42. SEVEN YEARS AGO
FORTY-TWO
SEVEN YEARS AGO
LATE SPRING, SENIOR YEAR
PAIGE
“I need a beanie, Paigey May!” Gram announced, hobbling into my room.
“Hey!” I said from the bed—a little harsher than I meant to—pushing myself off the mattress. I took a breath, looking at my sweet grandma.
Her fall a few weeks ago had me in drill sergeant mode. She was still supposed to be on bed rest—and I swear to Buffy, it was like trying to trap a hummingbird.
It happened the day Linc went to San Diego with Mr. Harris. I came home from my shift at Queenie’s to find her on the floor in the kitchen, crying and groaning in pain.
I shook my head to clear away the memory, and instead watched as she started to try and reach up to the shelf in my closet. Her light gray hair was tied up in a wily bun, her cozy cardigan hugging her crescent posture.
When she pulled on a sweatshirt, a bunch of other ones came tumbling to the floor, and I walked toward her. “What’d I tell you about unnecessary movement, woman?” I muttered, trying to sound more playful, but I linked my arm through hers, and tried to slowly start walking her back to her bedroom.
“And why do you need a beanie?” I finally asked with a small laugh. It was the end of April—a far cry from the small bit of chilly weather we’d occasionally get in the winter months. “Are you too cold in your room?” I asked.
She gently pulled from my arm, and stepped away. “I’m fine, Paigey. I hurt my back—I’m not in damn traction!” This time, it was her turn to take on a harsher tone, making me swallow the lump in my throat.
Gram was an independent woman in every sense of the word. She was moving slower, her back was still recovering, but she was okay. And I knew better than anyone that she could take care of herself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, honestly. “I just don’t want you to get hurt again.” I leaned my forehead to hers. “I need you, ya know?”
Her face softened immediately and she held my cheek before her arms stretched around my back, holding me tight. “You’re sweet to worry about me, baby. But I’m doing just fine.” She released me and backed up with a mischievous smile, the one that made my own lips pull up. “Plus, I’ve gotta stretch,” she said. “Practice my dance moves for tonight.” I snorted a laugh, and she added, “Elly-boy said I could DJ tonight.”
I laughed again, with a nod. The beanie made a little more sense now . Still, I took Gram’s arm with mine and slowly started walking her back toward the door, across the hall. “Even more reason to rest up.”
When I tried to back out of Providence’s prom, we had decided—well, Ellis decided—that we were having an anti-prom here at the house instead.
As we got back to Gram’s room, I casually tried to edge her toward the bed, a silent suggestion to take her bed rest fucking seriously.
She shooed me away with a small chuckle. “If I take a nap, will you get off my hunch?”
We both laughed this time, and it felt good. I’d always appreciated her ability to laugh at herself—to be silly, even in scary moments . . . even when we were waiting for the ambulance to get here that night.
She was on the floor, writhing in pain, and she said, “If one of those fellas looks like a young Eastwood, you make sure he’s the one checking things out, if you know what I mean.”
I huffed a laugh. I still had yet to confirm whether or not she meant Clint Eastwood.
But more importantly, if she was in fact going to DJ our silly get-together tonight, then she really did need to get some rest.
“If you actually nap and don’t just take a weed gummy, we’ll talk,” I told her, my mouth tilting with playful challenge.
She rolled her eyes, and I stood idly as she climbed into bed, her body flinching as she lifted her legs.
She yelped and I immediately held my hand out to her. She grabbed it, puffing out an exhale as her soft small palm tightened in mine.
Shit. “Are you okay?”
She nodded, her teeth clenching. “Muscle spasm.”
God, it was so fucking hard to see her in pain. I hated it, but I kept holding her hand until it must have passed, and her grip loosened. I turned on the heating pad, and just a moment later, her body relaxed into the mattress. “Just twenty minutes with the heat,” I reminded her.
She nodded. “Right. Don’t wanna overcook.”
A small laugh—mostly a sigh—escaped me. I could tell her quip was half-hearted. As I got back to her door, I lingered, then asked, “What color beanie do you want, Lemon Lady?”
She smiled, the same one that made me smile, then she said, “Yellow.”
The house looked . . . Well, it looked like an over-decorated gym—at least it did last time I was downstairs. But Ellis was supposedly still “ setting up ,” so it was anyone’s guess as to what movie clichés I’d be walking into.
It seemed like a lot of fuss for what was essentially no different than a regular Friday night. But I also couldn’t deny that trying to have fun tonight sounded good. Necessary.
