It Ends With Us

Formyfather,whotriedhisverybestnottobehisworst.
Andformymother,whomadesureweneversawhimathisworst.PartOneChapterOne
AsIsitherewithonefootoneithersideoftheledge,lookingdownfromtwelvestoriesabovethestreetsofBoston,Ican’thelpbutthinkaboutsuicide
Notmyown.Ilikemylifeenoughtowanttoseeitthrough.
I’mmorefocusedonotherpeople,andhowtheyultimatelycometothedecisiontojustendtheirownlives.Dotheyeverregretit?Inthemomentafterlettinggo
andthesecondbeforetheymakeimpact,therehastobealittlebitofremorseinthatbrieffreefall.Dotheylookatthegroundasitrushestowardthemandthink,“Well,crap.Thiswasabadidea.”
Somehow,Ithinknot.
Ithinkaboutdeathalot.Particularlytoday,consideringIjust—twelvehoursearlier—gaveoneofthemostepiceulogiesthepeopleofPlethora,Maine,haveeverwitnessed.Okay,
maybeitwasn’tthemostepic.Itverywellcouldbeconsideredthemostdisastrous.Iguessthatwoulddependonwhetheryouwereaskingmymotherorme.Mymother,who
probablywon’tspeaktomeforasolidyearaftertoday.
Don’tgetmewrong;theeulogyIdeliveredwasn’tprofoundenoughtomakehistory,liketheoneBrookeShieldsdeliveredatMichaelJackson’sfuneral.Ortheonedeliveredby
SteveJobs’ssister.OrPatTillman’sbrother.Butitwasepicinitsownway.
Iwasnervousatfirst.ItwasthefuneraloftheprodigiousAndrewBloom,afterall.AdoredmayorofmyhometownofPlethora,Maine.Ownerofthemostsuccessfulreal-estateagencywithincity
limits.HusbandofthehighlyadoredJennyBloom,themostreveredteachingassistantinallofPlethora.AndfatherofLilyBloom—thatstrangegirlwiththeerraticredhairwhooncefellin
lovewithahomelessguyandbroughtgreatshameuponherentirefamily.
Thatwouldbeme.I’mLilyBloom,andAndrewwasmyfather.
AssoonasIfinisheddeliveringhiseulogytoday,IcaughtaflightstraightbacktoBostonandhijackedthefirstroofIcouldfind.Again,notbecauseI’m
suicidal.Ihavenoplanstoscaleoffthisroof.Ijustreallyneededfreshairandsilence,anddammitifIcan’tgetthatfrommythirdfloorapartmentwithabsolutelynorooftop
accessandaroommatewholikestohearherselfsing.
Ididn’taccountforhowcolditwouldbeuphere,though.It’snotunbearable,butit’snotcomfortable,either.AtleastIcanseethestars.Deadfathersandexasperating
roommatesandquestionableeulogiesdon’tfeelsoawfulwhenthenightskyisclearenoughtoliterallyfeelthegrandeuroftheuniverse.
Iloveitwhentheskymakesmefeelinsignificant.
Iliketonight.
Well…letmerephrasethissothatitmoreappropriatelyreflectsmyfeelingsinpasttense.
Ilikedtonight.
Butunfortunatelyforme,thedoorwasjustshovedopensohard,Iexpectthestairwelltospitahumanoutontotherooftop.Thedoorslamsshutagainandfootstepsmoveswiftlyacrossthe
deck.Idon’tevenbotherlookingup.Whoeveritismorethanlikelywon’tevennoticemebackherestraddlingtheledgetotheleftofthedoor.Theycameouthereinsuchahurry,it
isn’tmyfaultiftheyassumethey’realone.
Isighquietly,closemyeyesandleanmyheadagainstthestuccowallbehindme,cursingtheuniverseforrippingthispeaceful,introspectivemomentoutfromunderme.Theleasttheuniverse
coulddoformetodayisensurethatit’sawomanandnotaman.IfI’mgoingtohavecompany,I’dratheritbeafemale.I’mtoughformysizeandcanprobablyholdmyown
inmostcases,butI’mtoocomfortablerightnowtobeonarooftopalonewithastrangemaninthemiddleofthenight.Imightfearformysafetyandfeeltheneedtoleave,andIreally
don’twanttoleave.AsIsaidbefore…I’mcomfortable.
Ifinallyallowmyeyestomakethejourneytothesilhouetteleaningovertheledge.Asluckwouldhaveit,he’sdefinitelymale.Evenleaningovertherail,Icantellhe’stall.
Broadshoulderscreateastrongcontrasttothefragilewayhe’sholdinghisheadinhishands.Icanbarelymakeouttheheavyriseandfallofhisbackashedragsindeepbreathsand
forcesthembackoutwhenhe’sdonewiththem.
Heappearstobeonthevergeofabreakdown.Icontemplatespeakinguptolethimknowhehascompany,orclearingmythroat,butbetweenthinkingitandactuallydoingit,hespinsaroundand
kicksoneofthepatiochairsbehindhim.
Iflinchasitscreechesacrossthedeck,butbeingasthoughheisn’tevenawarehehasanaudience,theguydoesn’tstopwithjustonekick.Hekicksthechairrepeatedly,overand
over.Ratherthangivewaybeneaththebluntforceofhisfoot,allthechairdoesisscootfartherandfartherawayfromhim.
Thatchairmustbemadefrommarine-gradepolymer.
Ioncewatchedmyfatherbackoveranoutdoorpatiotablemadeofmarine-gradepolymer,anditpracticallylaughedathim.Dentedhisbumper,butdidn’tevenputascratchonthe
table.
Thisguymustrealizehe’snomatchforsuchahigh-qualitymaterial,becausehefinallystopskickingthechair.He’snowstandingoverit,hishandsclenchedinfistsathissides.
Tobehonest,I’malittleenvious.Herethisguyis,takinghisaggressionoutonpatiofurniturelikeachamp.He’sobviouslyhadashittyday,ashaveI,butwhereasIkeepmy
aggressionpentupuntilitmanifestsintheformofpassive-aggressiveness,thisguyactuallyhasanoutlet.
Myoutletusedtobegardening.AnytimeIwasstressed,I’djustgoouttothebackyardandpulleverysingleweedIcouldfind.ButsincethedayImovedtoBostontwoyearsago,I
haven’thadabackyard.Orapatio.Idon’tevenhaveweeds.
MaybeIneedtoinvestinamarine-gradepolymerpatiochair.
Istareattheguyamomentlonger,wonderingifhe’severgoingtomove.He’sjuststandingthere,staringdownatthechair.Hishandsaren’tinfistsanymore.They’re
restingonhiships,andInoticeforthefirsttimehowhisshirtdoesn’tfithimverywellaroundhisbiceps.Itfitshimeverywhereelse,buthisarmsarehuge.Hebeginsfishingaroundin
hispocketsuntilhefindswhathe’slookingforand—inwhatI’msureisprobablyanefforttoreleaseevenmoreofhisaggression—helightsupajoint.
I’mtwenty-three,I’vebeenthroughcollegeandhavedonethisverysamerecreationaldrugatimeortwo.I’mnotgoingtojudgethisguyforfeelingtheneedtotokeupin
private.Butthat’sthething—he’snotinprivate.Hejustdoesn’tknowthatyet.
Hetakesinalongdragofhisjointandstartstoturnbacktowardtheledge.Henoticesmeontheexhale.Hestopswalkingthesecondoureyesmeet.Hisexpressionholdsnoshock,nordoesit
holdamusementwhenheseesme.He’sabouttenfeetaway,butthere’senoughlightfromthestarsthatIcanseehiseyesastheyslowlydragovermybodywithoutrevealingasingle
thought.Thisguyholdshiscardswell.Hisgazeisnarrowandhismouthisdrawntight,likeamaleversionoftheMonaLisa
“What’syourname?”heasks.
Ifeelhisvoiceinmystomach.That’snotgood.Voicesshouldstopattheears,butsometimes—notveryoftenatall,actually—avoicewillpenetratepastmyearsand
reverberatestraightdownthroughmybody.Hehasoneofthosevoices.Deep,confident,andalittlebitlikebutter.
WhenIdon’tanswerhim,hebringsthejointbacktohismouthandtakesanotherhit.
“Lily,”Ifinallysay.Ihatemyvoice.Itsoundstooweaktoevenreachhisearsfromhere,muchlessreverberateinsidehis
body.
Heliftshischinalittleandnudgeshisheadtowardme.“Willyoupleasegetdownfromthere,Lily?”
Itisn’tuntilhesaysthisthatInoticehisposture.He’sstandingstraightupnow,rigideven.Almostasifhe’snervousI’mgoingtofall.I’mnot.Thisledgeisatleastafootwide,andI’mmostlyontheroofside.IcouldeasilycatchmyselfbeforeIfell,nottomentionI’vegotthewindinmy
favor.
Iglancedownatmylegsandthenbackupathim.“No,thanks.I’mquitecomfortablewhereIam.”
Heturnsalittle,likehecan’tlookstraightatme.“Pleasegetdown.”It’smoreofademandnow,despitehisuseofthewordplease.
“Therearesevenemptychairsuphere.”
“Almostsix,”Icorrect,remindinghimthathejusttriedtomurderoneofthem.Hedoesn’tfindthehumorinmyresponse.WhenIfailtofollowhisorders,hetakesacouple
ofstepscloser.
“Youareamerethreeinchesfromfallingtoyourdeath.I’vebeenaroundenoughofthatforoneday.”Hemotionsformetogetdownagain.“You’remakingme
nervous.Nottomentionruiningmyhigh.”
Irollmyeyesandswingmylegsover.“Heavenforbidajointgotowaste.”Ihopdownandwipemyhandsacrossmyjeans.“Better?”IsayasIwalktowardhim.
Heletsoutarushofair,asifseeingmeontheledgeactuallyhadhimholdinghisbreath.Ipasshimtoheadforthesideoftheroofwiththebetterview,andasIdo,Ican’thelpbut
noticehowunfortunatelycuteheis.
No.Cuteisaninsult.
Thisguyisbeautiful.Well-manicured,smellslikemoney,lookstobeseveralyearsolderthanme.Hiseyescrinkleinthecornersastheyfollowme,andhislipsseem
tofrown,evenwhentheyaren’t.WhenIreachthesideofthebuildingthatoverlooksthestreet,Ileanforwardandstaredownatthecarsbelow,tryingnottoappearimpressedbyhim.Ican
tellbyhishaircutalonethathe’sthekindofmanpeopleareeasilyimpressedby,andIrefusetofeedintohisego.Notthathe’sdoneanythingtomakemethinkheevenhasone.ButheiswearingacasualBurberryshirt,andI’mnotsureI’veeverbeenontheradarofsomeonewhocouldcasuallyaffordone.
Ihearfootstepsapproachingfrombehind,andthenheleansagainsttherailingnexttome.Outofthecornerofmyeye,Iwatchashetakesanotherhitofhisjoint.Whenhe’sfinished,
heoffersittome,butIwaveitoff.ThelastthingIneedistobeundertheinfluencearoundthisguy.Hisvoiceisadruginitself.Ikindofwanttohearitagain,soIthrowaquestionin
hisdirection.
“Sowhatdidthatchairdotomakeyousoangry?”
Helooksatme.Likereallylooksatme.Hiseyesmeetmineandhejuststares,hard,likeallmysecretsarerightthereonmyface.I’veneverseeneyesasdark
ashis.MaybeIhave,buttheyseemdarkerwhenthey’reattachedtosuchanintimidatingpresence.Hedoesn’tanswermyquestion,butmycuriosityisn’teasilyputtorest.If
he’sgoingtoforcemedownfromaverypeaceful,comfortableledge,thenIexpecthimtoentertainmewithanswerstomynosyquestions.
“Wasitawoman?”Iinquire.“Didshebreakyourheart?”
Helaughsalittlewiththatquestion.“Ifonlymyissueswereastrivialasmattersoftheheart.”Heleansintothewallsothathecanfaceme.“Whatfloordoyoulive
on?”Helickshisfingersandpinchestheendofhisjoint,thenputsitbackinhispocket.“I’venevernoticedyoubefore.”
“That’sbecauseIdon’tlivehere.”Ipointinthedirectionofmyapartment.“Seethatinsurancebuilding?”
HesquintsashelooksinthedirectionI’mpointing.“Yeah.”
“Iliveinthebuildingnexttoit.It’stooshorttoseefromhere.It’sonlythreestoriestall.”
He’sfacingmeagain,restinghiselbowontheledge.“Ifyouliveoverthere,whyareyouhere?Yourboyfriendlivehereorsomething?”
Hiscommentsomehowmakesmefeelcheap.Itwastooeasy—anamateurishpickupline.Fromthelooksofthisguy,Iknowhehasbetterskillsthanthat.Itmakesmethinkhesavesthemore
difficultpickuplinesforthewomenhedeemsworthy.
“Youhaveaniceroof,”Itellhim
Heliftsaneyebrow,waitingformoreofanexplanation.
“Iwantedfreshair.Somewheretothink.IpulledupGoogleEarthandfoundtheclosestapartmentcomplexwithadecentrooftoppatio.”
Heregardsmewithasmile.“Atleastyou’reeconomical,”hesays.“That’sagoodqualitytohave.”
Atleast?
Inod,becauseIameconomical.Anditisagoodqualitytohave.
“Whydidyouneedfreshair?”heasks.
BecauseIburiedmyfathertodayandgaveanepicallydisastrouseulogyandnowIfeellikeIcan’tbreathe.
Ifaceforwardagainandslowlyexhale.“Canwejustnottalkforalittlewhile?”
HeseemsabitrelievedthatIaskedforsilence.Heleansovertheledgeandletsanarmdangleashestaresdownatthestreet.Hestayslikethisforawhile,andIstareathimtheentire
time.HeprobablyknowsI’mstaring,buthedoesn’tseemtocare.
“Aguyfelloffthisrooflastmonth,”hesays.
Iwouldbeannoyedathislackofrespectformyrequestforsilence,butI’mkindofintrigued.
“Wasitanaccident?”
Heshrugs.“Nooneknows.Ithappenedlateintheevening.Hiswifesaidshewascookingdinnerandhetoldherhewascomingupheretotakesomepicturesofthesunset.Hewasa
photographer.Theythinkhewasleaningovertheledgetogetashotoftheskyline,andheslipped.”
Ilookovertheledge,wonderinghowsomeonecouldpossiblyputthemselvesinasituationwheretheycouldfallbyaccident.ButthenIrememberIwasjuststraddlingtheledgeontheotherside
oftheroofafewminutesago.
“Whenmysistertoldmewhathappened,theonlythingIcouldthinkaboutwaswhetherornothegottheshot.Iwashopinghiscameradidn’tfallwithhim,becausethatwouldhave
beenarealwaste,youknow?Todiebecauseofyourloveofphotography,butyoudidn’tevengetthefinalshotthatcostyouyourlife?”
Histhoughtmakesmelaugh.AlthoughI’mnotsureIshouldhavelaughedatthat.“Doyoualwayssayexactlywhat’sonyourmind?”
Heshrugs.“Nottomostpeople.”
Thismakesmesmile.Ilikethathedoesn’tevenknowme,butforwhateverreason,I’mnotconsideredmostpeopletohim.
Herestshisbackagainsttheledgeandfoldshisarmsoverhischest.“Wereyoubornhere?”
Ishakemyhead.“No.MovedherefromMaineafterIgraduatedcollege.”
Hescrunchesuphisnose,andit’skindofhot.Watchingthisguy—dressedinhisBurberryshirtwithhistwo-hundred-dollarhaircut—makingsillyfaces
“Soyou’reinBostonpurgatory,huh?That’sgottasuck.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Iaskhim.
Thecornerofhismouthcurlsup.“Thetouriststreatyoulikealocal;thelocalstreatyoulikeatourist.”
Ilaugh.“Wow.That’saveryaccuratedescription.”
“I’vebeenheretwomonths.I’mnoteveninpurgatoryyet,soyou’redoingbetterthanIam.”
“WhatbroughtyoutoBoston?”
“Myresidency.Andmysisterliveshere.”Hetapshisfootandsays,“Rightbeneathus,actually.Marriedatech-savvyBostonianandtheyboughttheentiretop
floor.”
Ilookdown.“Theentiretopfloor?”
Henods.“Luckybastardworksfromhome.Doesn’tevenhavetochangeoutofhispajamasandmakessevenfiguresayear.”
Luckybastard,indeed.
“Whatkindofresidency?Areyouadoctor?”
Henods.“Neurosurgeon.Lessthanayearleftofmyresidencyandthenit’sofficial.”
Stylish,wellspoken,andsmart.Andsmokespot.IfthiswereanSATquestion,Iwouldaskwhichonedidn’tbelong.“Should
doctorsbesmokingweed?”
Hesmirks.“Probablynot.Butifwedidn’tindulgeonoccasion,therewouldbealotmoreofustakingtheleapovertheseledges,Icanpromiseyouthat.”He’sfacing
forwardagainwithhischinrestingonhisarms.Hiseyesareclosednow,likehe’senjoyingthewindagainsthisface.Hedoesn’tlookasintimidatinglikethis.
“Youwanttoknowsomethingthatonlythelocalsknow?”
“Ofcourse,”hesays,bringinghisattentionbacktome.
Ipointtotheeast.“Seethatbuilding?Theonewiththegreenroof?”
Henods.
“There’sabuildingbehinditonMelcher.There’sahouseontopofthebuilding.Likealegithouse,builtrightontherooftop.Youcan’tseeitfromthestreet,and
thebuildingissotallthatnotmanypeopleevenknowaboutit.”
