Chapter 43
FORTY-THREE
“I wore black for months after Thomas died.
He hated when I wore black; I hated that he died.”
—excerpt from the unpublished memoir,
Darling, I Must Say by Gloria Hayes
The day before the movie with Abe, I drove into Houston to meet a guy about a plant. Literally. In a Walmart parking lot in a sketchier part of town, he handed me the goods without saying more than three words to me and those words were, “Where’s the cash?”
The Philodendron Spiritus Sancti was not what I would call aesthetically pleasing.
From the base of the stalk, six smaller, curvy stalks sprouted in all directions.
Long, thin, dark green leaves with a waxy finish drooped from each stalk, just one at the top, although a couple were still waiting to unfurl.
I clipped it in the front seat with the belt. “I have no idea why the plant people go nuts over you. We need to name you. Any ideas?”
He (I assumed) didn’t reply.
“Okay, then. This is up to me. How about Chad? You could be a Chad.” I frowned. “I’m trying to imagine Abe chatting with a Chad and it’s not working. Oh, what about Rick? That’s Humphrey Bogart’s character’s name in Casablanca. That’s perfect.”
I had to laugh. Only six weeks ago, I’d spent my birthday talking to a jar of pickles. Turns out I actually could make small talk… to inanimate objects.
On Saturday evening, I stood on Abe’s doorstep, my heart thumping against my ribs. I held Rick in my hands with a big red bow around him. Abe opened the door and stared.
“Hi. This is for you.” Very smooth.
“Is that a Philodendron Spiritus Sancti?” Abe asked in a reverent tone.
“This is Rick.” I handed it over. His fingers brushed mine as he carefully took it from me.
“I don’t know what to say.” For the record, he wasn’t talking to me; he was talking to Rick. Plant in hand, he turned and wandered away, leaving the door wide open.
“Yes, thank you. I’ll come in for a minute.” I closed the door behind me and tracked him down in the sunroom.
“Let’s put you right here.” He’d moved several other plants to make room for Rick in a place of honor. He was adorable. Not Rick, Abe. Although Rick was kind of growing on me.
I leaned against the door jamb, unable to keep a smile from my face. “I’m guessing you like it.”
Abe turned to me and grinned. “But why?”
I shrugged. “I wanted to get you something to say thank you. You know, for the wedding, and… and tonight.”
He crossed the room and stopped in front of me. “You didn’t have to.”
“I know. I wanted to. That’s why it’s a gift.”
“Thank you,” he said quietly. He stepped closer and his eyes traced my mouth, my cheeks, my nose with such intensity, it felt like he was touching me. My breath caught as I watched him back, waiting.
He moved closer still, his hand brushing mine as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my cheek, right on the corner of my mouth. I held my breath hoping he would do it again. Instead, he pulled back and he smiled. “We should get going.”
The movie theater had gone all out for opening night, and they’d asked all moviegoers to dress with Old Hollywood in mind.
Abe wore his suit from the Shady Cove dance, which was especially fitting because I wore the same dress.
Except I’d wanted to dress it up a little.
I’d added long black gloves and a black, floral fascinator with a veil.
An actual red carpet was there for us to walk down. Photographers lined up and snapped our photos. We posed for them, Abe’s arm around my waist, one of my legs kicked up, and both of us grinning like we didn’t have a care in the world.
In hindsight, we might have wondered exactly where those photos would be used and who would see them.
But something happened to us when we stepped foot in that theater.
For a few hours, we could pretend we were living a different life, in a different town where no one knew us.
Our problems could be forgotten for a few hours.
I could pretend I knew exactly what my life would look like come the fall.
Abe didn’t have the weight of his father’s judgment.
Maybe that’s why Abe held my hand during most of the movie. Or why he held me when I sobbed at the end. It could explain why Abe drove the long way to Two Harts. Or why I felt like I was floating?
“That movie was worth the wait,” I said as we pulled into Abe’s driveway next to my car.
As soon as I got out of his car, the pretending would be over.