I’d have backup with Linc, Ellis, and Maisie—and thankfully, Gram had miraculously spent the day in bed . Granted, it was only because she was crocheting a fucking lemon beanie, but . . . she still rested.
Using the mirror on the back of my bedroom door, I carefully practiced the fading technique with my bronze color eyeshadow, going for a natural smokey eye.
Well, unnaturally, natural.
As I finished my other eye, I released a heavy breath, then added just a little bit of mascara, brightening the blue in my irises, and I used a small bit of highlighter under my eyes to hide the dark circles.
My chin lifted and my mouth pinched at the corner.
I was getting better at the makeup thing.
Maybe that would help with my lack of outfit options.
The night Gram fell —the ambulance ride, the hospital stay— it took a decent chunk out of our meager savings. Not to mention the follow-up appointments that would continue to add up. So, money for a prom dress was out of the question.
Of course, I would never mention anything about it to Gram, and I didn’t tell the boys either. All I told them was I didn’t want to go to Providence’s prom because I didn’t want to leave Gram alone.
Which was also true.
But the money didn’t matter, I told myself. I mean, truly all that mattered was that Gram got the care she needed, and that she was okay.
I could always make more money.
In fact, I already was. Queenie was letting me keep my Tuesday night gigs through the summer, and had started giving me a cut of the cover charges. And I just snagged one of the lead roles for a new indie movie shooting down in San Diego in a few weeks.
I guess Linc had met the director, Dylan, with Mr. Harris at the screening down there a few weeks ago. I only had to send Dylan one audition side before Pauper Productions sent me a written offer last week.
The pay was actually pretty decent for a small-budget movie, and even better than that—Mr. Harris was able to get Linc a grip position on set. So, at least we would be there together.
The reminder that Linc would be there had a way of calming my anxiety about the whole thing.
I just wanted to do a good job—make a good impression. But film wasn’t my forte , despite what my hot-director boyfriend might have thought.
Still, the promise of incoming funds lifted my chest, and I shook out the waves of my long, blond hair.
Crossing over to my closet, I looked where I had hung my options for tonight. I was still trying to decide if I should wear the blue dress Linc liked from my voice recital last year, or lean into the anti-prom vibe and wear my tight purple dress and rainbow fishnets.
A knock at the door made me jump, my eyebrows pinching. But after only a second, my mouth twitched as I felt it —the sensation of eyes on me— even through the closed door.
“Come in,” I said, fighting my smirk.
Turning, I saw Linc popping his head in, his smile boyish and melting me down to goo. With a small dip of his chin, he said, “Hey!”
“Hi,” I laughed. “Care to venture the rest of the way into the room, or are you trying something out?”
He snorted, “No—uh,” he stopped, giving his head a small shake. “I—uh—I got you something.”
“Buffy bless, you are terrible at this!” I heard Ellis calling all the way from downstairs.
What the hell is going on?
I walked over to Linc lurking in the doorway—and as soon as I cleared the view of the dresser , my mouth fell open.
He was holding a dark blue strapless dress with a neckline of crystal-looking stars along the bust. My eyes traveled the rest of the way down, seeing a soft tulle material for the skirt, also dotted with crystals.
It’s so beautiful. My throat suddenly clogged with emotion, and my eyes shot up to him. But then I wasn’t looking at the dress. A tingle stirred low in my belly. Hot damn, Linc looked fucking gorgeous.
His dark waves of hair were styled, but in the messy way that made my fingers ball up —feeling grabby— but his eyes were hypnotizing, a fierce mixture of greens and browns, gold flickering. And his toned body was all wrapped in a slate gray button-up and black slacks.
The urge to whistle was strong, but luckily, my mouth was still hanging open. I finally shook my head, then looked back at the Starry Night dress he was holding.
“Do you like it?” he finally asked.
My smile stretched, nodding, as I grabbed the material of his shirt and pulled him into the room.
“Wanna know how much?” I smirked just before I threw my arms around him, kissing him hard and pulling him into me. His lips met mine with matching enthusiasm, plunging his tongue into my mouth.
I nibbled and licked his bottom lip just as his hoarse chuckle pushed between our lips. “It’s a selfish present, really,” he mumbled, but paused to take my lips again, then whispered, “ I’m the one who gets to look at you all night.”
Oof. I was two seconds away from climbing him like a damn tree. But the reminder that we were in a house full of people stopped me. That, and the idea of what his face would look like when I put the dress on was enough for me to give him one more peck and pull away. He whined and my toes curled into the floor as I giggled.