Helooksimpressed.“Really?”
Inod.“IsawitwhenIwassearchingGoogleEarth,soIlookeditup.Apparentlyapermitwasgrantedfortheconstructionin1982.Howcoolwouldthatbe?Toliveinahouseontopofa
building?”
“You’dgetthewholerooftoyourself,”hesays.
Ihadn’tthoughtofthat.IfIowneditIcouldplantgardensupthere.I’dhaveanoutlet.
“Wholivesthere?”heasks.
“Noonereallyknows.It’soneofthegreatmysteriesofBoston.”
Helaughsandthenlooksatmeinquisitively.“What’sanothergreatmysteryofBoston?”
“Yourname.”AssoonasIsayit,Islapmyhandagainstmyforehead.Itsoundedsomuchlikeacheesypickupline;theonlythingIcandoislaughatmyself.
Hesmiles.“It’sRyle,”hesays.“RyleKincaid.”
Isigh,sinkingintomyself.“That’sareallygreatname.”
“Whydoyousoundsadaboutit?”
“Because,I’dgiveanythingforagreatname.”
“Youdon’tlikethenameLily?”
Itiltmyheadandcockaneyebrow.“Mylastname…isBloom.”
He’squiet.Icanfeelhimtryingtoholdbackhispity.
“Iknow.It’sawful.It’sthenameofatwo-year-oldlittlegirl,notatwenty-three-year-oldwoman.”
“Atwo-year-oldgirlwillhavethesamenamenomatterhowoldshegets.Namesaren’tsomethingweeventuallygrowoutof,LilyBloom.”
“Unfortunatelyforme,”Isay.“ButwhatmakesitevenworseisthatIabsolutelylovegardening.Iloveflowers.Plants.Growingthings.It’smypassion.It’s
alwaysbeenmydreamtoopenafloristshop,butI’mafraidifIdid,peoplewouldn’tthinkmydesirewasauthentic.TheywouldthinkIwastryingtocapitalizeoffmynameandthat
beingafloristisn’treallymydreamjob.”
“Maybeso,”hesays.“Butwhat’sthatmatter?”
“Itdoesn’t,Isuppose.”Icatchmyselfwhispering,“LilyBloom’s”quietly.Icanseehimsmilingalittlebit.“Itreallyis
agreatnameforaflorist.ButIhaveamaster’sdegreeinbusiness.I’dbedowngrading,don’tyouthink?IworkforthebiggestmarketingfirminBoston.”
“Owningyourownbusinessisn’tdowngrading,”hesays.
Iraiseaneyebrow.“Unlessitflops.”
Henodsinagreement.“Unlessitflops,”hesays.“Sowhat’syourmiddlename,LilyBloom?”
Igroan,whichmakeshimperkup.
“Youmeanitgetsworse?”
Idropmyheadinmyhandsandnod.
“Rose?”
Ishakemyhead.“Worse.”
“Violet?”
“Iwish.”Icringeandthenmutter,“Blossom.”
There’samomentofsilence.“Goddamn,”hesayssoftly.
“Yeah.Blossomismymother’smaidennameandmyparentsthoughtitwasfatethattheirlastnamesweresynonyms.Soofcoursewhentheyhadme,aflowerwastheirfirst
choice.”
“Yourparentsmustberealassholes.”
Oneofthemis.Was.“Myfatherdiedthisweek.”
Heglancesatme.“Nicetry.I’mnotfallingforthat.”
“I’mserious.That’swhyIcameupheretonight.IthinkIjustneededagoodcry.”
HestaresatmesuspiciouslyforamomenttomakesureI’mnotpullinghisleg.Hedoesn’tapologizefortheblunder.Instead,hiseyesgrowalittlemorecurious,likehisintrigue
isactuallyauthentic.“Wereyouclose?”
That’sahardquestion.Irestmychinonmyarmsandlookdownatthestreetagain.“Idon’tknow,”Isaywithashrug.“Ashisdaughter,
Ilovedhim.Butasahuman,Ihatedhim.”
Icanfeelhimwatchingmeforamoment,andthenhesays,“Ilikethat.Yourhonesty.”
Helikesmyhonesty.IthinkImightbeblushing.
We’rebothquietagainforawhile,andthenhesays,“Doyoueverwishpeopleweremoretransparent?”
“Howso?”
Hepicksatapieceofchippedstuccowithhisthumbuntilitbreaksloose.Heflicksitovertheledge.“Ifeellikeeveryonefakeswhotheyreallyare,whendeepdownwe’reall
equalamountsofscrewedup.Someofusarejustbetterathidingitthanothers.”
Eitherhishighissettingin,orhe’sjustveryintrospective.Eitherway,I’mokaywithit.Myfavoriteconversationsaretheoneswithnorealanswers.
“Idon’tthinkbeingalittleguardedisanegativething,”Isay.“Nakedtruthsaren’talwayspretty.”
Hestaresatmeforamoment.“Nakedtruths,”herepeats.“Ilikethat.”Heturnsaroundandwalkstothemiddleoftherooftop.Headjuststhe
backononeofthepatioloungersbehindmeandlowershimselfontoit.It’sthekindyoulieon,sohepullshishandsbehindhisheadandlooksupatthesky.Iclaimtheonenexttohim
andadjustituntilI’minthesamepositionashim.
“Tellmeanakedtruth,Lily.”
“Pertainingtowhat?”
Heshrugs.“Idon’tknow.Somethingyouaren’tproudof.Somethingthatwillmakemefeelalittlelessscrewedupontheinside.”
He’sstaringupatthesky,waitingonmetoanswer.Myeyesfollowthelineofhisjaw,thecurveofhischeeks,theoutlineofhislips.Hiseyebrowsaredrawntogetherincontemplation.
Idon’tunderstandwhy,butheseemstoneedconversationrightnow.Ithinkabouthisquestionandtrytofindanhonestanswer.WhenIcomeupwithone,Ilookawayfromhimandbackupto
thesky.
“Myfatherwasabusive.Nottome—tomymother.Hewouldgetsoangrywhentheyfoughtthatsometimeshewouldhither.Whenthathappened,hewouldspendthenextweekortwomaking
upforit.Hewoulddothingslikebuyherflowersortakeusouttoanicedinner.SometimeshewouldbuymestuffbecauseheknewIhateditwhentheyfought.WhenIwasakid,Ifoundmyself
lookingforwardtothenightstheywouldfight.BecauseIknewifhehither,thetwoweeksthatfollowedwouldbegreat.”Ipause.I’mnotsureI’veeveradmittedthattomyself.
“OfcourseifIcould,Iwouldhavemadeittowherehenevertouchedher.Buttheabusewasinevitablewiththeirmarriage,anditbecameournorm.WhenIgotolder,Irealizedthatnot
doingsomethingaboutitmademejustasguilty.Ispentmostofmylifehatinghimforbeingsuchabadperson,butI’mnotsosureI’mmuchbetter.Maybewe’rebothbad
people.”
Rylelooksoveratmewithathoughtfulexpression.“Lily,”hesayspointedly.“Thereisnosuchthingasbadpeople.We’realljustpeoplewho
sometimesdobadthings.”
Iopenmymouthtorespond,buthiswordsstrikemesilent.We’realljustpeoplewhosometimesdobadthings.Iguessthat’strueinaway.Nooneis
exclusivelybad,norisanyoneexclusivelygood.Somearejustforcedtoworkharderatsuppressingthebad.
“Yourturn,”Itellhim.
Basedonhisreaction,Ithinkhemightnotwanttoplayhisowngame.Hesighsheavilyandrunsahandthroughhishair.Heopenshismouthtospeak,butthenclampsitshutagain.Hethinks
forabit,andthenfinallyspeaks.“Iwatchedalittleboydietonight.”Hisvoiceisdespondent.“Hewasonlyfiveyearsold.Heandhislittlebrotherfoundaguninhis
parents’bedroom.Theyoungerbrotherwasholdingitanditwentoffbyaccident.”
Mystomachflips.Ithinkthismaybealittletoomuchtruthforme.
“Therewasnothingthatcouldbedonebythetimehemadeittotheoperatingtable.Everyonearound—nurses,otherdoctors—theyallfeltsosorryforthefamily.
‘Thosepoorparents,’theysaid.ButwhenIhadtowalkintothewaitingroomandtellthoseparentsthattheirchilddidn’tmakeit,Ididn’tfeel
anounceofsorrowforthem.Iwantedthemtosuffer.Iwantedthemtofeeltheweightoftheirignoranceforkeepingaloadedgunwithinaccessoftwoinnocentchildren.Iwantedthemtoknowthat
notonlydidtheyjustloseachild,theyjustruinedtheentirelifeoftheonewhoaccidentallypulledthetrigger.”
JesusChrist.Iwasn’tpreparedforsomethingsoheavy.
Ican’tevenconceivehowafamilymovespastthat.“Thatpoorboy’sbrother,”Isay.“Ican’timaginewhatthat’sgoingtodotohim—seeing
somethinglikethat.”
Ryleflickssomethingoffthekneeofhisjeans.“It’lldestroyhimforlife,that’swhatit’lldo.”
Iturnonmysidetofacehim,liftingmyheadupontomyhand.“Isithard?Seeingthingslikethateveryday?”
Hegiveshisheadaslightshake.“Itshouldbealotharder,butthemoreI’marounddeath,themoreitjustbecomesapartoflife.I’mnotsurehowIfeelaboutthat.”
Hemakeseyecontactwithmeagain.“Givemeanotherone,”hesays.“Ifeellikeminewasalittlemoretwistedthanyours.”
Idisagree,butItellhimaboutthetwistedthingIdidameretwelvehoursago.
“MymotheraskedmetwodaysagoifIwoulddelivertheeulogyatmyfather’sfuneraltoday.ItoldherIdidn’tfeelcomfortable—thatImightbecryingtoohardtospeak
infrontofacrowd—butthatwasalie.Ijustdidn’twanttodoitbecauseIfeellikeeulogiesshouldbedeliveredbythosewhorespectedthedeceased.AndIdidn’tmuchrespect
myfather.”
“Didyoudoit?”
Inod.“Yeah.Thismorning.”IsitupandpullmylegsbeneathmeasIfacehim.“Youwanttohearit?”
Hesmiles.“Absolutely.”
Ifoldmyhandsinmylapandinhaleabreath.“Ihadnoideawhattosay.Aboutanhourbeforethefuneral,ItoldmymotherIdidn’twanttodoit.Shesaiditwassimpleandthat
myfatherwouldhavewantedmetodoit.ShesaidallIhadtodowaswalkuptothepodiumandsayfivegreatthingsaboutmyfather.So…that’sexactlywhatIdid.”
Ryleliftsupontohiselbow,appearingevenmoreinterested.Hecantellbythelookonmyfacethatitgetsworse.“Oh,no,Lily.Whatdidyoudo?”
“Here.Letmejustreenactitforyou.”Istandupandwalkaroundtotheothersideofmychair.IstandtallandactlikeI’mlookingoutoverthesamecrowdedroomIwasmet
withthismorning.Iclearmythroat.
“Hello.MynameisLilyBloom,daughterofthelateAndrewBloom.Thankyouallforjoiningustodayaswemournhisloss.Iwantedtotakeamomenttohonorhislifebysharingwithyou
fivegreatthingsaboutmyfather.Thefirstthing…”
IlookdownatRyleandshrug.“That’sit.”
Hesitsup.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Itakeaseatonmyloungechairandliebackdown.“Istooduptherefortwosolidminuteswithoutsayinganotherword.Therewasn’tonegreatthingIcouldsayaboutthat
man—soIjuststaredsilentlyatthecrowduntilmymotherrealizedwhatIwasdoingandhadmyuncleremovemefromthepodium.”
Ryletiltshishead.“Areyoukiddingme?Yougavetheanti-eulogyatyourownfather’sfuneral?”
Inod.“I’mnotproudofit.Idon’tthink.Imean,ifIhadmyway,hewouldhavebeenamuchbetterpersonandIwouldhavestoodupthereand
talkedforanhour.”
Ryleliesbackdown.“Wow,”hesays,shakinghishead.“You’rekindofmyhero.Youjustroastedadeadguy.”
“That’stacky.”
“Yeah,well.Nakedtruthhurts.”
Ilaugh.“Yourturn.”
“Ican’ttopthat,”hesays.
“I’msureyoucancomeclose.”
“I’mnotsureIcan.”
Irollmyeyes.“Yesyoucan.Don’tmakemefeelliketheworstpersonoutofthetwoofus.Tellmethemostrecentthoughtyou’vehadthatmostpeoplewouldn’tsayout
loud.”
Hepullshishandsupbehindhisheadandlooksmestraightintheeye.“Iwanttofuckyou.”
Mymouthfallsopen.ThenIclampitshutagain.
IthinkImightbespeechless.
Heshootsmealookofinnocence.“Youaskedforthemostrecentthought,soIgaveittoyou.You’rebeautiful.I’maguy.Ifyouwereintoone-nightstands,Iwouldtakeyou
downstairstomybedroomandIwouldfuckyou.”
Ican’tevenlookathim.Hisstatementmakesmefeelamultitudeofthingsallatonce.
“Well,I’mnotintoone-nightstands.”
“Ifiguredasmuch,”hesays.“Yourturn.”
He’ssononchalant;heactsasifhedidn’tjuststunmeintosilence.
“Ineedaminutetoregroupafterthatone,”Isaywithalaugh.Itrytothinkofsomethingwithalittleshockvalue,butIcan’tgetoverthefactthathejustsaidthat.
Outloud.Maybebecausehe’saneurosurgeonandIneverpicturedsomeonesoeducatedthrowingaroundthewordfucksocasually.
Igathermyself…somewhat…andthensay,“Okay.Sincewe’reonthesubject…thefirstguyIeverhadsexwithwashomeless.”
Heperksupandfacesme.“Oh,I’mgonnaneedmoreofthisstory.”
Istretchmyarmoutandrestmyheadonit.“IgrewupinMaine.Welivedinafairlydecentneighborhood,butthestreetbehindourhousewasn’tinthebestcondition.Ourbackyard
butteduptoacondemnedhouseadjacenttotwoabandonedlots.IbecamefriendswithaguynamedAtlaswhostayedinthecondemnedhouse.Nooneknewhewaslivingthereotherthanme.Iusedto
takehimfoodandclothesandstuff.Untilmyfatherfoundout.”
“What’dhedo?”
Myjawtightens.Idon’tknowwhyIbroughtthisupwhenIstillforcemyselfnottothinkaboutitonadailybasis.“Hebeathimup.”That’sasnakedasIwanttoget
aboutthatsubject.“Yourturn.”
Heregardsmesilentlyforamoment,asifheknowsthere’smoretothatstory.Butthenhebreakseyecontact.“Thethoughtofmarriagerepulsesme,”hesays.“I’m
almostthirtyyearsoldandIhavenodesireforawife.Iespeciallydon’twantchildren.TheonlythingIwantoutoflifeissuccess.Lotsofit.ButifIadmit
thatoutloudtoanyone,itmakesmesoundarrogant.”
“Professionalsuccess?Orsocialstatus?”
Hesays,“Both.Anyonecanhavechildren.Anyonecangetmarried.Butnoteveryonecanbeaneurosurgeon.Igetalotofprideoutofthat.AndIdon’tjustwanttobeagreat
neurosurgeon.Iwanttobethebestinmyfield.”
“You’reright.Itdoesmakeyousoundarrogant.”
Hesmiles.“MymotherfearsI’mwastingmylifeawaybecauseallIdoiswork.”
“You’reaneurosurgeonandyourmotherisdisappointedinyou?”Ilaugh.“Goodlord,that’sinsane.Areparentseverreallyhappywith
theirchildren?Willtheyeverbegoodenough?”
Heshakeshishead.“Mychildrenwouldn’tbe.NotmanypeoplehavethedriveIdo,soI’donlybesettingthemupforfailure.That’swhyI’llneverhave
any.”
“Iactuallythinkthat’srespectable,Ryle.Alotofpeoplerefusetoadmittheymightbetooselfishtohavechildren.”
Heshakeshishead.“Oh,I’mwaytooselfishtohavechildren.AndI’mdefinitelywaytooselfishtobeinarelationship.”
“Sohowdoyouavoidit?Youjustdon’tdate?”
Hecutshiseyestome,andthere’saslightgrinaffixedtohisface.“WhenIhavetime,therearegirlswhosatisfythoseneeds.Idon’tlackforanythinginthatdepartment,
ifthat’swhatyou’reasking.Butlovehasneverappealedtome.It’salwaysbeenmoreofaburdenthananything.”
IwishIlookedatlovelikethat.Itwouldmakemylifeahellofaloteasier.“Ienvyyou.Ihavethisideathatthere’saperfectmanoutthereforme.Itendtobecomejaded
easily,becausenooneevermeetsmystandards.IfeellikeI’monaninfinitesearchfortheHolyGrail.”
“Youshouldtrymymethod,”hesays.
“Whichis?”
“One-nightstands.”Heraisesaneyebrow,likeit’saninvitation.
I’mgladit’sdark,becausemyfaceisonfire.“IcouldneversleepwithsomeoneifIdidn’tseeitgoinganywhere.”Isaythisoutloud,butmywordslack
convictionwhenIsayittohim.
Hedragsinalong,slowbreath,andthenrollsontohisback.“Notthatkindofgirl,huh?”Hesaysthiswithatraceofdisappointmentinhisvoice.
Imatchhisdisappointment.I’mnotsureI’devenwanttoturnhimdownifhemadeamove,butImighthavejustthwartedthatpossibility.
