re here. We love each other. Everything is okay.
“I went to see a condo yesterday.”
Her eyes lift to mine, a little more red than normal. “You did?”
“Yeah.” I shrug, trying to sound casual and failing. “It was… fine. Very clean. New. So much white.”
She smiles, sliding her hands from my waist to rest on my hips. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“It isn’t,” I admit. “But I figured maybe you would like it.”
That makes her frown. “Why would you think that?”
“Because… I don’t know. It seemed like somewhere you’d like.”
She’s quiet for a moment, considering it with a tilt of her head.
“I don’t want a condo.”
“You don’t?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to live somewhere that doesn’t feel like you.”
My heart starts to race as I get my hopes up way too early. “So… you want to move in together?”
“Of course I do. As soon as you’ll have me.” She hesitates, then adds, “But I don’t want you to sell this house.”
“You don’t?”
“This is your home, Lily. You’ve built your life here. And when I move in, maybe it won’t feel so lonely.”
“I don’t want you to feel stuck here,” I say, avoiding her gaze. “Like you’re living in my shadow.”
For some reason, that makes Diana laugh, shaking her head like I’ve said something hilarious. “You misunderstand how obsessed with you I am.”
I smile along with her. “You’re obsessed with me, huh?”
“I mean it,” she insists, leaning closer, her eyes as bright as they were when we were kids. “I want to live here, in your house, where it looks like you and smells like you. Where your art is scattered everywhere, and your clothes are thrown in weird places.”
My breath catches.
“I want to be surrounded by you,” she continues, softer. “Okay?”
There’s a beat of silence while my brain tries to catch up with what she’s saying. Finally, I nod, the only thing I can do, other than hope she can’t see the warmth I can feel on my cheeks.
But something changes in her expression, something I might mistake for heat.
She pulls me closer, like we’re not already touching everywhere. “Come here.”
Our mouths meet in a kiss that’s anything but gentle.
So far, it’s only been soft touches. Both of us still a little bit scared.
This kiss is not scared.
Her lips part enough for her tongue to brush mine. I feel it everywhere, the rightness, the want. The sensation spreads through me in a rush, landing in my lower stomach.
I kiss her back just as deeply, savoring this moment the way I would have back then, a force of habit, even though I have forever to do it now.
“Yeah,” I murmur when we pull apart, smiling like a dazed idiot. “Okay.”