He handed me the dress, but then pulled me back into him—“Oh, come on, can’t I help you get into it?”
“Hoo-hoo! Thatta boy!” I suddenly heard Gram howling from just outside the door, and Linc quickly stepped back, bumping into the wall and tripping, before catching himself.
Gram’s head peeked in. Whoops. Guess we didn’t close the door.
A small rosy tint caught Linc’s cheeks, and he looked down at the floor, chuckling awkwardly. “Sorry, Darlene.”
Damn, I loved him. So fucking cute. I loved that he could be a bossy dirty-talker one minute, and a bashful bumbling goober the next.
Gram patted his shoulder with another laugh as she passed. “Nothing to be sorry about.” She looked at the dress I was holding and her eyes brightened. “Can I help you finish getting ready, Paigey?”
I didn’t have much to do other than put on the dress, maybe some lipstick—but I accepted the offer with a small nod and a smile. She looked like she wasn’t limping as much. That felt good to see too.
Linc gave me another shaky-knee-worthy grin, then said, “I’m gonna go see if Ellis needs any help.”
I reached out for his hand. “Thank you, again, for my dress.”
He gave me an ever-so chaste kiss on my knuckle, a kiss that did not match the devious glint in his eyes, and then he walked away.
I watched him from just inside the door and as he reached the stairs, his eyes met mine with a promising smirk. I’ll help you out of it later.
My shoulders jerked with a small huff of laughter, giving him my own silent message back —You better.
LINC
I swiped my palm down my face, sitting at the kitchen table. “What are you making?” I asked Ellis—who was in a full-blown tux, standing at the counter, and mixing some shit together in a bowl.
“Lemonade,” he said simply, but then proceeded to free-pour a bottle of vodka into the bowl.
I pushed to stand, taking three quick steps toward him. “Jesus, dude—” I scoffed, my hand stopping him from pouring more. “Darlene’s on painkillers right now, Maisie’s here.”
With an easy smile, he mocked, “ Duuude, I already got the okay from Darlene—who agrees that a prom without booze is basically a baby shower.”
I couldn’t respond. What the fuck did that even mean? After another beat, Ellis shook his head, then gave my cheek a playful smack, “You’ve really gotta lighten up, man. You and Paige-Monster.”
I frowned, irritated, but trying not to be.
I knew Ellis was just trying to make this a fun night. And God knows we could use it. But I also knew there was only so much fun Paige could have right now.
I had never seen her more distraught than when I met her at the hospital. Jeremy dropped me off as soon as we got back to town, but visiting hours were over. So Paige came out and sat with me in the waiting room while the nurses reset some of Darlene’s IVs.
She cried and cried and fucking cried. And I couldn’t do anything but hold her. I sat with her while the doctors talked to her. It was all good news—the fall wasn’t from any underlying illness, her back would heal with proper rest.
She kept herself together while the doctor finished, but as soon as he walked away, she cried some more.
I just wanted her to enjoy herself tonight. One worry-free night.
“Ta-dah!” Ellis half-sang, then said, “I present Spiked Angel juice.”
“Like Buffy !” I heard Maisie squeal, as she ran down the steps. She’d insisted on being part of “girl time,” and as I met her in the living room, I couldn’t help but laugh at her varying shades of purple.
Her sundress was more of a lavender, swinging with each of the last three steps, and she flung a violet sequined boa over her shoulder. “Can I have some Spiked Angel juice?” she asked, her big brown eyes widening.
I shot a look at Ellis, and he conveniently looked toward the back door where no one stood.
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head, then looked back at Maisie. “No Spiked Angel juice for you yet. It’s spiked ’cause it has bad stuff in it. And you’re just a wee Loaf, remember?”
She made a noise that sounded somewhere between a groan and a giggle, but still gave me a hug. I knew secretly —deep, deep down— she loved the nickname. Her face smushed into my torso before she looked up at me, her smile inching up to meet her light brown eyes. “Paigey looks like glittery midnight.”
My smile stretched further —certain that Maisie’s evaluation was a perfect description of the girl upstairs.
My girl.
Paige never came out and said it, but I knew money was tight right now, and Ellis agreed she deserved to feel like the beautiful badass that she was for a night, so we split the cost of the dress —though, like the solid buddy he is, he let me take the credit.
The sound of him dunking his cup into the bowl brought me back to now, and I looked over, watching him take a sip. His eyebrows flinched. “Strong,” he coughed, then his lips smacked. “Tart.”
Maisie and I both laughed, as I felt my shoulders relax.