“Ifyouwouldn’tsleepwithsomeoneyoujustmet…”Hiseyesmeetmineagain.“Exactlyhowfarwouldyougo?”
Idon’thaveananswerforthat.Irollontomybackbecausethewayhe’slookingatmemakesmewanttorethinkone-nightstands.I’mnotnecessarilyagainstthem,Isuppose.
I’vejustneverbeenpropositionedforonebysomeoneIwouldconsideritwith.
Untilnow.Ithink.Isheevenpropositioningme?I’vealwaysbeenterribleatflirting.
Hereachesoutandgrabstheedgeofmyloungechair.Inoneswiftmovementandwithveryminimaleffort,hedragsmychairclosertohimuntilitbumpshis.
Mywholebodystiffens.He’ssoclosenow,Icanfeelthewarmthofhisbreathcuttingthroughthecoldair.IfIweretolookathim,hisfacewouldbemereinchesfrommine.Irefuseto
lookathim,becausehe’dprobablykissmeandIknowabsolutelynothingaboutthisguy,otherthanacoupleofnakedtruths.Butthatdoesn’tweighonmyconscienceatallwhenhe
restsaheavyhandonmystomach.
“Howfarwouldyougo,Lily?”Hisvoiceisdecadent.Smooth.Ittravelsstraighttomytoes.“Idon’tknow,”Iwhisper.
Hisfingersbegintocrawltowardthehemofmyshirt.Hebeginstoslowlyinchitupwarduntilaslitherofmystomachisshowing.“Oh,Jesus,”Iwhisper,
feelingthewarmthfromhishandasheslidesitupmystomach
Againstmybetterjudgment,Ifacehimagainandthelookinhiseyescompletelycaptivatesme.Helookshopefulandhungryandcompletelyconfident.Hesinkshisteethintohisbottomlipas
hishandbeginstoteaseitswayupmyshirt.Iknowhecanfeelmyheartthrashingaroundinmychest.Hell,hecanprobablyhearit.
“Isthistoofar?”heasks.
Idon’tknowwherethissideofmeiscomingfrom,butIshakemyheadandsay,“Notevenclose.”
Withagrin,hisfingersbrushtheunderneathofmybra,lightlytricklingovermyskinthatisnowcoveredinchills.Assoonasmyeyelidsfallshut,thepiercingofaringripsthroughthe
air.Hishandstiffenswhenwebothrealizeit’saphone.Hisphone.
Hedropshisforeheadtomyshoulder.“Dammit.”
Ifrownwhenhishandslipsoutfrombeneathmyshirt.Hefumblesinhispocketforhisphone,standingupandwalkingseveralfeetawayfrommetotakethecall.
“Dr.Kincaid,”hesays.Helistensintently,hishandgrippingthebackofhisneck.“WhataboutRoberts?I’mnotevensupposedtobeoncallrightnow.”More
silenceisfollowedwith,“Yeah,givemetenminutes.Onmyway.”
Heendsthecallandslideshisphonebackinhispocket.Whenheturnstofaceme,helooksalittledisappointed.Hepointstothedoorthatleadstothestairwell.“Ihaveto..
.”
Inod.“It’sfine.”
Heconsidersmeforamoment,andthenholdsupafinger.“Don’tmove,”hesays,reachingforhisphoneagain.Hewalkscloserandholdsitupasifhe’sabouttosnapa
pictureofme.Ialmostobject,butIdon’tevenknowwhy.I’mfullyclothed.Itjustdoesn’tfeelthatwayforsomereason.
Hesnapsapictureofmelyingintheloungechair,myarmsrelaxedabovemyhead.Ihavenoideawhatheplanstodowiththatpicture,butIlikethathetookit.Ilikethathehadtheurge
torememberwhatIlooklike,eventhoughheknowshe’llneverseemeagain
Hestaresatthephotoonhisscreenforafewsecondsandsmiles.I’mhalf-temptedtotakeapictureofhiminreturn,butI’mnotsureIwantareminderofsomeoneI’llnever
seeagain.Thethoughtofthatisalittledepressing.
“Itwasnicemeetingyou,LilyBloom.Ihopeyoudefytheoddsofmostdreamsandactuallyaccomplishyours.”
Ismile,equallysaddenedandconfusedbythisguy.I’mnotsurethatI’veeverspenttimewithsomeonelikehimbefore—someoneofacompletelydifferentlifestyleandtax
bracket.Iprobablyneverwillagain.ButI’mpleasantlysurprisedtoseethatwearen’tallthatdifferent.
Misconceptionconfirmed.
Helooksdownathisfeetforamomentashestandsinsomewhatofanunsurepose.It’sasifhe’ssuspendedbetweenthedesiretosaysomethingelsetomeandtheneedtoleave.He
glancesatmeonelasttime—thistimewithoutsomuchofapokerface.Icanseethedisappointmentinthesetofhismouthbeforeheturnsandwalksintheotherdirection.Heopensthedoor
andIcanhearhisfootstepsfadeasherushesdownthestairwell.I’maloneontherooftoponceagain,buttomysurprise,I’malittlesaddenedbythatnow.ChapterTwo
Lucy—theroommatewholovestohearherselfsing—isrushingaroundthelivingroom,gatheringkeys,shoes,apairofsunglasses.I’m
seatedonthecouch,openingupshoeboxesstuffedwithsomeofmyoldthingsfromwhenIlivedathome.IgrabbedthemwhenIwashomeformyfather’sfuneralthisweek.
“Youworktoday?”Lucyasks.
“Nope.IhavebereavementleaveuntilMonday.”
Shestopsinhertracks.“Monday?”Shescoffs.“Luckybitch.”
“Yes,Lucy.I’msoluckymyfatherdied.”Isayitsarcastically,ofcourse,butIcringewhenIrealizeit’snotactuallyverysarcastic.
“YouknowwhatImean,”shemutters.Shegrabsherpurseasshebalancesononefootwhileslidinghershoeontotheother.“I’mnotcominghometonight.Stayingoverat
Alex’shouse.”Thedoorslamsbehindher.
Wehavealotincommononthesurface,butbeyondwearingthesamesizeclothes,beingthesameage,andbothhavingfour-letternamesthatstartwithanLandend
withaY,there’snotmuchelsetherethatmakesusmorethanjustroommates.I’mokaywiththat,though.Otherthantheincessantsinging,she’spretty
tolerable.She’scleanandshe’sgonealot.Twoofthemostimportantqualitiesinaroommate.
I’mpullingthelidoffthetopofoneoftheshoeboxeswhenmycellphonerings.Ireachacrossthecouchandgrabit.WhenIseethatit’smymother,Ipressmyfaceintothecouch
andfake-cryintoathrowpillow.
Ibringthephonetomyear.“Hello?”
There’sthreesecondsofsilence,andthen—“Hello,Lily.”
Isighandsitbackuponthecouch.“Hey,Mom.”I’mreallysurprisedshe’sspeakingtome.It’sonlybeenonedaysincethefuneral.That’s364dayssooner
thanIexpectedtohearfromher.
“Howareyou?”Iask.
Shesighsdramatically.“Fine,”shesays.“YourauntandunclewentbacktoNebraskathismorning.It’llbemyfirstnightalonesince…”
“You’llbefine,Mom,”Isay,tryingtosoundconfident.
She’squietfortoolong,andthenshesays,“Lily.Ijustwantyoutoknowthatyoushouldn’tbeembarrassedaboutwhathappenedyesterday.”
Ipause.Iwasn’t.Noteventheslightestbit.
“Everyonefreezesuponceinawhile.Ishouldn’thaveputthatkindofpressureonyou,knowinghowhardthedaywasonyoualready.Ishouldhavejusthadyouruncledo
it.”
Iclosemyeyes.Hereshegoesagain.Coveringupwhatshedoesn’twanttosee.Takingblamethatisn’tevenherstotake.Of
coursesheconvincedherselfthatIfrozeupyesterday,andthat’swhyIrefusedtospeak.Ofcourseshedid.Ihavehalfamindtotellheritwasn’ta
mistake.Ididn’tfreezeup.Ijusthadnothinggreattosayabouttheunremarkablemanshechosetobemyfather.
ButpartofmedoesfeelguiltyforwhatIdid—specificallybecauseit’snotsomethingIshouldhavedoneinthepresenceofmymother—soIjustacceptwhatshe’sdoing
andgoalongwithit.
“Thanks,Mom.SorryIchoked.”
“It’sfine,Lily.Ineedtogo,Ihavetoruntotheinsuranceoffice.Wehaveameetingaboutyourfather’spolicies.Callmetomorrow,okay?”
“Iwill,”Itellher.“Loveyou,Mom.”
Iendthecallandtossthephoneacrossthecouch.Iopentheshoeboxonmylapandpulloutthecontents.Ontheverytopisasmallwooden,hollowheart.Irunmyfingersoveritandremember
thenightIwasgiventhisheart.Assoonasthememorybeginstosinkin,Isetitaside.Nostalgiaisafunnything.
Imoveafewoldlettersandnewspaperclippingsaside.Beneathallofit,IfindwhatIwashopingwasinsidetheseboxes.Andalsosortofhopingwasn’t
MyEllenDiaries.
Irunmyhandsoverthem.Therearethreeoftheminthisbox,butI’dsaythereareprobablyeightorninetotal.Ihaven’treadanyofthesesincethelasttimeIwrotein
them.
IrefusedtoadmitthatIkeptadiarywhenIwasyoungerbecausethatwassocliché.Instead,IconvincedmyselfthatwhatIwasdoingwascool,becauseitwasn’ttechnicallya
diary.IaddressedeachofmyentriestoEllenDeGeneres,becauseIbeganwatchinghershowthefirstdayitairedin2003whenIwasjustalittlegirl.Iwatchediteverydayafterschoolandwas
convincedEllenwouldlovemeifshegottoknowme.IwroteletterstoherregularlyuntilIturnedsixteen,butIwrotethemlikeonewouldwriteentriesinadiary.OfcourseIknewthelast
thingEllenDeGeneresprobablywantedwasarandomgirl’sjournalentries.Luckily,Ineveractuallysentanyin.ButIstilllikedaddressingalltheentriestoher,soIcontinuedtodo
thatuntilIstoppedwritinginthemaltogether.
Iopenanothershoeboxandfindmoreofthem.IsortthroughthemuntilIgrabtheonefromwhenIwasfifteenyearsold.Iflipitopen,searchingforthedayImetAtlas.Therewasn’t
muchthathappenedinmylifeworthwritingaboutbeforeheenteredit,butsomehowIfilledsixjournalsfullbeforeheevercameintothepicture.
IsworeI’dneverreadtheseagain,butwiththepassingofmyfather,I’vebeenthinkingaboutmychildhoodalot.MaybeifIreadthroughthesejournalsI’llsomehowfinda
littlestrengthforforgiveness.AlthoughIfearI’mrunningtheriskofbuildingupevenmoreresentment.
IliebackonthecouchandIbeginreading.
DearEllen,
BeforeItellyouwhathappenedtoday,Ihaveareallygoodideaforanewsegmentonyourshow.It’scalled,“Ellenathome.”
Ithinklotsofpeoplewouldliketoseeyououtsideofwork.Ialwayswonderwhatyou’relikeatyourhomewhenit’sjustyouandPortiaandthecameras
aren’taround.Maybetheproducerscangiveheracameraandsometimesshecanjustsneakuponyouandfilmyoudoingnormalthings,likewatchingTVorcookingorgardening.Shecouldfilm
youforafewsecondswithoutyouknowingandthenshecouldscream,“Ellenathome!”andscareyou.It’sonlyfair,sinceyoulovepranks.
Okay,nowthatItoldyouthat(Ikeepmeaningtoandhavebeenforgetting)I’lltellyouaboutmydayyesterday.Itwasinteresting.Probablymymostinterestingdayto
writeaboutyet,ifyoudon’tcountthedayAbigailIvoryslappedMr.Carsonforlookingathercleavage.
YourememberawhilebackwhenItoldyouaboutMrs.Burlesonwholivedbehindus?Shediedthenightofthatbigsnowstorm?Mydadsaidsheowedsomuchintaxesthather
daughterwasn’tabletotakeownershipofthehouse.Whichisfinebyher,I’msure,becausethehousewasstartingtofallapartanyway.Itprobablywouldhavebeenmoreofaburden
thananything.
ThehousehasbeenemptysinceMrs.Burlesondied,whichhasbeenabouttwoyears.Iknowit’sbeenemptybecausemybedroomwindowlooksoutoverthebackyard,and
therehasn’tbeenasinglesoulthatgoesinoroutofthathousesinceIcanremember.
Untillastnight.
Iwasinbedshufflingcards.Iknowthatsoundsweird,butit’sjustsomethingIdo.Idon’tevenknowhowtoplaycards.Butwhenmyparentsgetintofights,
shufflingcardsjustcalmsmedownsometimesandgivesmesomethingtofocuson.
Anyway,itwasdarkoutside,soInoticedthelightrightaway.Itwasn’tbright,butitwascomingfromthatoldhouse.Itlookedmorelikecandlelightthananything,
soIwenttothebackporchandfoundDad’sbinoculars.Itriedtoseewhatwasgoingonoverthere,butIcouldn’tseeanything.Itwaswaytoodark.Thenafteralittlewhile,the
lightwentout.
Thismorning,whenIwasgettingreadyforschool,Isawsomethingmovingbehindthathouse.Icroucheddownatmybedroomwindowandsawsomeonesneakingoutthebackdoor.
Itwasaguyandhehadabackpack.Helookedaroundlikehewasmakingsurenoonesawhim,andthenhewalkedbetweenourhouseandtheneighbor’shouseandwentandstoodatthebus
stop.
I’dneverseenhimbefore.Itwasthefirsttimeherodemybus.HesatinthebackandIsatinthemiddle,soIdidn’ttalktohim.Butwhenhegotoffthebus
atschool,Isawhimwalkintotheschool,sohemustgothere.
Ihavenoideawhyhewassleepinginthathouse.There’sprobablynoelectricityorrunningwater.Ithoughtmaybehediditasadare,buttodayhegotoffthebusat
thesamestopasme.Hewalkeddownthestreetlikehewasgoingsomewhereelse,butIranstraighttomyroomandwatchedoutthewindow.Sureenough,afewminuteslater,Isawhimsneakingback
insidethatemptyhouse.
Idon’tknowifIshouldsaysomethingtomymother.Ihatetobenosy,becauseit’snoneofmybusiness.Butifthatguydoesn’thaveanywheretogo,Ifeel
likemymotherwouldknowhowtohelphimsincesheworksataschool
Idon’tknow.ImightwaitacoupledaysbeforeIsaysomethingandseeifhegoesbackhome.Hemightjustneedabreakfromhisparents.SameasIwishIcouldhave
sometimes.
That’sall.I’llletyouknowwhathappenstomorrow.
—Lily
DearEllen,
Ifast-forwardthroughallyourdancingwhenIwatchyourshow.Iusedtowatchthebeginningwhenyoudancedthroughtheaudience,butIgetalittleboredwithitnowand
wouldratherjusthearyoutalk.Ihopethatdoesn’tmakeyoumad.
Okay,soIfoundoutwhotheguyis,andyes,he’sstillgoingoverthere.It’sbeentwodaysnowandIstillhaven’ttoldanyone.
HisnameisAtlasCorriganandhe’sasenior,butthat’sallIknow.IaskedKatiewhohewaswhenshesatnexttomeonthebus.Sherolledhereyesandtoldme
hisname.Butthenshesaid,“Idon’tknowanythingelseabouthim,buthesmells.”Shescruncheduphernoselikeitgrossedherout.Iwantedtoyellatherandtellherhe
can’thelpit,thathedoesn’thaveanyrunningwater.Butinstead,Ijustlookedbackathim.Imighthavestaredalittletoomuch,becausehecaughtmelookingathim.
WhenIgothomeIwenttothebackyardtodosomegardening.Myradisheswerereadytobepulled,soIwasouttherepullingthem.Theradishesaretheonlythingleftinmy
garden.It’sstartingtogetcoldsothere’snotmuchelseIcanplantrightnow.Iprobablycouldhavewaitedafewmoredaystopullthem,butIwasalsooutsidebecauseIwasbeing
nosy.
InoticedasIwaspullingthemthatsomeweremissing.Itlookedliketheyhadjustbeendugup.IknowIdidn’tpullthemandmyparentsnevermesswithmy
garden.
That’swhenIthoughtaboutAtlas,andhowitwasmorethanlikelyhim.Ihadn’tthoughtabouthow—ifhedoesn’thaveaccesstoashower—he
probablydoesn’thavefood,either.
Iwentinsidemyhouseandmadeacoupleofsandwiches.Igrabbedtwosodasoutofthefridgeandabagofchips.IputtheminalunchbagandIranitovertotheabandoned
houseandsetitonthebackporchbythedoor.Iwasn’tsureifhesawme,soIknockedrealhardandthenranbacktomyhouseandwentstraighttomyroom.BythetimeIgottothewindow
toseeifhewasgoingtocomeoutside,thebagwasalreadygone.
That’swhenIknewhe’dbeenwatchingme.I’mkindofnervousnowthatheknowsIknowhe’sstayingthere.Idon’tknowwhatI’llsayto
himifhetriestotalktometomorrow.
—Lily
DearEllen,
IsawyourinterviewwiththepresidentialcandidateBarackObamatoday.Doesthatmakeyounervous?Interviewingpeoplewhocouldpotentiallyrunthecountry?Idon’t
knowalotaboutpolitics,butIdon’tthinkIcouldbefunnyunderthatkindofpressure.
