Chapter 36
Our strolls through town are never very fast.
Diana keeps stopping in all the shops and spends way too much time talking to the cashier or someone she doesn’t even know, browsing the same section. She’s always been that way. Overly friendly. And people have always loved her, unlike me.
I’ve had to work hard to carve out my place here, but I have.
I hold her hand anyway.
It feels strange, walking through town like this. No sneaking or pretending. Holding hands in the middle of the afternoon without a care in the world.
She swings our hands as we walk, smiling at people who smile back. Someone calls her name, and she waves, and I can’t help but feel that familiar mix of pride and irritation twist in my chest.
We pass the bakery, the florist, the gift shop that’s managed to stay open. Somehow we’re doing this now, in broad daylight, and there’s a permanent smile on both of our faces.
Her grip loosens suddenly.
It’s small. Almost nothing. A reflex. One second her fingers are tangled with mine, the next she’s pulling her hand back, tucking it closer to her body.
I don’t look at her.
It’s not a big deal. She just accepted who she was. She can love me and still be uncomfortable sharing that with the world. This wasn’t okay before, and habits don’t disappear overnight.
If anything, I should be grateful she’s doing this at all.
I make it three steps before her fingers are back around mine, firm, tugging.
I glance over, and Diana has stopped walking.
She looks a lot more hurt than I feel right now.
“Lily… I— I’m so sorry.” She pulls me closer by my hand, and I can’t help but think that this is a much bigger scene than us walking through town, but I go.
“I didn’t mean to do that. I swear, I didn’t even think about it. It was that man, he—” she tilts her head toward a man who walked past us. “He looked at us and made a face, and I—”
“It’s fine, Di.”
“It’s not fine,” she argues. “I would never pull away from you on purpose.”
She looks wrecked over it. Actually wrecked. Like the idea that she might’ve hurt me is too much to bear.
“I didn’t think you meant anything by it,” I say honestly.
She relaxes a little, but the guilt doesn’t leave her face. And then, she does something that makes my breath catch.
She lifts my hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. Right there on the sidewalk. No hesitation, no looking around, even though there are definitely people close by.
“I don’t care who sees us. I want them to see. I want everyone in Rosehill to know exactly how much I love you.”
I swallow, looking away from the intensity in her eyes. “Okay.”
She’s the one who slows first. I follow her gaze without thinking, and there it is. Tucked between a place that sells handmade soaps and a clothing store for young people. The window is massive, taking up the whole front of the store, and resting at the bottom is a sign.
FOR LEASE
I try to tug her along, but she stands her ground. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Get that look. I know that look.”
She smiles anyway, her eyes still on the window. “It’s a good space.”
“Yeah, and I bet it costs more than our house.”
She hums, ignoring me. “It’s right on Main.”
“Exactly. Mrs. Jackson would come in every day to show me pictures of her grandkids.” Diana laughs softly, having had to deal with that particular brand of torture earlier this morning, but she doesn’t look convinced.
Instead, she moves closer to the window to peer in. “You’ve always wanted a store.”
“Maybe when I was a kid and didn’t know how money worked.”
“Lily, people love your work.”
“That’s not—”
“Four people asked for custom projects at the farmers’ market last weekend. Two asked if you had a website.”
I look back at the shop window. Of course, I would like to be able to sell my art. And Iris could sell her paintings too. We’ve talked about it, but it’s a very unrealistic dream.
“Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I can’t afford it.”
There’s a moment of silence, almost too long, then, “I could.”
I laugh out loud, I can’t help it, it’s too absurd. “Oh my god. Are you serious right now?”
She tilts her head. “What?”
“You’re gonna be my sugar momma now?”
Her mouth drops open. “What? No!” She huffs, offended. “First of all, you bought our house.” “And second,” she continues, squeezing my hand, “I would love to pay for your store.”
“No way.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
She studies me for a long moment, then sighs, deciding to rein herself in. “Okay, I’m just asking you to think about it, that’s all.”
“I don’t want to owe you.”
She cups my cheek, right there on Main Street, thumb warm against my skin. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I try not to picture it as we continue our errands, but I can’t help it. My own little store. I can’t ask Diana for that kind of money. It wouldn’t be right.
But maybe we could figure something out.
We make it to the edge of town before I feel that familiar tightening in my chest. The way my steps slow. It seems that Diana feels the same way, but neither of us turns around this time.
Some sort of unspoken agreement.
The parking lot sits where the garden used to be, old now, needing a fresh coat of pavement, but filled with cars nonetheless. The Rosehill strip mall was there by the time I came back, and I’ve never been able to get myself to go inside.
To walk on the pavement that took our childhood memories.
This time I stop.
Diana does too.
“So,” I say, breaking the silence that’s settled over us.
We’ve never touched this before, not fully, not head-on. But it feels inevitable now.
Something we have to do to carry on.
“Why did you do it?” she whispers, so quiet, trying not to show the hurt, but I understand.
It hurts me too.
“Because I couldn’t stand to look at it anymore. I burned the signatures,” I admit, because I have to. “And we packed up Pat’s RV and left town.”
I look at her then, and I see the hurt in her eyes, clear as day.
I put that there.
“I couldn’t be noble about it anymore, Di. I was angry. I was heartbroken. And I couldn’t do it.”
She nods, absorbing it. There’s pain on her face, as I’m sure there is on mine, seeing our garden covered up by a concrete slab, but there’s no anger, and I’m grateful for it.
I wouldn’t blame her if she was.
“I went to the council,” she tells me.
“You did?”
“I begged them not to touch it, took what little signatures I had. Told them it mattered. They didn’t care. They voted for it to be destroyed.”
“And then,” she adds, “I had a breakdown and told my mother I was in love with you.”
I can’t help the laugh I bark out, completely inappropriate, but I can’t help it. “You did not.”
“I did,” she says, a faint smile tugging at her mouth despite everything. “She… didn’t take it well.”
“Man, I would have liked to have seen her face,” I say, still chuckling, and she follows. “That almost makes it worth it.”
Her arm slides around my shoulders, and I lean into her, resting my head against her. “I didn’t handle it well when you left. I wasn’t myself for a while.”
“I came back.”
She nods. “Clara told me.”
“A year later,” I say, frowning at the memory. “Mom had cancer, and her asshole fiancé left. I can’t even remember that dick’s name anymore.” Diana’s arm tightens around me. “I had to move back home and take care of her. She died not long after that.”
“I wish I had known,” she whispers, sniffling even though my mom wasn’t even nice to her. “I would’ve come back.”
I shrug, even though my heart still aches at the memory of that time. “You’re back now.”
She turns her head, resting her temple against mine. “Yeah,” she says softly. “I am.”
I stare at the parking lot one last time before turning us around to walk back the way we came. “It hasn’t felt like such a loss, since you came back.”
“I feel the same way.”