Maybe Ellis was right. Everyone was crashing here, so we didn’t have to worry about driving. And if Paige wanted to have some of his Spiked Angel juice —I could make sure Darlene was okay for the night.
Whatever she needed.
Just as the thought passed, Darlene started to walk down the steps in a simple, light green dress, with a knit hat that looked like . . . a lemon, but her eyes intermittently peeked behind her.
My eyes followed, and I saw black heels step onto the highest stair. My mouth ticked up at the soft click from the shoes, but it was nearly drowned out by the creaking from the steps.
It would have been funny, if I weren’t totally and completely blown the fuck away, the second Paige came fully into view.
My weight wobbled as I took her in. The dress looked fucking incredible —no surprise there— but her hair is what caught my attention.
It was wild and teased with . . . dark blue streaks.
Suddenly, I felt a small hand push into my back. I assumed it was Maisie, but I couldn’t confirm it before my feet staggered to meet Paige at the foot of the steps.
Her smile was practically glowing, like moonlight meeting the stars on the neckline of her dress —Glittery midnight indeed, I thought to myself.
Another beat passed before she huffed a small laugh, her eyes squinting. “Are we in She’s All That right now?”
I shrugged, telling her, “I think it happened accidentally.” But just as the words left my mouth— fucking Ellis started playing “Kiss Me” by Sixpence None the Richer, on his phone from the kitchen.
“Guh!” Darlene made a noise that jerked both of our chins in her direction, but we quickly saw that it was just a “ swooning ” moment. I chuckled, shaking my head.
When I looked back at Paige, she was giggling but her eyes sparkled—everything about her was shining—and I leaned into the moment.
Holding out my arm, I offered it to her. She smiled and playfully hooked her hand right above my elbow. “Such a gentleman,” she said, but then her smile tilted, teasingly. “The last step is a real doozy.”
Darlene chuckled, and so did I.
Such a brat.
*** .
This is better, I told myself. Again.
Only an hour into our prom at home, I was able to safely say this was way more fun than some cruise Providence Academy organized around the marina—340 bucks a ticket. Black tie. Such bullshit.
But this was more our style anyway. Maisie and Darlene made a bunch of snacks, Ellis convinced Paige to have one of his Spiked Angel drinks, and now they were blasting music and dancing —well, more like jumping— around the living room with Maisie.
Per usual, I was filming it, watching them all twirl each other—Ellis basically having to limbo to make it under Maisie’s arm.
“Put your back into it, Ellis!” Maisie ordered, and Ellis laughed. Paige did too, clapping and bending at the waist—the soft tutu-looking material of her dress swaying.
Some Spice Girls song started as soon as I lowered my phone, and stopped recording. Just as I felt an elbow nudge into me. “Hiya, Lincles.”
I snorted a laugh, looking over. But my smile fell when I saw Darlene’s posture a bit more curled. “Do you need the heating pad?”
Paige told me she brought it down just in case .
She waved me off, shaking her head. “No, no. Jeez Louise, you kids are the most careful teenagers I’ve ever met. A little pain is just a reminder that we lived a little harder.”
I smiled, but it was a sad one. Darlene was a wacky pool of knowledge and wisdom, but I was old enough to know that it all came from a lot of pain. Losing her daughter, her husband. And the world didn’t stop and wait for her to recover from those things. Through all of that hardship, she was raising Paige.
She took my arm, bringing me back to now as she said, “That’s quite a dress.”
I smiled, looking over at Paige and Maisie doing a choreographed dance—while Ellis shook his head off to the side.
“You will never be the sixth Spice Girl!” he yelled, just as Paige tackled him.
“Take it back!” She growled, her dress fanning out as she took Ellis down to the couch.
Then Maisie jumped in with, “We can all be Spice Girls! Everyone calm down!”
I laughed and so did Darlene, as the fight from the three of them faded into noise. Darlene squeezed my arm as she said, “I’m so happy you all have each other.”
There was a different tone to her voice —dreamy but somehow serious— it wasn’t how she usually sounded, and I looked back over to her, meeting her stormy blue eyes. “A friendship like the three of yours . . . it’s just nice to know you’ll always take care of each other.”
My chin dipped in a small nod, but I couldn’t shake the serious pull to her voice, the tension in her hand around my arm. Where was this coming from? Was this because she fell?
My hand clasped over hers. “You know I’ll always take care of her,” I said, quietly, unsure of what else to say.