Man.Somuchhashappenedtobothofus.YoujustinterviewedsomeonewhomightbeournextpresidentandI’mfeedingahomelessboy.
ThismorningwhenIgottothebusstop,Atlaswasalreadythere.Itwasjustthetwoofusatfirst,andI’mnotgonnalie,itwasawkward.Icouldseethebuscoming
aroundthecornerandIwaswishingitwoulddrivealittlefaster.Rightwhenitpulledup,hetookastepclosertomeand,withoutlookingup,hesaid,“Thankyou.”
Thedoorsopenedonthebusandheletmewalkonfirst.Ididn’tsayYou’rewelcomebecauseIwaskindofshockedbymyreaction.His
voicegavemechills,Ellen
Hasaboy’svoiceeverdonethattoyou?
Oh,wait.Sorry.Hasagirl’svoiceeverdonethattoyou?
Hedidn’tsitbymeoranythingonthewaythere,butonthewaybackfromschool,hewasthelastonegettingon.Thereweren’tanyemptyseats,butIcouldtell
bythewayhescannedallthepeopleonthebusthathewasn’tlookingforanemptyseat.Hewaslookingforme.
Whenhiseyesmetmine,Ilookeddownatmylaprealquick.IhatethatI’mnotveryconfidentaroundguys.Maybethat’ssomethingI’llgrowintowhenI
finallyturnsixteen.
Hesatdownnexttomeanddroppedhisbackpackbetweenhislegs.That’swhenInoticedwhatKatiewastalkingabout.Hedidkindofsmell,butIdidn’tjudgehim
forthat.
Hedidn’tsayanythingatfirst,buthewasfidgetingwithaholeinhisjeans.Itwasn’tthekindofholethatwastheretomakejeanslookstylish.Icouldtell
itwastherebecauseitwasagenuinehole,duetohispantsbeingold.Theyactuallylookedalittletoosmallforhim,becausehisankleswereshowing.Buthewasskinnyenoughthattheyfithim
justfineeverywhereelse.
“Didyoutellanyone?”heaskedme
Ilookedathimwhenhespoke,andhewaslookingrightbackatmelikehewasworried.ItwasthefirsttimeIhadactuallygottenagoodlookathim.Hishairwasdark
brown,butIthoughtmaybeifhewashedit,itwouldn’tbeasdarkasitlookedrightthen.Hiseyeswerebright,unliketherestofhim.Realblueeyes,likethekindyouseeonaSiberian
husky.Ishouldn’tcomparehiseyestoadog,butthat’sthefirstthingIthoughtwhenIsawthem.
Ishookmyheadandlookedbackoutthewindow.Ithoughthemightgetupandfindanotherseatatthatpoint,sinceIsaidIdidn’ttellanyone,buthedidn’t.
Thebusmadeafewstops,andthefactthathewasstillsittingbymegavemealittlecourage,soImademyvoiceawhisper.“Whydon’tyouliveathomewithyour
parents?”
Hestaredatmeforafewseconds,likehewastryingtodecideifhewantedtotrustmeornot.Thenhesaid,“Becausetheydon’twantmeto.”
That’swhenhegotup.IthoughtI’dmadehimmad,butthenIrealizedhegotupbecausewewereatourstop.Igrabbedmystuffandfollowedhimoffthebus.He
didn’ttrytohidewherehewasheadingtodaylikeheusuallydoes.Normally,hewalksdownthestreetandgoesaroundtheblocksoIdon’tseehimcutthroughmybackyard.Buttodayhe
startedtowalktowardmyyardwithme.
WhenwegottowhereIwouldnormallyturntogoinsideandhewouldkeepwalking,webothstopped.Hekickedatthedirtwithhisfootandlookedbehindmeatmy
house.
“Whattimedoyourparentsgethome?”
“Aroundfive,”Isaid.Itwas3:45
Henoddedandlookedlikehewasabouttosaysomethingelse,buthedidn’t.Hejustnoddedagainandstartedwalkingtowardthathousewithnofoodorelectricityor
water.
Now,Ellen,IknowwhatIdidnextwasstupid,soyoudon’thavetotellme.Icalledouthisname,andwhenhestoppedandturnedaroundIsaid,“Ifyouhurry,
youcantakeashowerbeforetheygethome.”
Myheartwasbeatingsofast,becauseIknewhowmuchtroubleIcouldgetintoifmyparentscamehomeandfoundahomelessguyinourshower.I’dprobablyverywell
die.ButIjustcouldn’twatchhimwalkbacktohishousewithoutofferinghimsomething.
Helookeddownatthegroundagain,andIfelthisembarrassmentinmyownstomach.Hedidn’tevennod.Hejustfollowedmeinsidemyhouseandneversaida
word.
Thewholetimehewasintheshower,Iwaspanicking.Ikeptlookingoutthewindowandcheckingforeitherofmyparents’cars,eventhoughIknewitwouldbeagood
hourbeforetheygothome.Iwasnervousoneoftheneighborsmighthaveseenhimcomeinside,buttheydidn’treallyknowmewellenoughtothinkhavingavisitorwouldbe
abnormal.
IhadgivenAtlasachangeofclothes,andknewhenotonlyneededtobeoutofthehousewhenmyparentsgothome,butheneededtobefarawayfromourhouse.I’msure
myfatherwouldrecognizehisownclothesonsomerandomteenagerintheneighborhood.
Inbetweenlookingoutthewindowandcheckingtheclock,Iwasfillinguponeofmyoldbackpackswithstuff.Foodthatdidn’tneedrefrigerating,acoupleofmy
father’sT-shirts,apairofjeansthatwereprobablygoingtobetwosizestoobigforhim,andachangeofsocks.
Iwaszippingupthebackpackwhenheemergedfromthehallway.
Iwasright.Evenwet,Icouldtellhishairwaslighterthanitlookedearlier.Itmadehiseyeslookevenbluer.
Hemusthaveshavedwhilehewasintherebecausehelookedyoungerthanhedidbeforehegotintheshower.Iswallowedandlookedbackdownatthebackpack,becauseIwas
shockedathowdifferenthelooked.Iwasscaredhemightseemythoughtswrittenacrossmyface
Ilookedoutthewindowonemoretimeandhandedhimthebackpack.“Youmightwanttogooutthebackdoorsonooneseesyou.”
Hetookthebackpackfrommeandstaredatmyfaceforaminute.“What’syourname?”hesaidasheslungthepackoverhisshoulder.
“Lily.”
Hesmiled.Itwasthefirsttimehe’dsmiledatmeandIhadanawful,shallowthoughtinthatmoment.Iwonderedhowsomeonewithsuchagreatsmilecouldhavesuch
shittyparents.Iimmediatelyhatedmyselfforthinkingit,becauseofcourseparentsshouldlovetheirkidsnomatterhowcuteoruglyorskinnyorfatorsmartorstupidtheyare.Butsometimes
youcan’tcontrolwhereyourmindgoes.Youjusthavetotrainitnottogothereanymore.
Heheldouthishandandsaid,“I’mAtlas.”
“Iknow,”Isaid,withoutshakinghishand.Idon’tknowwhyIdidn’tshakehishand.Itwasn’tbecauseIwasscaredtotouchhim.Imean,Iwas
scaredtotouchhim.ButnotbecauseIthoughtIwasbetterthanhim.Hejustmademesonervous.
Heputhishanddownandnoddedonce,thensaid,“IguessIbettergo.”
Isteppedasidesohecouldwalkaroundme.Hepointedpastthekitchen,silentlyaskingifthatwasthewaytothebackdoor.Inoddedandwalkedbehindhimashemadehis
waydownthehall.Whenhereachedthebackdoor,Isawhimpauseforasecondwhenhesawmybedroom.
Iwassuddenlyembarrassedthathewasseeingmybedroom.Nooneeverseesmybedroom,soI’veneverfelttheneedtogiveitamorematurelook.Istillhavethesame
pinkbedspreadandcurtainsI’vehadsinceIwastwelve.ForthefirsttimeeverIfeltlikerippingdownmyposterofAdamBrody.
Atlasdidn’tseemtocarehowmyroomwasdecorated.Helookedstraightatmywindow—theonethatlooksoutoverthebackyard—thenheglancedbackatme.
Rightbeforehewalkedoutthebackdoorhesaid,“Thankyoufornotbeingdisparaging,Lily.”
Andthenhewasgone.
OfcourseI’veheardthetermdisparagingbefore,butitwasweirdhearingateenageguyuseit.What’sevenweirderishoweverything
aboutAtlasseemssocontradictory.Howdoesaguywhoisobviouslyhumble,well-mannered,anduseswordslikedisparagingenduphomeless?Howdoesanyteenagerendup
homeless?
Ineedtofindout,Ellen.
I’mgoingtofindoutwhathappenedtohim.Youjustwaitandsee.
—Lily
???
I’mabouttoopenanotherentrywhenmyphonerings.IcrawlacrossthecouchforitandI’mnottheleastbitsurprisedtoseeit’smymotheragain.Nowthat
myfatherhaspassedandshe’salone,she’llprobablycallmetwiceasmuchasshedidbefore.
“Hello?”
“WhatdoyouthinkaboutmymovingtoBoston?”sheblurtsout.
Igrabthethrowpillownexttomeandshovemyfaceintoit,mufflingascream.“Um.Wow,”Isay.“Really?”
She’squiet,andthen,“Itwasjustathought.Wecandiscussittomorrow.I’malmosttomymeeting.”
“Okay.Bye.”
Andjustlikethat,IwanttomoveoutofMassachusetts.Shecan’tmovehere.Shedoesn’tknowanyonehere.She’dexpectmetoentertainherevery
day.Ilovemymother,don’tgetmewrong,butImovedtoBostontobeonmyown,andhavingherinthesamecitywouldmakemefeellessindependent.
MyfatherwasdiagnosedwithcancerthreeyearsagowhileIwasstillincollege.IfRyleKincaidwerehererightnow,I’dtellhimthenakedtruththatIwasalittlebitrelievedwhenmy
fatherbecametooilltophysicallyhurtmymother.ItcompletelychangedthedynamicoftheirrelationshipandInolongerfeltobligatedtostayinPlethoratomakesureshewasokay.
NowthatmyfatherisgoneandIneverhavetoworryaboutmymotheragain,Iwaslookingforwardtospreadingmywings,sotospeak.
Butnowshe’smovingtoBoston?
Itfeelslikemywingswerejustclipped.
Whereisamarine-gradepolymerchairwhenIneedone?!
I’mseriouslystressingoutandIhavenoideawhatI’ddoifmymothermovestoBoston.Idon’thaveagarden,orayard,orapatio,orweeds.
Ihavetofindanotheroutlet.
Idecidetoclean.Iplaceallofmyoldshoeboxesfullofjournalsandnotesinmybedroomcloset.ThenIorganizemyentirecloset.Myjewelry,myshoes,myclothes…
ShecannotmovetoBoston.ChapterThree
Sixmonthslater
“Oh.”
That’sallshesays.
Mymotherturnsandassessesthebuilding,runningafingeroverthewindowsillnexttoher.Shepicksupalayerofdustandwipesitbetweenherfingers.“It’s…”
“Itneedsalotofwork,Iknow,”Iinterrupt.Ipointatthewindowsbehindher.“Butlookatthestorefront.Ithaspotential.”
Shescrollsoverthewindows,nodding.There’sthissoundshemakesinthebackofherthroatsometimes,wheresheagreeswithalittlehumbutherlipsremaintight.Itmeansshe
doesn’tactuallyagree.Andshemakesthatsound.Twice.
Idropmyarmsindefeat.“Youthinkthiswasstupid?”
Shegivesherheadaslightshake.“Thatalldependsonhowitturnsout,Lily,”shesays.Thebuildingusedtohousearestaurantandit’sstillfullofoldtablesandchairs.
Mymotherwalksovertoanearbytableandpullsoutoneofthechairs,takingaseat.“Ifthingsworkout,andyourfloralshopissuccessful,thenpeoplewillsayitwasabrave,bold,
smartbusinessdecision.Butifitfailsandyouloseyourentireinheritance…”
“Thenpeoplewillsayitwasastupidbusinessdecision.”
Sheshrugs.“That’sjusthowitworks.Youmajoredinbusiness,youknowthat.”Sheglancesaroundtheroom,slowly,asifshe’sseeingitthewayitwilllookamonth
fromnow.“Justmakesureit’sbraveandbold,Lily.”
Ismile.Icanacceptthat.“Ican’tbelieveIboughtitwithoutaskingyoufirst,”Isay,takingaseatatthetable.
“You’reanadult.It’syourright,”shesays,butIcanhearatraceofdisappointment.IthinkshefeelsevenloneliernowthatIneedherlessandless.It’sbeen
sixmonthssincemyfatherdied,andeventhoughhewasn’tgoodcompany,ithastobeweirdforher,beingalone.Shegotajobatoneoftheelementaryschools,soshedidendupmoving
here.ShechoseasmallsuburbontheoutskirtsofBoston.Sheboughtacutetwo-bedroomhouseonacul-de-sac,withahugebackyard.Idreamofplantingagardenthere,butthatwouldrequire
dailycare.Mylimitisonce-a-weekvisits.Sometimestwice.
“Whatareyougoingtodowithallthisjunk?”sheasks.
She’sright.There’ssomuchjunk.It’lltakeforevertoclearthisplaceout.“Ihavenoidea.IguessI’llbebustingmyassforawhilebeforeIcaneventhink
aboutdecorating.”
“When’syourlastdayatthemarketingfirm?”
Ismile.“Yesterday.”
Shereleasesasigh,andthenshakesherhead.“Oh,Lily.Icertainlyhopethisworksoutinyourfavor.”
Webothbegintostandwhenthefrontdooropens.Thereareshelvesinthewayofthedoor,soIcareenmyheadaroundthemandseeawomanwalkin.Hereyesbrieflyscantheroomuntilshesees
me.
“Hi,”shesayswithawave.She’scute.She’sdressedwell,butshe’swearingwhitecapris.Adisasterwaitingtohappeninthisdustbowl.
“CanIhelpyou?”
Shetucksherpursebeneathherarmandwalkstowardme,holdingoutherhand.“I’mAllysa,”shesays.Ishakeherhand.
“Lily.”
Shetossesathumboverhershoulder.“There’sahelpwantedsignoutfront?”
Ilookoverhershoulderandraiseaneyebrow.“Thereis?”Ididn’tputupahelpwantedsign.
Shenods,andthenshrugs.“Itlooksold,though,”shesays.“It’sprobablybeenthereawhile.Iwasjustoutforawalkandsawthesign.Wascurious,is
all.”
Ilikeheralmostimmediately.Hervoiceispleasantandhersmileseemsgenuine.
Mymother’shandfallsdownonmyshoulderandsheleansinandkissesmeonthecheek.“Ihavetogo,”shesays.“Openhousetonight.”Itellhergoodbyeandwatch
herwalkoutside,thenturnmyattentionbacktoAllysa.
“I’mnotreallyhiringyet,”Isay.Iwavemyhandaroundtheroom.“I’mopeningupafloralshop,butit’llbeacoupleofmonths,atleast.”Ishould
knowbetterthantoholdpreconceivedjudgments,butshedoesn’tlooklikeshe’dbesatisfiedwithaminimumwagejob.Herpurseprobablycostmorethanthisbuilding.
Hereyeslightup.“Really?Iloveflowers!”Shespinsaroundinacircleandsays,“Thisplacehasatonofpotential.Whatcolorareyoupaintingit?”
Icrossmyarmovermychestandgrabmyelbow.Rockingbackonmyheels,Isay,“I’mnotsure.Ijustgotthekeystothebuildinganhourago,soIhaven’treallycomeup
withadesignplanyet.”
“Lily,right?”
Inod.
“I’mnotgoingtopretendIhaveadegreeindesign,butit’smyabsolutefavoritething.Ifyouneedanyhelp,I’ddoitforfree.”
Itiltmyhead.“You’dworkforfree?”
Shenods.“Idon’treallyneedajob,Ijustsawthesignandthought,‘Whattheheck?’ButIdogetboredsometimes.I’dbehappytohelp
youwithwhateveryouneed.Cleaning,decorating,pickingoutpaintcolors.I’maPinterestwhore.”Somethingbehindmecatcheshereyeandshepoints.“Icouldtakethatbroken
doorandmakeitmagnificent.Allthisstuff,really.There’sauseforalmosteverything,youknow.”
Ilookaroundattheroom,knowingfullwellI’mnotgoingtobeabletotacklethisbymyself.Iprobablycan’tevenlifthalfthisstuffalone.I’lleventuallyhavetohire
someoneanyway.“I’mnotgoingtoletyouworkforfree.ButIcoulddo$10anhourifyou’rereallyserious.”
Shestartsclapping,andifsheweren’tinheels,shemighthavejumpedupanddown.“WhencanIstart?”
Iglancedownatherwhitecapris.“Willtomorrowwork?You’llprobablywanttoshowupindisposableclothes.”
ShewavesmeoffanddropsherHermèsbagonadustytablenexttoher.“Nonsense,”shesays.“MyhusbandiswatchingtheBruinsplayatabardownthestreet.If
it’sokay,I’lljusthangwithyouandgetstartedrightnow.”
???
Twohourslater,I’mconvincedI’vemetmynewbestfriend.AndshereallyisaPinterestwhore.
Wewrite“Keep”and“Toss”onstickynotes,andslapthemoneverythingintheroom.She’safellowbelieverinupcycling,sowecomeupwithideasforatleast75
percentofthestuffleftinthebuilding.Therestshesaysherhusbandcanthrowoutwhenhehasfreetime.Onceweknowwhatwe’regoingtodowithallthestuff,Igrabanotebookanda
penandwesitatoneofthetablestowritedowndesignideas.