I’d drive back home and go to bed and wake up tomorrow like it was any other day.
I rolled my head to the side to look at him.
He looked so handsome. The cab of his truck was dark and quiet and maybe that made me braver.
“I always told myself I wouldn’t watch Casablanca for the first time unless it was with someone special. I’m glad I saw it with you.”
“I’m honored.” His eyes glided over my face, lingered on my lips. My mouth tingled. “I’m glad I saw it with you, too.”
“I don’t want to get out of this car,” I whispered. “All of this will end.”
“We can sit right here for as long as you want.” The sound of him unclicking his seatbelt was so loud.
“Okay.” I took my seatbelt off, too.
Our eyes locked and I wasn’t sure who moved first, maybe me, maybe him, but I liked to think it was both of us.
One second, we were on opposite sides of the car and then next we met in the middle.
Abe’s hands cupped my face, and time seemed to slow down.
I thought he might have been giving me time to tell him to stop when all I wanted to do was yell at him to hurry up.
That first kiss was messy and a little awkward and perfect. And it seemed to go on forever and ever. We broke apart just long enough to breathe.
“I’ve wanted to do that since that damn supply closet,” Abe murmured. He kissed the corner of my mouth.
“You did?”
He hummed and kissed the tip of my nose, the corner of each eye. “It was your birthday and you looked angry and sad all at the same time.”
One of his hands slid to the back of my neck as he kissed me again, less urgent, slow, languid. I melted.
But then he pulled away and rested his forehead gently on mine, sadness in his eyes.
I swallowed. “We’re still just friends when we get out of this car, aren’t we?”
He sighed. “Yeah. This was probably a big mistake.”
“But maybe—”
He gave me one last kiss, before he slid away and got out of the car, standing awkwardly with his hands in his pockets as I climbed into my own car in a daze.
My hands shook as I drove home, maybe from the effects of those kisses, or the anger rising up. It was hard to know where one feeling ended and the other began.
I wanted to relive this night over and over again but instead, all my brain latched on to were his words: “This was probably a big mistake.”
My hands gripped the steering wheel, and I realized I was driving ten miles over the speed limit.
I was so tired of everyone else telling me what I should do. What was right and wrong. No one, not even Abe, asked me what I wanted. And bristly, tough Iris had always been too afraid to tell them all.
I pulled up to my house, stomped inside, grunted a greeting to my mom, and marched to my room. After changing into a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top and washing my face, I crawled into bed.
And I fumed.
The more I thought about all the people in my life who liked to make decisions for me, the hotter my blood boiled.
Aidan and all the tiny ways he tried to control me.
Mae and her magic grad school plan. My father who’d made me feel less than my whole life.
Even Ellie assuming I’d be quitting. The more I thought, the more I wanted to scream.
But the worst of all was Abe. I thought he understood me. I thought he saw me. I wanted him to see me.
I spent another hour tossing and turning before I gave up on sleep altogether.
In the kitchen, I drank a glass of water. What would Gloria do in this situation? I had no idea. But I knew exactly what Iris was going to do.
ME: I’m at your front door.
Then I waited. But not for long. Abe opened the door, much too alert to have been sleeping for the last two hours.
Good. I marched up to him and poked him in the chest. “Listen. I’m tired of everyone telling me what’s best for me.
You know what I want? I want someone to ask me what I want. Just once.”
Wisely, he did not try to interrupt me.
“And another thing, if that kiss was a mistake, I want to make the same mistake again. That’s what I want.”
I grabbed the front of his t-shirt, twisted it in my hand as I pulled him toward me, and kissed him.
I just meant it to be an exclamation point to all my ranting, but it quickly changed into something else when he took over, hands roaming.
When we broke apart, both of us were breathing fast and every inch of my skin felt hot. I shuffled back a couple of steps.
“So, let me be very, very clear here—what I want is you, if you weren’t getting that.”
I stomped back to my car, got in, and pulled away. All the while, he stood in his doorway, watching me.
It was only as I was about to finally drift off to sleep, I realized he hadn’t said a single word.