But I felt like that’s where this was going. It made sense that a mortality scare would make someone a little more sentimental or worried, but she gave me a sweet smile, and looked up at me. A small sigh mixed with a tiny laugh escaped her before she shook her head. “Don’t be so old-fashioned, Lincoln. I would never expect you to always take care of her.” She leaned her head on my bicep, then added, “Love, partnership—I think it’s all about taking turns holding the light in the dark pockets of life. Sometimes she’ll hold it, sometimes you—hell, maybe you’ll both lose it at a certain point. But as long as you both always remember you have it —that it’s there— you’ll find your way back. And you know our girl can take care of herself for a bit if she has to.”
I liked and disliked everything she was saying. When Paige and I started dating, both my mom and Darlene were ecstatic. But, while we were both teenagers with a decent amount of responsibility, our parents never let us forget that we were young and had a lot of life ahead of us—that things could change. And I hated the very thought.
But she also seemed so sure that Paige and I were tethered, guided by a light that only existed between the two of us. Something that couldn’t vanish completely.
More importantly, it also felt like she was looking for reassurance of sorts, that Paige would be okay when she was gone —”Our girl can take care of herself for a bit if she has to.”
I gave Darlene an assuring squeeze on her hand with a small nod. I was certain she’d never have to worry about Paige being alone—not while I was here, but—“Of course she’ll be okay,” I said, then leaned down, saying a bit quieter, “You raised her.”
Everything about Darlene . . . lifted. Her eyes, her smile, her shoulders. “I raised her.” The pride in her voice filled in my own chest, as she stared at Paige like she was her life’s greatest achievement.
In the distracted moment, I looked over at the piano, an idea surfacing just as I glanced at the big purple armchair we had moved to make room for the dance floor.
My eyes flicked to Darlene. “Think you could play a song if I moved the chair over there? Put the heating pad on it?”
Darlene’s shoulders straightened even more, her eyes gleaming as she stared over at her piano in the corner of the room like an old friend. It swelled an ache through my chest, but she squeezed my arm again, her eyes a glittering sea as she said, “Now that’s a party!”
“Linc,” Paige said, holding onto me. “I think I’m going to be drunk forever.”
I laughed, shaking my head as I pulled her forehead to me, kissing it, and then twisted toward her nightstand to grab the water bottle I brought upstairs.
I handed it to her. “No, baby. It’ll wear off, but water will help.”
“ Holy water,” she half-sang quietly, wiggling her shoulders with a little giggle, followed by a hiccup.
I laughed again. “Right. Drink the holy water.”
Ellis created a monster with the Buffy-themed mixed drink—not just with the name, but the concoction was boozy as fuck— and I couldn’t be sure how many Paige actually had. She’d told me anywhere from none to all of them.
Anti-prom came to an early close after Darlene played the piano. She pushed it —playing a few songs— and then willingly admitted she needed to go rest.
But it was worth it. The small bit of time Paige and Darlene spent by the piano was a joy unmatched. And Paige seemed to keep her inebriation at bay until Maisie fell asleep on the couch about an hour ago.
A quiet gasp, pulled my focus back to Paige as she put her water bottle back on the nightstand, then asked, “So, do you think Ellis ditched us for dick?”
I laughed, but she wasn’t wrong, necessarily. Ellis ended up calling a car about twenty minutes ago, and since he was planning on staying here tonight, I guess that would be the assumption.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. He hasn’t mentioned anyone to me.” Though, Ellis didn’t really talk about that stuff with me.
The subject was seemingly dropped when Paige adjusted her weight, wobbling as she sat in a high-kneel position before I reached out and held her hips, steadying her.
Her hands clasped over mine, and it burrowed my fingers deeper into the soft material of her skirt. My eyes pulled up to meet hers and I felt the corner of my mouth tick up.
The glassy tint to her gaze looked like rippling water, while her blond and indigo hair cascaded in chaotic waves over her shoulders. The night sky fanned beneath her in her dress. Shining, I thought. She was the moon and the sea.
My eyes fell to the neckline of her dress, and I leaned forward, kissing her lightly on her collarbone.
“I’ll need to find somewhere else to wear this,” she said quietly, and I pulled back a bit. Her eyes glanced down at the dress. “It’s too nice for just the living room.”
Just then, I felt her hands tighten on mine. She quickly shot out of bed, and bolted toward the door—just before I heard her vomit from the bathroom.
Aw, Pip. She wasn’t ready for Casper pours.
I followed behind her, preparing to help her through it. I opened the door to see my moon and sea . . . on the floor—hugging the porcelain goddess.