“Okay,”shesays,leaningbackinherchair.Iwanttolaugh,becauseherwhitecaprisarecoveredindirtnow,butshedoesn’tseemtocare.“Doyouhaveagoalforthis
place?”sheasks,glancingaround.
“Ihaveone,”Isay.“Succeed.”
Shelaughs.“Ihavenodoubtyou’llsucceed.Butyoudoneedavision.”
Ithinkaboutwhatmymothersaid.“Justmakesureit’sbraveandbold,Lily.”Ismileandsitupstraighterinmychair.“Braveand
bold,”Isay.“Iwantthisplacetobedifferent.Iwanttotakerisks.”
Shenarrowshereyesasshechewsonthetipofthepen.“Butyou’rejustsellingflowers,”shesays.“Howcanyoubebraveandboldwithflowers?”
IlookaroundtheroomandtrytoenvisionwhatI’mthinking.I’mnotevensurewhatI’mthinking.I’mjustgettingitchyandrestless,likeI’monthevergeofa
brilliantidea.“Whataresomewordsthatcometomindwhenyouthinkofflowers?”Iaskher.
Sheshrugs.“Idon’tknow.They’resweet,Iguess?They’realive,sotheymakemethinkoflife.Andmaybethecolorpink.Andspring.”
“Sweet,life,pink,spring,”Irepeat.Andthen,“Allysa,you’rebrilliant!”Istandupandbeginpacingthefloor.“We’lltakeeverythingeveryone
lovesaboutflowers,andwe’lldothecompleteopposite!”
Shemakesafacetoletmeknowsheisn’tfollowing.
“Okay,”Isay.“Whatif,insteadofshowcasingthesweetsideofflowers,weshowcasedthevillainousside?Insteadofpink
accents,weusedarkercolors,likeadeeppurpleorevenblack.Andinsteadofjustspringandlife,wealsocelebratewinteranddeath.”
Allysa’seyesarewide.“But…whatifsomeonewantspinkflowers,though?”
“Well,we’llstillgivethemwhattheywant,ofcourse.Butwe’llalsogivethemwhattheydon’tknowtheywant.”
Shescratcheshercheek.“Soyou’rethinkingblackflowers?”Shelooksconcerned,andIdon’tblameher.She’sonlyseeingthedarkest
sideofmyvision.Itakeaseatatthetableagainandtrytogetheronboard.
“Someoneoncetoldmethatthereisnosuchthingasbadpeople.We’realljustpeoplewhosometimesdobadthings.Thatstuckwithme,becauseit’ssotrue.We’veall
gotalittlebitofgoodandevilinus.Iwanttomakethatourtheme.Insteadofpaintingthewallsaputridsweetcolor,wepaintthemdarkpurplewithblackaccents.Andinsteadofonlyputting
outtheusualpasteldisplaysofflowersinboringcrystalvasesthatmakepeoplethinkoflife,wegoedgy.Braveandbold.Weputoutdisplaysofdarkerflowerswrappedinthingslikeleatheror
silverchains.Andratherthanputthemincrystalvases,we’llsticktheminblackonyxor…Idon’tknow…purplevelvetvaseslinedwithsilverstuds.Theideasare
endless.”Istandupagain.“Therearefloralshopsoneverycornerforpeoplewholoveflowers.Butwhatfloralshopcaterstoallthepeoplewhohate
flowers?”
Allysashakesherhead.“Noneofthem,”shewhispers.
“Exactly.Noneofthem.”
Westareateachotherforamoment,andthenIcan’ttakeitanothersecond.I’mburstingwithexcitementandIjuststartlaughinglikeagiddychild.Allysastartslaughing,too,
andshejumpsupandhugsme.“Lily,it’ssotwisted,it’sbrilliant!”
“Iknow!”I’mfullofrenewedenergy.“IneedadesksoIcansitdownandmakeabusinessplan!Butmyfutureofficeisfullofoldvegetablecrates!”
Shewalkstowardthebackofthestore.“Well,let’sgetthemoutofthereandgobuyyouadesk!”
Wesqueezeintotheofficeandbeginmovingcratesoutonebyoneandintoabackroom.Istandonthechairtomakethepilestallersowe’llhavemoreroomtomovearound.
“TheseareperfectforthewindowdisplaysIhaveinmind.”Shehandsmetwomorecratesandwalksaway,andasI’mreachingonmytiptoestostackthemattheverytop,the
pilebeginstotumble.Itrytofindsomethingtograbholdofforbalance,butthecratesknockmeoffthechair.WhenIlandonthefloor,Icanfeelmyfootbendinthewrongdirection.
It’sfollowedbyarushofpainstraightupmyleganddowntomytoes.
Allysacomesrushingbackintotheroomandhastomovetwoofthecratesfromontopofme.“Lily!”shesays.“OhmyGod,areyouokay?”
Ipullmyselfuptoasittingposition,butdon’teventrytoputweightonmyankle.Ishakemyhead.“Myankle.”
Sheimmediatelyremovesmyshoeandthenpullsherphoneoutofherpocket.Shebeginsdialinganumberandthenlooksupatme.“Iknowthisisastupidquestion,butdoyouhappento
havearefrigeratorherewithiceinit?”
Ishakemyhead.
“Ifigured,”shesays.Sheputsthephoneonspeakerandsetsitonthefloorasshebeginstorollupmypantleg.Iwince,butnotsomuchfromthepain.Ijustcan’tbelieve
Ididsomethingsostupid.IfIbrokeit,I’mscrewed.IjustspentmyentireinheritanceonabuildingthatIwon’tevenbeabletorenovateformonths.
“Heeey,Issa,”avoicecroonsthroughherphone.“Whereyouat?Thegame’sover.”
Allysapicksupherphoneandbringsitclosertohermouth.“Atwork.Listen,Ineed…”
Theguycutsheroffandsays,“Atwork?Babe,youdon’tevenhaveajob.”
Allysashakesherheadandsays,“Marshall,listen.It’sanemergency.Ithinkmybossbrokeherankle.Ineedyoutobringsomeiceto…”
Hecutsheroffwithalaugh.“Yourboss?Babe,youdon’tevenhaveajob,”herepeats.
Allysarollshereyes.“Marshall,areyoudrunk?”
“It’sonesieday,”heslursintothephone.“Youknewthatwhenyoudroppedusoff,Issa.Freebeeruntil…”
Shegroans.“Putmybrotheronthephone.”
“Fine,fine,”Marshallmumbles.There’sarustlingsoundthatcomesfromthephone,andthen,“Yeah?”
Allysaspitsoutourlocationintothephone.“Gethererightnow.Please.Andbringabagofice.”
“Yesma’am,”hesays.Thebrothersoundslikehemaybealittledrunk,too.There’slaughter,andthenoneoftheguyssays,
“She’sinabadmood,”andthenthelinegoesdead.
Allysaputsherphonebackinherpocket.“I’llgowaitoutsideforthem,they’rejustdownthestreet.Willyoubeokayhere?”
Inodandreachforthechair.“MaybeIshouldjusttrytowalkonit.”
AllysapushesmyshouldersbackuntilI’mleaningagainstthewallagain.“No,don’tmove.Waituntiltheygethere,okay?”
Ihavenoideawhattwodrunkenguysaregoingtobeabletodoforme,butInod.MynewemployeefeelsmorelikemybossrightnowandI’mkindofscaredofheratthemoment.
IwaitinthebackforabouttenminuteswhenIfinallyhearthefrontdoortothebuildingopen.“Whatintheworld?”aman’svoicesays.“Why
areyouallaloneinthiscreepybuilding?”
IhearAllysasay,“She’sbackhere.”Shewalksin,followedbyaguywearingaonesie.He’stall,alittlebitonthethinside,butboyishlyhandsomewithbig,honest
eyesandaheadfullofdark,messy,way-past-due-for-a-haircuthair.He’sholdingabagofice
DidImentionhewaswearingaonesie?
I’mtalkingalegit,full-grownmaninaSpongeBobonesie.
“Thisisyourhusband?”Iaskher,cockinganeyebrow.
Allysarollshereyes.“Unfortunately,”shesays,glancingbackathim.Anotherguy(alsoinaonesie)walksinbehindthem,butmyattentionisonAllysaassheexplainswhy
they’rewearingpajamasonarandomWednesdayafternoon.“There’sabardownthestreetthatgivesoutfreebeertoanyonewhoshowsupinaonesieduringaBruinsgame.”
Shemakesherwayovertomeandmotionsfortheguystofollowher.“Shefelloffthechairandhurtherankle,”shesaystotheotherguy.HestepsaroundMarshallandthefirstthing
Inoticearehisarms.
Holyshit.Iknowthosearms.
Thosearethearmsofaneurosurgeon
Allysaishissister?Thesisterthatownstheentiretopfloor,withthehusbandwhoworksinpajamasandbringsinsevenfiguresayear?
AssoonasmyeyeslockwithRyle’s,hiswholefacemorphsintoasmile.Ihaven’tseenhimin—God,howlongagowasthat—sixmonths?I
can’tsayIhaven’tthoughtabouthimduringthepastsixmonths,becauseI’vethoughtabouthimquiteafewtimes.ButIneveractuallythoughtI’dseehimagain.
“Ryle,thisisLily.Lily,mybrother,Ryle,”shesays,motioningtowardhim.“Andthat’smyhusband,Marshall.”
Rylewalksovertomeandkneelsdown.“Lily,”hesays,regardingmewithasmile.“Nicetomeetyou.”
It’sobviousheremembersme—Icanseeitinhisknowingsmile.Butlikeme,he’spretendingthisisthefirsttimewe’vemet.I’mnotsureI’minthemoodto
explainhowwealreadyknoweachother.
Ryletouchesmyankleandinspectsit.“Canyoumoveit?”
Itrytomoveit,butasharppainshootsallthewayupmyleg.Isuckinairthroughmyteethandshakemyhead.“Notyet.Ithurts.”
RylemotionstoMarshall.“Findsomethingtoputtheicein.”
AllysafollowsMarshalloutoftheroom.Whenthey’rebothgone,Rylelooksatmeandhismouthturnsupintoagrin.“Iwon’tchargeyouforthis,butonlybecauseI’m
slightlyinebriated,”hesayswithawink.
Itiltmyhead.“ThefirsttimeImetyou,youwerehigh.Nowyou’redrunk.I’mbeginningtoworryyouaren’tgoingtomakeaveryqualifiedneurosurgeon.”
Helaughs.“Itwouldappearthatway,”hesays.“ButIpromiseyou,Irarelyevergethighandthisismyfirstdayoffinoveramonth,soIreallyneededabeer.Or
five.”
Marshallcomesbackwithanoldragwrappedaroundsomeice.HehandsittoRyle,whopressesitagainstmyankle.“I’llneedthatfirstaidkitoutofyourtrunk,”Rylesays
toAllysa.ShenodsandgrabsMarshall’shand,pullinghimoutoftheroomagain.
Rylepresseshispalmagainstthebottomofmyfoot.“Pushagainstmyhand,”hesays.
Ipushdownwithmyankle.Ithurts,butI’mabletomovehishand.“Isitbroken?”
Hemovesmyfootfromsidetoside,andthensays,“Idon’tthinkso.Let’sgiveitacoupleofminutesandI’llseeifyoucanputanyweightonit.”
Inodandwatchasheadjustshimselfacrossfromme.Hesitscross-leggedandpullsmyfootontohislap.Helooksaroundtheroomandthendirectshisattentionbackatme.“Sowhatis
thisplace?”
Ismilealittletoobig.“LilyBloom’s.It’llbeafloralshopinabouttwomonths’time.”
Iswear,hiswholefacelightsupwithpride.“Noway,”hesays.“Youdidit?You’reactuallyopeningupyourownbusiness?”
Inod.“Yep.IfiguredImightaswelltryitwhileI’mstillyoungenoughtobouncebackfromfailure.”
Oneofhishandsisholdingtheiceagainstmyankle,buttheotheroneiswrappedaroundmybarefoot.He’sbrushinghisthumbbackandforth,likeit’snobigdealthathe’s
touchingme.Buthishandonmyfootiswaymorenoticeablethanthepaininmyankle.
“Ilookridiculous,huh?”heasks,staringdownathissolidredonesie.
Ishrug.“Atleastyouwentwithanon-characterchoice.ItgivesitabitmorematuritythantheSpongeBoboption.”
Helaughs,andthenhissmiledisappearsasheleanshisheadintothedoorbesidehim.Hestaresatmeappreciatively.“You’reevenprettierinthedaytime.”
MomentslikethesearewhyIabsolutelyhatehavingredhairandfairskin.Theembarrassmentdoesn’tonlyshowupinmycheeks—mywholeface,arms,andneckgrowflushed.
Irestmyheadagainstthewallbehindmeandstareathimjustlikehe’sstaringatme.“Youwanttohearanakedtruth?”
Henods.
“I’vewantedtogobacktoyourroofonmorethanoneoccasionsincethatnight.ButIwastooscaredyou’dbethere.Youmakemekindofnervous.”
Hisfingerspausetheirstrokesagainstmyfoot.“Myturn?”
Inod.
Hiseyesnarrowashishandmovestotheunderneathofmyfoot.Heslowlytraceshisfingersfromthetopsofmytoes,downtomyheel.“Istillverymuchwanttofuckyou.”
Someonegasps,anditisn’tme.
RyleandIbothlookatthedoorwayandAllysaisstandingthere,wide-eyed.HermouthisopenasshepointsdownatRyle.“Didyoujust…”Shelooksatmeandsays,“Iam
sosorryabouthim,Lily.”AndthenshelooksbackatRylewithvenominhereyes.“Didyoujusttellmybossyouwanttofuck
her?”
Oh,dear.
Rylepullshisbottomlipinandchewsonitforasecond.MarshallwalksinbehindAllysaandsays,“What’sgoingon?”
AllysalooksatMarshallandpointsatRyleagain.“HejusttoldLilyhewantstofuckher!”
MarshalllooksfromRyletome.Idon’tknowwhethertolaughorcrawlunderthetableandhide.“Youdid?”hesays,lookingbackatRyle.
Ryleshrugs.“Itappearsthatway,”hesays.
Allysaputsherheadinherhands,“JesusChrist,”shesays,lookingatme.“He’sdrunk.They’rebothdrunk.Pleasedon’tjudgemebecausemybrotherisan
asshole.”
Ismileatherandwaveitoff.“It’sfine,Allysa.Lotsofpeoplewanttofuckme.”IglancebackatRyleandhe’sstillcasuallystrokingmyfoot.“Atleastyour
brotherspeakshismind.Notalotofpeoplehavethecouragetosaywhatthey’reactuallythinking.”
Rylewinksatmeandthencarefullymovesmyankleoffhislap.“Let’sseeifyoucanputanyweightonit,”hesays.
HeandMarshallhelpmetomyfeet.Rylepointstoatableafewfeetawaythat’spushedupagainstawall.“Let’strytomakeittothetablesoIcanwrapit.”
Hisarmissecuredaroundmywaist,andhe’sgrippingmyarmtightlytomakesureIdon’tfall.Marshallismoreorlessjuststandingnexttomeforsupport.Iputalittleweight
onmyankleandithurts,butit’snotexcruciating.I’mabletohopallthewaytothetablewithalotofassistancefromRyle.HehelpsmepullmyselfupuntilI’mseatedon
topofit,leaningagainstthewallwithmylegstretchedoutinfrontofme.
“Well,thegoodnewsisthatitisn’tbroken.”
“What’sthebadnews?”Iaskhim.
Heopensthefirstaidkitandsays,“You’llneedtostayoffofitforafewdays.Maybeevenaweekormore,dependingonhowitheals.”
Iclosemyeyesandleanmyheadagainstthewallbehindme.“ButIhavesomuchtodo,”Iwhine.
Hecarefullybeginstowrapmyankle.Allysaisstandingbehindhim,watchinghimwrapit.
“I’mthirsty,”Marshallsays.“Anybodywantsomethingtodrink?There’saCVSacrossthestreet.”
“I’mgood,”Rylesays.
“I’lltakeawater,”Isay.
“Sprite,”Allysasays.
Marshallgrabsherhand.“You’recomingwith.”
Allysapullsherhandfromhisandcrossesherarmsoverherchest.“I’mnotgoinganywhere,”shesays.“Mybrothercan’tbetrusted.”
“Allysa,it’sfine,”Itellher.“Hewasmakingajoke.”
Shestaresatmesilentlyforamoment,andthensays,“Okay.Butyoucan’tfiremeifhepullsmorestupidshit.”
“IpromiseIwon’tfireyou.”
Withthat,shegrabsMarshall’shandagainandleavestheroom.Ryleisstillwrappingmyfootwhenhesays,“Mysisterworksforyou?”
“Yep.Hiredheracoupleofhoursago.”
Hereachesintothefirstaidkitandpullsouttape.“Youdorealizeshe’sneverhadajobinherentirelife?”
“Shealreadywarnedme,”Isay.Hisjawistightandhedoesn’tlookasrelaxedashedidearlier.ThenithitsmethathemightthinkIhiredherasawaytogetcloserto
him.“Ihadnoideashewasyoursisteruntilyouwalkedin.Iswear.”
Heglancesatme,andthenbackdownatmyfoot.“Iwasn’tsuggestingyouknew.”HebeginstotapeovertheACEbandage.
“Iknowyouweren’t.Ijustdidn’twantyoutothinkIwastryingtotrapyousomehow.Wewanttwodifferentthingsfromlife,remember?”
Henods,andcarefullysetsmyfootbackonthetable.“Thatiscorrect,”hesays.“Ispecializeinone-nightstandsandyou’reonthequestforyourHoly
Grail.”
Ilaugh.“Youhaveagoodmemory.”
“Ido,”hesays.Alanguidsmilestretchesacrosshismouth.“Butyou’realsohardtoforget.”
Jesus.Hehastostopsayingthingslikethat.Ipressmypalmsintothetableandpullmylegdown.“Nakedtruthcoming.”
Heleansagainstthetablenexttomeandsays,“Allears.”
Iholdnothingback.“I’mveryattractedtoyou,”Isay.“There’snotmuchaboutyouIdon’tlike.AndbeingasthoughyouandIbothwantdifferentthings,
ifwe’reeveraroundeachotheragain,I’dappreciateitifyoucouldstopsayingthingsthatmakemedizzy.It’snotreallyfairtome.”
Henodsonce,andthensays,“Myturn.”Heplaceshishandonthetablenexttomeandleansinalittle.“I’mveryattractedtoyou,too.There’snotmuchabout
youIdon’tlike.ButIkindofhopewe’reneveraroundeachotheragain,becauseIdon’tlikehowmuchIthinkaboutyou.Whichisn’tallthat
much—butit’smorethanI’dlike.Soifyoustillaren’tgoingtoagreetoaone-nightstand,thenIthinkit’sbestifwedowhatwecantoavoideachother.Because
itwon’tdoeitherofusanyfavors.”
Idon’tknowhowheendedupthisclosetome,buthe’sonlyaboutafootaway.Hisproximitymakesithardtopayattentiontowordsthatcomeoutofhismouth.Hisgazedrops
brieflytomymouth,butassoonaswehearthefrontdooropen,he’shalfwayacrosstheroom.BythetimeAllysaandMarshallmakeittous,Ryleisbusyrestackingallthecratesthatfell.
Allysalooksdownatmyankle.
“What’stheverdict?”sheasks.
Ipushmybottomlipout.“YourdoctorbrothersaysIhavetostayoffofitforafewdays.”
Shehandsmemywater.“Goodthingyouhaveme.IcanworkanddowhatIcantocleanupwhileyourest.”
Itakeadrinkofthewaterandthenwipemymouth.“Allysa,I’mdeclaringyouemployeeofthemonth.”
ShegrinsandthenturnstoMarshall.“Didyouhearthat?I’mthebestemployeeshehas!”
Heputshisarmaroundherandkissesthetopofherhead.“I’mproudofyou,Issa.”
IlikethathecallsherIssa,whichI’massumingisshortforAllysa.IthinkaboutmyownnameandifI’lleverfindaguywhocouldshortenitintoa
sickeninglycutenickname.Illy.
Nope.Notthesame.
“Doyouneedhelpgettinghome?”sheasks.
Ihopdownandtestmyfoot.“Maybejusttomycar.It’smyleftfoot,soIcanprobablydrivejustfine.”
Shewalksoverandputsherarmaroundme.“Ifyouwanttoleavethekeyswithme,I’lllockupandcomebacktomorrowandstartcleaning.”
Thethreeofthemwalkmetomycar,butRyleallowsAllysatodomostofthework.Heseemsalmostscaredtotouchmenowforsomereason.WhenI’minthedriver’sseat,Allysaputs
mypurseandotherthingsinthefloorboardandsitsinthepassengerseat.Shetakesmyphoneoutandbeginsprogramminghernumberintoit.
Ryleleansintothewindow.“Makesuretokeepiceonitasmuchasyoucanforthenextfewdays.Bathshelp,too.”
Inod.“Thanksforyourhelp.”
Allysaleansoverandsays,“Ryle?Maybeyoushoulddriveherhomeandtakeacabbacktotheapartment,justtobesafe.”
Rylelooksdownatmeandthenshakeshishead.“Idon’tthinkthat’sagoodidea,”hesays.“She’llbefine.I’vehadafewbeers,probably
shouldn’tbedriving.”
“Youcouldatleasthelpherhome,”Allysasuggests.
Ryleshakeshisheadandthenpatstheroofofthecarasheturnsandwalksaway.
I’mstillwatchinghimwhenAllysahandsmebackmyphoneandsays,“Seriously.I’mreallysorryabouthim.Firsthehitsonyou,thenhe’saselfishasshole.”She
climbsoutofthecarandclosesthedoor,thenleansthroughthewindow.“That’swhyhe’llbesinglefortherestofhislife.”Shepointstomyphone.“Textmewhen
yougethome.Andcallmeifyouneedanything.Iwon’tcountfavorsaswork-time.”
“Thankyou,Allysa.”
Shesmiles.“No,thankyou.Ihaven’tbeenthisexcitedaboutmylifesincethatPaoloNutiniconcertIwenttolastyear.”Shewavesgoodbyeand
walkstowardwhereMarshallandRylearestanding.
TheybeginwalkingdownthestreetandIwatchtheminmyrearviewmirror.Astheyturnthecorner,IseeRyleglanceoverhisshoulderandlookbackinmydirection.
Iclosemyeyesandexhale.
ThetwotimesI’vespentwithRylewereondaysI’dprobablyratherforget.Myfather’sfuneralandsprainingmyankle.Butsomehow,himbeingpresentmadethemfeellikeless
ofthedisasterstheywere.
Ihatethathe’sAllysa’sbrother.Ihaveafeelingthisisn’tthelasttimeI’llbeseeinghim.ChapterFour
Ittakesmehalfanhourtomakeitfrommycartomyapartment.IcalledLucytwicetoseeifshecouldhelpme,butshedidn’tanswerherphone.WhenImakeitinside
myapartment,I’malittleirritatedtoseeherlyingonthecouchwiththephonetoherear.
Islamourfrontdoorbehindmeandsheglancesup.“Whathappenedtoyou?”sheasks.
IusethewallforsupportasIhoptowardthehallway.“Sprainedmyankle.”
WhenImakeittomybedroomdoor,sheyells,“SorryIdidn’tanswerthephone!I’mtalkingtoAlex!Iwasgonnacallyouback!”
“It’sfine!”Ihollerbackather,andthenslammybedroomdoorshut.IgotothebathroomandfindsomeoldpainpillsIhadstuffedintoacabinet.Iswallowtwoofthemand
thenfallontomybedandstareupattheceiling.
Ican’tbelieveI’llbestuckinthisapartmentforanentireweek.Igrabmyphoneandtextmymother.
Sprainedmyankle.I’mfine,butcanIsendyoualistofthingstograbformeatthestore?
Idropmyphoneontomybed,andforthefirsttimesinceshemovedhere,I’mthankfulmymotherlivesfairlyclosetome.Itactuallyhasn’tbeenthatbad.IthinkIlikehermore
nowthatmyfatherhaspassedaway.Iknowit’sbecauseIheldalotofresentmenttowardherforneverleavinghim.Eventhoughalotofthatresentmenthasfadedwhenitcomestomymother,
IstillhavethesamefeelingswhenIthinkofmyfather.
Itcan’tbegood,stillholdingontosomuchbitternesstowardmyfather.Butdammit,hewasawful.Tomymother,tome,toAtlas.
Atlas.
I’vebeensobusywithmymother’smoveandsecretlysearchingforanewbuildingbetweenworkhours,Ihaven’thadtimetofinishreadingthejournalsIstartedreadingall
thosemonthsago.
Ihoppatheticallytomycloset,onlytrippingonce.Luckily,Icatchmyselfonmydresser.OnceIhavethejournalinhand,Ihopbacktothebedandgetcomfortable.
IhavenothingbettertodoforthenextweeknowthatIcan’twork.ImightaswellcommiserateovermypastwhileI’mforcedtocommiserateinthepresent.
DearEllen,
YouhostingtheOscarswasthegreatestthingtohappentoTVlastyear.Idon’tthinkIevertoldyouthat.Thevacuumingskitmademepissmypants.
Oh,andIrecruitedanewEllenfollowertodayinAtlas.Beforeyoustartjudgingmeforallowinghiminsidemyhouseagain,letmeexplainhowthatcameabout.
AfterIlethimtakeashowerhereyesterday,Ididn’tseehimagainlastnight.Butthismorning,hesatbymeonthebusagain.Heseemedalittlehappierthantheday
before,becauseheslidintotheseatandactuallysmiledatme.
I’mnotgonnalie,itwasalittleweirdseeinghiminmydad’sclothes.ButthepantsfithimalotbetterthanIthoughttheyweregoingto.
“Guesswhat?”hesaid.Heleanedforwardandunzippedhisbackpack.
“What?”
Hepulledoutabagandhandedittome.“Ifoundtheseinthegarage.Itriedtocleanthemupforyoubecausetheywerecoveredinolddirt,butIcan’tdomuch
withoutwater.”
Iheldthebagandstaredathimsuspiciously.It’sthemostI’deverheardhimsayatonce.Ifinallylookeddownatthebagandopenedit.Itlookedlikeabunch
ofoldgardeningtools.
“Isawyoudiggingwiththatshoveltheotherday.Iwasn’tsureifyouhadanyactualgardeningtools,andnoonewasusingthese,so…”
“Thankyou,”Isaid.Iwaskindofinshock.Iusedtohaveatrowel,buttheplasticbrokeoffthehandleanditstartedgivingmeblisters.Iaskedmymotherfor
gardeningtoolsformybirthdaylastyearandwhensheboughtmeafull-sizedshovelandahoe,Ididn’thavethehearttotellherit’snotwhatIneeded.
Atlasclearedhisthroatandthen,inamuchquietervoice,hesaid,“Iknowit’snotlikearealgift.Ididn’tbuyitoranything.But…Iwantedto
giveyousomething.Youknow…for…”
Hedidn’tfinishhissentence,soInoddedandtiedthebagbackup.“Doyouthinkyoucanholdthemformeuntilafterschool?Idon’thaveanyroominmy
backpack.”
Hegrabbedthebagfrommeandthenbroughthisbackpackuptohislapandputthebaginsideofit.Hewrappedhisarmsaroundhisbackpack.“Howoldareyou?”he
asked.
“Fifteen.”
Thelookinhiseyesmadehimseemalittlebitsadaboutmyage,butIdon’tknowwhy.
“You’reintenthgrade?”
Inodded,buthonestlycouldn’tthinkofanythingtosaytohim.Ihaven’treallyhadmuchinteractionwithalotofguys.Especiallyseniors.WhenI’m
nervous,Ikindofjustclamup.
“Idon’tknowhowlongI’llbestayingatthatplace,”hesaid,bringinghisvoicedownagain.“Butifyoueverneedhelpwithgardeningor
anythingafterschool,it’snotlikeIhavemuchgoingonthere.BeingasthoughIhavenoelectricity.”
Ilaughed,andthenwonderedifIshouldhavelaughedathisself-deprecatingcomment.
Wespenttherestofthebusridetalkingaboutyou,Ellen.Whenhemadethatcommentaboutbeingbored,Iaskedhimifheeverwatchedyourshow.Hesaidhe’dliketo
becausehethinksyou’refunny,butaTVwouldrequireelectricity.AnothercommentIwasn’tsureifIshouldhavelaughedat.
Itoldhimhecouldwatchyourshowwithmeafterschool.IalwaysrecorditontheDVRandwatchitwhileIdomychores.IfiguredIcouldjustkeepthefrontdoordead
bolted,andifmyparentsgothomeearly,I’djusthaveAtlasrunoutthebackdoor.
Ididn’tseehimagainuntiltheridehometoday.Hedidn’tsitbymethistimebecauseKatiegotonthebusbeforehimandsatnexttome.Iwantedtoaskherto
move,butthenshe’dthinkIhadacrushonAtlas.Katiewouldhaveafielddaywiththatone,soIjustletherstayinmyseat.
Atlaswasatthefrontofthebus,sohegotoffbeforeIdid.Hejustkindofawkwardlystoodthereatthebusstopandwaitedformetogetoff.WhenIdid,heopenedhis
backpackandhandedmethebagoftools.Hedidn’tsayanythingaboutmyinvitationtowatchTVfromearlierthismorning,soIjustactedlikeitwasagiven.
“Comeon,”Itoldhim.HefollowedmeinsideandIlockedthedeadbolt.“Ifmyparentscomehomeearly,runoutthebackdooranddon’tletthemsee
you.”
Henodded.“Don’tworry.Iwill,”hesaid,withkindofalaugh.
Iaskedhimifhewantedanythingtodrinkandhesaidsure.Imadeusasnackandbroughtourdrinkstothelivingroom.Isatdownonthecouchandhesatdowninmy
dad’schair.Iturnedonyourshowandthat’saboutallthathappened.Wedidn’ttalkmuch,becauseIfast-forwardedthroughallthecommercials.ButIdidnoticehelaughedat
alltherighttimes.Ithinkgoodcomedictimingisoneofthemostimportantthingsaboutaperson’spersonality.Everytimehelaughedatyourjokes,itmademefeelbetteraboutsneaking
himintomyhouse.Idon’tknowwhy.Maybebecauseifhe’sactuallysomeoneIcouldbefriendswith,it’dmakemefeellessguilty.
Heleftrightafteryourshowwasover.Iwantedtoaskhimifheneededtouseourshoweragain,butthatwouldhavecutitrealclosetotimeformyparentsgettinghome.
ThelastthingIwantedwasforhimtohavetorunoutoftheshowerandacrossmybackyardnaked.
Thenagain,that’dbekindofhilariousandawesome.
—Lily
DearEllen,
Comeon,woman.Reruns?Afullweekofreruns?Igetthatyouneedtimeoff,butletmemakeasuggestion.Insteadofrecordingoneshowaday,youshouldrecordtwo.Thatway
you’llgettwiceasmuchdoneinhalfthetime,andwe’dneverhavetositthroughreruns.
Isay“we”becauseI’mreferringtoAtlasandme.He’sbecomemyregularEllen-watchingpartner.Ithinkhemightloveyouas
muchasIdo,butI’llnevertellhimIwritetoyouonadailybasis.Thatmightseemalittletoofan-girl.
He’sbeenlivinginthathousefortwoweeksnow.He’stakenafewmoreshowersatmyhouseandIgivehimfoodeverytimehevisits.Ievenwashhisclothesfor
himwhilehe’shereafterschool.Hekeepsapologizingtome,likehe’saburden.Buthonestly,Iloveit.HekeepsmymindoffthingsandIactuallylookforwardtospendingtimewith
himafterschooleveryday.
Dadgothomelatetonight,whichmeanshewenttothebarafterwork.Whichmeanshe’sprobablygoingtoinstigateafightwithmymother.Whichmeanshe’ll
probablydosomethingstupidagain.
Iswear,sometimesIgetsomadatherforstayingwithhim.IknowI’monlyfifteenandprobablydon’tunderstandallthereasonsshechoosestostay,butI
refusetoletherusemeasherexcuse.Idon’tcareifshe’stoopoortoleavehimandwe’dhavetomoveintoacrappyapartmentandeatramennoodlesuntilIgraduate.That
wouldbebetterthanthis.
Icanhearhimyellingatherrightnow.Sometimeswhenhegetslikethis,Iwalkintothelivingroom,hopingit’llcalmhimdown.Hedoesn’tliketohitherwhen
I’mintheroom.MaybeIshouldgotrythat.
—Lily
DearEllen,
IfIhadaccesstoagunorkniferightnow,I’dkillhim.
AssoonasIwalkedintothelivingroom,Isawhimpushherdown.Theywerestandinginthekitchenandshe’dgrabbedhisarm,tryingtocalmhimdown,andhe
backhandedherandknockedherstraighttothefloor.I’mprettysurehewasabouttokickher,buthesawmewalkintothelivingroomandhestopped.Hemutteredsomethingunderhisbreath
toherandthenwalkedtotheirbedroomandslammedthedoor.
Irushedtothekitchenandtriedtohelpher,butsheneverwantsmetoseeherlikethis.Shewavedmeawayandsaid,“I’mfine,Lily.I’mfine,wejust
gotintoastupidfight.”
ShewascryingandIcouldalreadyseetherednessonhercheekfromwherehehither.WhenIwalkedclosertoher,wantingtomakesureshewasokay,sheturnedherbackto
meandgrippedthecounter.“IsaidI’mfine,Lily.Gobacktoyourroom.”
Iranbackdownthehallway,butIdidn’tgobacktomyroom.Iranstraightoutthebackdoorandacrossthebackyard.Iwassomadatherforbeingshortwithme.I
didn’tevenwanttobeinthesamehouseaseitherofthem,andeventhoughtitwasdarkalready,IwentovertothehouseAtlaswasstayinginandIknockedonthedoor.
Icouldhearhimmovinginside,likeheaccidentallyknockedsomethingover.“It’sme.Lily,”Iwhispered.Afewsecondslaterthebackdooropenedandhe
lookedbehindme,thentotheleftandrightofme.Itwasn’tuntilhelookedatmyfacethathesawIwascrying.
“Youokay?”heasked,steppingoutside.Iusedmyshirttowipeawaymytears,andnoticedhecameoutsideinsteadofinvitingmein.Isatdownontheporchstep
andhesatdownnexttome
“I’mfine,”Isaid.“I’mjustmad.SometimesIcrywhenIgetmad.”
Hereachedoverandtuckedmyhairbehindmyear.IlikeditwhenhedidthatandIsuddenlywasn’tnearlyasmadanymore.Thenheputhisarmaroundmeandpulledmeto
himsothatmyheadwasrestingonhisshoulder.Idon’tknowhowhecalmedmedownwithouteventalking,buthedid.Somepeoplejusthaveacalmingpresenceaboutthemandhe’soneof
thosepeople.Completelyoppositeofmyfather.
Wesatlikethatforawhile,untilIsawmybedroomlightturnon.
“Youshouldgo,”hewhispered.Wecouldbothseemymomstandinginmybedroomlookingforme.Itwasn’tuntilthatmomentthatIrealizedwhataperfect
viewhehasofmybedroom.
AsIwalkedbackhome,ItriedtothinkabouttheentiretimeAtlashasbeeninthathouse.ItriedtorecallifI’dwalkedaroundafterdarkwiththelightonatnight,
becauseallInormallywearinmyroomatnightisaT-shirt.
Here’swhat’scrazyaboutthat,Ellen:IwaskindofhopingIhad.
—Lily
Iclosethejournalwhenthepainpillsstarttokickin.I’llreadmoretomorrow.Maybe.Readingaboutthethingsmydadusedtodotomymom
kindofputsmeinabadmood.
ReadingaboutAtlaskindofputsmeinasadmood.
ItrytofallasleepandthinkaboutRyle,butthewholesituationwithhimkindofmakesmemadandsad.
MaybeI’lljustthinkaboutAllysa,andhowhappyIamthatsheshoweduptoday.Icoulduseafriend—nottomentionhelp—duringthesenextfewmonths.Ihaveafeeling
it’sgoingtobemorestressfulthanIbargainedfor.ChapterFive
Rylewascorrect.ItonlytookafewdaysformyankletofeelgoodenoughthatIcouldwalkonitagain.Iwaitedafullweekbeforeattemptingtoleavemyapartment,though.
ThelastthingIneedistoreinjureit.
OfcoursethefirstplaceIwentwastomyfloralshop.AllysawastherewhenIarrivedtoday,andtosayIwasshockedwhenIwalkedthroughthefrontdoorsisanunderstatement.Itlookedlike
atotallydifferentbuildingthantheoneIbought.There’sstillatonofworkthatneedstobedone,butsheandMarshallhadgottenridofallthestuffwemarkedastrash.Everythingelse
hadbeenorganizedintopiles.Thewindowshadbeenwashed,thefloorshadbeenmopped.SheevenhadtheareawhereIplantoputanofficecleanedout.
Ihelpedherforafewhourstoday,butshewouldn’tletmedomuchthatrequiredwalkingatfirst,soImostlydrewoutplansforthestore.Wepickedoutpaintcolorsandsetagoaldate
toopenthestorethat’sapproximatelyfifty-fourdaysfromnow.Aftersheleft,Ispentthenextfewhoursdoingallthestuffshewouldn’tletmedowhileshewasthere.Itfeltgood
tobeback.ButJesusChrist,I’mtired.
WhichiswhyI’mdebatingonwhetherornottogetupfromthecouchandanswertheknockatmyfrontdoor.LucyisatAlex’sagaintonightandIjustspoketomymotherfiveminutes
agoonthephone,soIknowitisn’teitherofthem.
Iwalktothedoorandcheckthepeepholebeforeopeningit.Idon’trecognizehimatfirst,becausehisheadisdown,butthenhelooksupandtotherightandmyheartfreaksthehell
out!
Whatishedoinghere?
Ryleknocksagain,andItrytobrushmyhairoutofmyfaceandsmoothitdownwithmyhands,butit’salostcause.IworkedmyassofftodayandIlooklikeshit,sounlessIhavehalf
anhourtotakeashower,putonmakeup,andthrowonclothesbeforeIopenthedoor,he’llprettymuchhavetodealwithmeasis.
Iopenthedoorandhisimmediatereactionconfusesme.
“JesusChrist,”hesays,droppinghisheadagainstmydoorframe.He’spantinglikehe’sbeenworkingout,andthat’swhenInoticethathedoesn’tlooktobe
anymorerestedorcleanthanIam.He’sgotacoupleofdays’worthofstubbleonhisface—somethingI’veneverseenonhimbefore—andhishairisn’tstyled
likeitusuallyis.It’salittleerratic,likethelookinhiseye.“DoyouhaveanyideahowmanydoorsI’veknockedontofindyou?”
Ishakemyhead,becauseIdon’t.Butnowthathementionsit—howinthehelldoesheknowwhereIlive?
“Twenty-nine,”hesays.Thenheholdsuphishandsandrepeatsthenumberswithhisfingerswhilehewhispers,“Two…nine.”
Iletmygazedropdowntohisclothes.He’sinscrubs,andIabsolutelyhatethathe’sinscrubsrightnow.HolyhellSomuchbetterthantheonesieandwaybetterthantheBurberry.
“Whydidyouknockontwenty-ninedoors?”Iaskwithatiltofmyhead.
“Younevertoldmewhichapartmentwasyours,”hesays,matter-of-factly.“Yousaidyoulivedinthisbuilding,butIcouldn’trememberifyouevensaidwhichfloor.And
fortherecord,Ialmoststartedwiththethirdfloor.IwouldhavebeenhereanhouragoifIwentwithmygutinstinct.”
“Whyareyouhere?”
Herunshishandsdownhisfaceandthenpointsovermyshoulder.“CanIcomein?”
Iglanceovermyshoulderandthenopenthedoorfarther.“Iguess.Ifyoutellmewhatyouwant.”
HewalksinsideandIclosethedoorbehindus.Heglancesaround,wearinghisstupidhotscrubs,andputshishandsonhishipsashefacesme.Helooksalittledisappointed,butI’mnot
sureifit’sinmeorhimself.
“There’sareallybignakedtruthcoming,okay?”hesays.“Braceyourself.”
Ifoldmyarmsovermychestandwatchasheinhalesabreath,preparingtospeak.
“Thesenextcoupleofmonthsarethemostimportantmonthsinmyentirecareer.Ihavetobefocused.I’mclosinginontheendofmyresidency,andthenI’llhavetositfor
myexams.”He’spacingmylivingroom,talkingfranticallywithhishands.“Butforthepastweek,Ihaven’tbeenabletogetyououtofmyhead.Idon’tknowwhy.At
work,athome.AllIcanthinkaboutishowcrazyitfeelswhenI’mnearyou,andIneedyoutomakeitstop,Lily.”Hestopspacingandfacesme.“Pleasemakeitstop.Justonce—that’sallit’lltake.Iswear.”
MyfingersarediggingintotheskinofmyarmsasIwatchhim.He’sstillpantingalittle,andhiseyesarestillfrantic,buthe’slookingatmepleadingly.
“Whenisthelasttimeyou’vehadsleep?”Iaskhim.
Herollshiseyeslikehe’sfrustratedthatI’mnotgettingit.“Ijustgotoffaforty-eight-hourshift,”hesaysdismissively.“Focus,
Lily.”
Inodandreplayhiswordsinmyhead.IfIdidn’tknowbetter…I’dalmostthinkhewas…
Iinhaleacalmingbreath.“Ryle,”Isaycarefully.“Didyouseriouslyjustknockontwenty-ninedoorssoyoucouldtellmethatthethoughtofmeismakingyourlifehelland
Ishouldhavesexwithyousothatyou’llneverhavetothinkofmeagain?Areyoukiddingmerightnow?”
Hefoldshislipstogetherand,afteraboutfivesecondsofthought,heslowlynodshishead.“Well…yeah,but…itsoundswayworsewhenyousayit.”
Ireleaseanexasperatedlaugh.“That’sbecauseit’sridiculous,Ryle.”
Hebiteshisbottomlipandlooksaroundtheroom,likehesuddenlywantstoescape.Iopenthedoorandmotionforhimtowalkout.Hedoesn’t.Hiseyesfalltomyfoot.“Yourankle
looksgood,”hesays.“Howdoesitfeel?”
Irollmyeyes.“Better.IwasabletohelpAllysaatthestoreforthefirsttimetoday.”
Henodsandthenmakeslikehe’swalkingtowardthedoortoleave.Butassoonashereachesme,hespinstowardmeandslapshispalmsagainstthedooroneithersideofmyhead.Igasp
atbothhisproximityandhispersistence.“Please?”hesays.
Ishakemyhead,eventhoughmybodyisstartingtotradesidesandbegmymindtocavetohim.
“I’mreallygoodatit,Lily,”hesayswithagrin.“You’llbarelyevenhavetodoanywork.”
Itrynottolaugh,buthisdeterminationisasendearingasitisannoying.“Goodnight,Ryle.”
Hisheaddropsbetweenhisshouldersandheshakesitbackandforth.Hepushesoffthedoorandstandsupstraight.Hehalf-turns,headingforthehallway,butthensuddenlydropstohisknees
infrontofme.Hewrapshisarmsaroundmywaist.“Please,Lily,”hesaysthroughself-deprecatinglaughter.“Pleasehavesexwithme.”He’s
lookingupatmewithpuppydogeyesandapathetic,hopefulgrin.“Iwantyouso,sobadandIswear,onceyouhavesexwithmeyou’llneverhearfrommeagain.Ipromise.”
There’ssomethingaboutaneurosurgeonliterallyonhiskneesbeggingforsexthatdoesmein.That’sprettypathetic.
“Getup,”Isay,pushinghisarmsawayfromme.“You’reembarrassingyourself.”
Heslowlystandsup,dragginghishandsupthedooroneithersideofmeuntilhehasmecagedinbetweenhisarms.“Isthatayes?”HischestisbarelytouchingmineandIhatehow
gooditfeelstobewantedthismuch.Ishouldbeturnedoffbyit,butIcanhardlybreathewhenIlookathim.Especiallywhenhehasthissuggestivesmileonhisface.
“Idon’tfeelsexyrightnow,Ryle.Iworkedallday,I’mexhausted,Ismelllikesweatandprobablytastelikedust.Ifyougivemealittlewhiletoshowerfirst,Imight
feelsexyenoughtohavesexwithyou.”
He’snoddingfeverishlybeforeI’mevenfinishedspeaking.“Shower.Takeallthetimeyouneed.I’llwait.”
Ipushhimawayfrommeandclosethefrontdoor.HefollowsmetothebedroomandItellhimtowaitonthebedforme.
Luckily,Icleanedmybedroomlastnight.NormallyIhaveclotheslyingaroundeverywhere,bookspileduponmynightstand,shoesandbrasthatdon’tquitemakeittomycloset.But
tonightit’sclean.Mybedisevenmadeup,completewiththeugly,quiltedthrowpillowsmygrandmotherpasseddowntoeverypersoninourfamily.
Imakeaquickglancearoundtheroom,justtomakesurenothingembarrassingwillcatchhiseye.HetakesaseatonmybedandIwatchashescanstheroom.Istandinthedoorwaytomy
bathroomandtrytogivehimonelastout.
“Yousaythiswillmakeitstop,butI’mwarningyourightnow,Ryle.I’mlikeadrug.Ifyouhavesexwithmetonight,it’sonlygoingtomakethingsworseforyou.But
onceisallyou’regetting.Irefusetobecomeoneofthemanygirlsyouuseto—howdidyouworditthatnight?Satisfyyourneeds?”
Heleansbackonhiselbows.“Youaren’tthatkindofgirl,Lily.AndI’mnotthekindofguywhoneedssomeonemorethanonce.Wehavenothingtoworryabout.”
Iclosethedoorbehindme,wonderinghowinthehellthisguytalkedmeintothis.
It’sthescrubs.Thescrubsaremyweakness.Ithasnothingtodowithhim
Iwonderifthere’sawayhecouldleavethemonduringthesex?
???
I’venevertakenmorethanhalfanhourtogetready,butit’salmostanhourbeforeI’mfinishedinthebathroom.Ishavedmorepartsofmethanwasprobably
necessary,andthenspentagoodtwentyminuteshavingafreak-out,andhadtotalkmyselfoutofopeningthedoorandtellinghimtoleave.ButnowthatmyhairisdryandI’mcleanerthan
I’veeverbeen,IthinkImightbeabletodothis.Icantotallyhaveaone-nightstand.I’mtwenty-threeyearsold.
Iopenthedoorandhe’sstillthereonmybed.I’malittledisappointedtoseethathisscrubtopisonthefloor,butIdon’tseehispants,sohemuststillbewearing
them.He’sunderthecovers,though,soIcan’ttell.
Iclosethedoorbehindmeandwaitforhimtorolloverandlookatme,buthedoesn’t.Itakeafewstepscloser,andthat’swhenInoticehe’ssnoring.
Notjustalight—ohIjustfellasleep—snore.It’samiddleofREMsleepkindofsnore.
“Ryle?”Iwhisper.Hedoesn’tevenbudgewhenIshakehim.
You’vegottobekiddingme.
Idropdownontothebed,notevencaringifIwakehim.Ijustspentanentirehourgettingreadyforhimafterbustingmyasstoday,andthisishowhetreatsthisnight?
Ican’tbemadathim,though,especiallyseeinghowpeacefulhelooks.Ican’timagineworkingaforty-eight-hourshift.Plus,mybedisreallycomfortable.It’sso
comfortable,itcouldmakeapersonfallrightbacktosleepafterafullnightofrest.Ishouldhavewarnedhimaboutthat.
Icheckthetimeonmyphoneandit’salmost10:30p.m.Iputthephoneonsilentandthenliedownnexttohim.Hisphoneisonthepillownexttohishead,soIgrabitandswipeupthe
cameraoption.Iholdhisphoneaboveusandmakesuremycleavagelooksgoodandpushedtogether.Isnapapicturesohe’llatleastseewhathemissedouton.
Iturnoffthelightandlaughtomyself,becauseI’mfallingasleepnexttoahalf-nakedmanthatI’veneverevenkissed.
???
IcanfeelhisfingerstrailingupmyarmbeforeIevenopenmyeyes.IforcebackatiredsmileandpretendI’mstillsleeping.Hisfingerstrailovermyshoulderand
stopatmycollarbone,justbeforetheyreachmyneck.IhaveasmalltattootherethatIgotincollege.It’sasimpleoutlineofaheartthat’sslightlyopenatthetop.Icanfeel
hisfingerscirclearoundthetattoo,andthenheleansforwardandpresseshislipsagainstit.Isqueezemyeyesshuteventighter.
“Lily,”hewhispers,wrappinganarmaroundmywaist.Imoanalittle,tryingtowakeup,andthenrollontomybacksothatIcanlookupathim.WhenIopenmy
eyes,he’sstaringdownatme.Icantellbythewaythesunlightshinesthroughmywindowsandacrosshisfacethatit’snotevensevena.m.yet.
“Iamthemostdespicablemanyou’veevermet.AmIright?”
Ilaugh,andnodalittle.“Prettydamnclose.”
Hesmilesandthenbrushesmyhairoffmyface.Heleansforwardandpresseshislipstomyforehead,andIhatethathejustdidthat.NowI’llbetheone
plaguedwithsleeplessnights,becauseIwanttoputthismemoryonrepeat.
“Ihavetogo,”hesays.“I’mreallylate.Butone—I’msorry.Two—I’llneverdothisagain.Thisisthelastyou’llhearfromme,Ipromise.
Andthree—I’mreallysorry.Youhavenoidea.”
Iforceasmile,butIwanttofrownbecauseIabsolutelyhatedhisnumbertwo.Iactuallydon’tmindifhetriesthisagain,butthenIremindmyselfthatwewanttwodifferentthings
fromlife.Andit’sgoodthathefellasleepandweneverevenkissed,becauseifIwouldhavehadsexwithhimwhilehewaswearingscrubs,Iwouldhavebeentheoneshowingupathisdoor
onmyknees,beggingformore.
Thisisgood.RiptheBand-Aidoffandlethimleave.
“Haveanicelife,Ryle.Iwishyouallthesuccessintheworld.”
Hedoesn’trespondtomygoodbye.Hesilentlystaresdownatmewithsomewhatofafrown,andthensays,“Yeah.Youtoo,Lily.”
Thenherollsawayfrommeandstandsup.Ican’tevenlookathimrightnow,soIrollontomysidesothatmybackistohim.Ilistenasheputshisshoesonandthenreachesforhis
phone.There’salongpausebeforehemovesagain,andIknowit’sbecausehewasstaringatme.IsqueezemyeyesshutuntilIheartheslamofthefrontdoor.
Myfaceimmediatelygrowswarm,andIrefusetoallowmyselftomope.Iforcemyselfoffthebed.Ihaveworktodo.Ican’tbeupsetthatI’mnotenoughtomakeaguywanttoremap
allofhislifegoals.
Besides,Ihavemyownlifegoalstoworryaboutnow.AndI’mreallyexcitedaboutthem.Somuchso,thatIreallydon’thavetimeforaguyinmylife,
anyway.
Notime.
Nope.
Busygirl,here.
Iamabraveandboldbusinesswomanwithzerofuckstogiveformeninscrubs.ChapterSix
It’sbeenfifty-threedayssinceRylewalkedoutofmyapartmentthatmorning.Whichmeansit’sbeenfifty-threedayssinceI’veheardfromhim.
Butthat’sokay,becauseforthelastfifty-threedays,I’vebeentoobusytoreallygivehimmuchthoughtasIpreparedforthismoment.
“Ready?”Allysasays.
Inod,andsheflipsthesigntoOpenandwebothhugandsqueallikelittlekids.
Werusharoundthecounterandwaitforourfirstcustomer.It’sasoftopening,soIhaven’treallydoneamarketingpushyet,butwejustwanttomakesuretherearen’tany
kinksbeforeourgrandopening.
“It’sreallyprettyinhere,”Allysasays,admiringourhardwork.Ilookaroundus,burstingwithpride.OfcourseIwanttosucceed,butatthispointI’mnotevensure
ifthatmatters.IhadadreamandIbustedmyasstomakeitcometrue.Whateverhappensaftertodayisjusticingonthecake.
“Itsmellssogoodinhere,”Isay.“Ilovethissmell.”
Idon’tknowifwe’llgetanycustomerstoday,butwe’rebothactinglikethisisthebestthingthat’severhappenedtous,soIdon’tthinkthatmatters.Besides,
Marshallwillcomeinatsomepointtodayandmymotherwillcomeinaftershegetsoffwork.That’stwocustomersforsure.That’splenty.
Allysasqueezesmyarmwhenthefrontdoorbeginstoopen.Isuddenlygrowalittlepanicked,becausewhatifsomethinggoeswrong?
AndthenIdopanic,becausesomethingjustwentwrong.Terriblywrong.MyveryfirstcustomerisnoneotherthanRyleKincaid.
Hestopswhenthedoorclosesbehindhimandhelooksaroundinawe.“What?”hesays,turninginacircle.“Howinthe…?”HelooksoveratmeandAllysa.
“Thisisincredible.Itdoesn’tevenlooklikethesamebuilding!”
Okay,maybeI’mfinewithhimbeingthefirstcustomer.
Ittakeshimafewminutestoactuallymakeittothecounterbecausehecan’tstoptouchingthingsandlookingatthings.Whenhefinallydoesreachus,Allysarunsaroundthecounterand
hugshim.“Isn’titbeautiful?”shesays.Shewavesherhandinmydirection.“Itwasallheridea.Allofit.Ijusthelpedwiththedirtywork.”
Rylelaughs.“IfindithardtobelievethatyourPinterestskillsdidn’tplayalittlepart.”
Inod.“She’sbeingmodest.Herskillswerehalfofwhatbroughtthisvisiontolife.”
Rylesmilesatmeanditmightaswellhavebeenaknifetothechest,becauseouch
Heslapshishandsonthecounterandsays,“AmIthefirstofficialcustomer?”
Allysahandshimoneofourflyers.“Youhavetoactuallybuysomethingtobeconsideredacustomer.”
Ryleglancesovertheflyerandthensetsitbackdownonthecounter.Hewalkstooneofthedisplaysandgrabsavasefullofpurplelilies.“Iwantthese,”hesays,settingthem
onthecounter.
Ismile,wonderingifherealizeshejustpickedlilies.Kindofironic.
“Doyouwantustodeliverthemsomewhere?”Allysasays.
“Youguysdeliver?”
“AllysaandIdon’t,”Ireply.“Wehaveadeliverydriveronstandby.Weweren’tsureifwe’dactuallyneedhimtoday.”
“Areyouactuallybuyingtheseforagirl?”Allysaasks.She’sjustpryingintoherbrother’slovelifelikeasisterwouldnaturallydo,butIcatchmyselfstepping
closertohersoIcanhearhisanswerbetter.
“Iam,”hesays.Hiseyesmeetmineandheadds,“Idon’tthinkaboutherverymuch,though.Hardlyever.”
Allysagrabsacardandslidesittohim.“Poorgirl,”shesays.“Youaresuchadick.”Shetapsherfingeronthecard.“Writeyourmessagetoheronthefrontand
theaddressyouwantthemdeliveredtoontheback.”
Iwatchhimashebendsoverthecardandwritesonbothsides.IknowIdon’thavearight,butI’mbrimmingwithjealousy.
“AreyoubringingthisgirltomybirthdaypartyFriday?”Allysaaskshim
Iwatchhisreactionclosely.Hejustshakeshisheadandwithoutlookinguphesays,“No.Areyougoing,Lily?”
Ican’ttellbyhisvoicealoneifhe’shopingI’llbethereorhopingIwon’t.ConsideringthestressIseemtocausehim,I’mguessingit’sthelatter.
“Ihaven’tdecidedyet.”
“She’llbethere,”Allysasays,answeringforme.Shelooksatmeandnarrowshereyes.“You’recomingtomypartywhetheryoulikeitornot.Ifyoudon’t
showup,I’llquit.”
WhenRyleisfinishedwriting,hetucksthecardintotheenvelopeattachedtotheflowers.Allysaringsuphistotalandhepaysincash.Helooksatmewhilehe’scountingouthismoney.
“Lily,doyouknowthatit’scustomforanewbusinesstoframethefirstdollartheymake?”
Inod.OfcourseIknowthat.HeknowsIknowthat.He’sjustrubbingitinmyfacethathisdollarwillbetheoneframedonmywall
forthelifeofthisstore.IalmostencourageAllysatogivehimarefund,butthisisbusiness.Ihavetoleavemywoundedprideoutofit.
Oncehehashisreceiptinhand,hetapshisfistonthecountertogetmyattention.Hedipshisheadalittleand,withagenuinesmile,hesays,“Congratulations,Lily.”
Heturnsandwalksoutofthestore.Assoonasthedoorclosesbehindhim,Allysaisgrabbingfortheenvelope.“Whointhehellishesendingflowersto?”shesaysasshepullsthe
cardout.“Ryledoesn’tsendflowers.”
Shereadsthefrontofthecardoutloud.“Makeitstop.”
Holyshit.
Shestaresatitforamoment,repeatingthephrase.“Makeitstop?Whatinthehelldoesthatevenmean?”sheasks.
Ican’ttakeitanothersecond.Igrabthecardfromherandflipitover.Sheleansoverandreadsthebackofitwithme.
“Heissuchanidiot,”shesayswithalaugh.“Hewrotetheaddresstoourfloralshopontheback.”Shetakesthecardoutofmyhands.
Wow
Rylejustboughtmeflowers.Notjustanyflower.Heboughtmeabouquetoflilies.
Allysapicksupherphone.“I’lltexthimandtellhimhescrewedup.”Sheshootshimatextandthenlaughsasshestaresattheflowers.“Howcananeurosurgeonbesuch
anidiot?”
Ican’tstopgrinning.I’mrelievedshe’sstaringattheflowersandnotatmeorshemayputtwoandtwotogether.“I’llkeeptheminmyofficeuntilwefigureout
whereheintendedforthemtogo.”Iscoopupthevaseandwhiskawaymyflowers.ChapterSeven
“Stopfidgeting,”Devinsays.
“I’mnotfidgeting.”
Heloopshisarmthroughmineashewalksmetowardtheelevator.“Yes,youare.Andifyoupullthattopupoveryourcleavageonemoretime,it’lldefeatthewholepurposeofyour
littleblackdress.”Hegrabsmytopandyanksitbackdown,andthenproceedstoreachinsidetoadjustmybra.
“Devin!”Islaphishandawayandhelaughs.
“Relax,Lily.I’vetouchedwaybetterboobsthanyoursandI’mstillgay.”
“Yeah,butIbetthoseboobswereattachedtopeopleyouprobablyhangoutwithmorethanonceeverysixmonths.”
Devinlaughs.“True,butthat’shalfyourfault.You’retheonewholeftushighanddrytoplaywithflowers.”
DevinwasoneofmyfavoritepeopleatthemarketingfirmIworkedat,butweweren’tcloseenoughtowhereweactivelybecamefriendsoutsideofwork.Hestoppedbythefloralshopthis
afternoonandAllysatooktohimalmostimmediately.ShebeggedhimtocometothepartywithmeandsinceIdidn’treallywanttoshowupalone,Iendedupbegginghimtocome,too.
Ismoothmyhandsovermyhairandtrytocatchaglimpseofmyreflectionintheelevatorwalls.
“Whyareyousonervous?”heasks.
“I’mnotnervous.IjusthateshowinguptoplaceswhereIdon’tknowanyone.”
Devinsmirksknowinglyandthensays,“What’shisname?”
Ireleaseapent-upbreath.AmIthattransparent?“Ryle.He’saneurosurgeon.Andhewantstohavesexwithmereally,reallybad.”
“Howdoyouknowhewantstohavesexwithyou?”
“Becauseheliterallygotdownonhiskneesandsaid,‘Please,Lily.Pleasehavesexwithme.’”
Devinraisesaneyebrow.“Hebegged?”
Inod.“Itwasn’taspatheticasitsounds.He’susuallymorecomposed.”
Theelevatordingsandthedoorsbegintoopen.Icanhearmusicpouringfromdownthehallway.Devintakesbothofmyhandsinhisandsays,“Sowhat’stheplan?DoIneedtomake
thisguyjealous?”
“No,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Thatwouldn’tberight.”But…Ryledoesmakeitapointeverytimeheseesmetotellmehehopesheneverseesmeagain.
“Maybejustalittle?”Isay,scrunchingupmynose.“Asmidge?”
Devinpopshisjawandsays,“Consideritdone.”Heputshishandonmylowerbackashewalksmeoutoftheelevator.There’sonlyonevisibledoorinthehallway,sowemake
ourwayoverandringthedoorbell.
“Whyisthereonlyonedoor?”hesays.
“Sheownsthewholetopfloor.”
Hechuckles.“Andsheworksforyou?Damn,yourlifejustkeepsgettingmoreandmoreinteresting.”
Thedoorbeginstoopen,andI’mextremelyrelievedtoseeAllysastandinginfrontofme.There’smusicandlaughterpouringoutoftheapartmentbehindher.She’sholdinga
champagneglassinonehandandaridingcropintheother.Sheseesmestaringattheridingcropwithaconfusedlookonmyface,soshetossesitoverhershoulderandgrabsmyhand.
“It’salongstory,”shesays,laughing.“Comein,comein!”
ShepullsmeinandIsqueezeDevin’shandanddraghimbehindme.Shecontinuespullingusthroughacrowdofpeopleuntilwereachtheothersideofthelivingroom.“Hey!”
shesays,tuggingonMarshall’sarm.Heturnsaroundandsmilesatme,thenpullsmeinforahug.Iglancebehindhim,andaroundus,butthere’snosignofRyle.MaybeIgotluckyandhegotcalledintoworktonight.
MarshallreachesoutforDevin’shandandshakesit.“Hey,man!Goodtomeetyou!”
Devinwrapsanarmaroundmywaist.“I’mDevin!”heyellsoverthemusic.“I’mLily’ssexualpartner!”
Ilaughandelbowhim,thenleanintohisear.“That’sMarshall.Wrongguy,butniceeffort.”
AllysagrabsmyarmandstartstopullmeawayfromDevin.Marshallbeginsspeakingtohim,andmyhandisreachingoutbehindmeasI’mbeingpulledintheoppositedirection.
“You’llbefine!”Devinyells.
IfollowAllysaintothekitchen,wheresheshovesaglassofchampagneinmyhand.“Drink,”shesays.“Youdeserveit!”
Itakeasipofthechampagne,butIcan’tevenappreciateitnowthatI’mgettingalookatherindustrial-sizedkitchenwithtwofullstovetopsandafridgebiggerthanmy
apartment.“Holyshit,”Iwhisper.“Youactuallylivehere?”
Shegiggles.“Iknow,”shesays.“Andtothink,Ididn’tevenhavetomarryhimformoney.MarshallhadsevenbucksanddroveaFordPintowhenIfellinlovewith
him.”
“Doesn’thestilldriveaFordPinto?”
Shesighs.“Yeah,butwehavealotofgoodmemoriesinthatcar.”
“Gross.”
Shewiggleshereyebrows.“So…Deviniscute.”
“AndprobablymoreintoMarshallthanme.”
“Ah,man,”shesays.“That’sabummer.IthoughtIwasplayingmatchmakerwhenIinvitedhimtothepartytonight.”
ThekitchendooropensandDevinwalksin.“Yourhusbandislookingforyou,”hesaystoAllysa.Shetwirlsherwayoutofthekitchen,gigglingthewholetime.“Ireallylike
her,”Devinsays.
“She’sgreat,huh?”
Heleansagainsttheislandandsays,“So.IthinkIjustmetTheBeggar.”
Myheartfluttersdownmychest.IthinkTheNeurosurgeonhasabetterringtoit.Itakeanothersipofmychampagne.“Howdoyouknowitwashim?Didhe
introducehimself?”
Heshakeshishead.“Nah,butheoverheardMarshallintroducingmetosomeoneas‘Lily’sdate.’Ithoughtthelookhegavemewasgoingtoset
meonfire.That’swhyIcameinhere.Ilikeyou,butI’mnotwillingtodieforyou.”
Ilaugh.“Don’tworry,I’msurethatdeathglarehegaveyouwasreallyhissmile.They’resuperimposedmostofthetime.”
ThedoorswingsopenagainandIimmediatelystiffen,butit’sonlyacaterer.Isighwithrelief.Devinsays,“Lily,”likemynameisa
disappointment.
“What?”
“Youlooklikeyou’reabouttopuke,”hesays,accusingly.“Youreallylikehim.”
Irollmyeyes.ButthenIletmyshouldersdropandIfakecry.“Ido,Devin.Ido,Ijustdon’twantto.”
Hetakesmyglassofchampagneanddownstheremainderofit,thenlockshisarminmineagain.“Let’sgomingle,”hesays,pullingmeoutofthekitchenagainstmywill.
Theroomisevenmorecrowdednow.Therehavetobemorethanahundredpeoplehere.I’mnotevensureIknowthatmanypeople.
Wewalkaroundandworktheroom.IstandbackwhileDevindoesmostofthetalking.Heknowssomeoneincommonwitheverypersonhe’smetsofar,andafterabouthalfanhouroffollowing
himaround,I’mconvincedhe’smadeitapersonalgametofindsomeoneincommonwitheveryonehere.ThewholetimeIminglewithhim,myattentionishalfonhimandhalfontheroom,
searchingfortracesofRyle.Idon’tseehimanywhereandIbegintowonderiftheguyDevinsawwasevenRyletobeginwith.
“Well,that’sodd,”awomansays.“Whatdoyousupposeitis?”
Ilookupandseethatshe’sstaringatapieceofartonthewall.Itlookslikeaphotographblownuponcanvas.Itiltmyheadtoinspectit.Thewomanturnshernoseupandsays,
“Idon’tknowwhyanyonewouldbotherturningthatphotographintowallart.It’sawful.It’ssoblurry,youcan’teventellwhatitis.”Shewalksawayina
huff,andI’mrelieved.Imean…it’sabitweird,butwhoamItojudgeAllysa’staste?
“Whatdoyouthink?”
Hisvoiceislow,deep,andrightbehindme.Iclosemyeyesbrieflyandinhaleasteadyingbreathbeforequietlyexhaling,hopinghedoesn’tnoticehisvoicehas
anyeffectonmewhatsoever.“Ilikeit.I’mnotquitesurewhatitis,butit’sinteresting.Yoursisterhasgoodtaste.”
Hestepsaroundmesothathe’satmyside,facingme.Hetakesastepcloseruntilhe’ssoclose,hebrushesmyarm.“Youbroughtadate?”
He’saskingitlikeit’sacasualquestion,butIknowitisn’t.WhenIfailtorespond,heleansinuntilhe’swhisperinginmyear.Herepeatshimself,butthistimeit
isn’taquestion.“Youbroughtadate.”
IfindthecouragetolookoverathimandinstantlywishIhadn’t.He’sinablacksuitthatmakesthescrubslooklikechild’splay.FirstIswallowtheunexpectedlumpinmy
throatandthenIsay,“IsitaproblemthatIbroughtadate?”Ilookawayfromhimandbackatthephotographhangingonthewall.“Iwastryingtomakethingseasieronyou.
Youknow.Justtryingtomakeitstop.”
Hesmirksandthendownstherestofhiswine.“Howthoughtfulofyou,Lily.”Hetosseshisemptywineglasstowardatrashcaninthecorneroftheroom.He
makestheshot,buttheglassshatterswhenithitsthebottomoftheemptycontainer.Iglancearoundme,butnoonesawwhatjusthappened.WhenIlookbackatRyle,he’shalfwaydowna
hallway.HedisappearsintoaroomandIstandhere,lookingatthepictureagain.
That’swhenIseeit.
Thepictureisblurred,soitwashardtomakeoutatfirst.ButIcanrecognizethathairfromanywhere.That’smyhair.It’shardtomiss,alongwiththe
marine-gradepolymerloungechairI’mlyingon.Thisisthepicturehetookontherooftopthefirstnightwemet.Hemusthavehaditblownupanddistortedsono
onewouldnoticewhatitwas.Ibringmyhandtomyneck,becausemybloodfeelslikeit’sbubbling.It’sreallywarminhere.
Allysaappearsatmyside.“It’sweird,huh?”shesays,lookingatthepicture.
Iscratchatmychest.“It’sreallyhotinhere,”Isay.“Don’tyouthink?”
Sheglancesaroundtheroom.“Isit?Ihadn’tnoticed,butI’malittledrunk.I’lltellMarshalltoturnontheair.”
Shedisappearsagain,andthemoreIstareatthepicture,theangrierIget.Themanhasapictureofmehangingintheapartment.Heboughtmeflowers.He’sgivingmeattitudebecauseI
broughtadatetohissister’sparty.He’sactinglikethere’sactuallysomethingbetweenus,andwe’veneverevenkissed!
Itallhitsmeatonce.Theanger…theirritation…thehalfglassofchampagneIhadinthekitchen.I’msomad,Ican’teventhinkstraight.Iftheguywantstohavesex
withmesobad…heshouldn’thavefallenasleep!Ifhedoesn’twantmetoswoon,heshouldn’tbuymeflowers!Heshouldn’thangcrypticpicturesofmewherehe
lives!
AllIwantisfreshair.Ineedfreshair.Luckily,Iknowjustwheretofindit.
Momentslater,Iburstthroughthedoortotherooftop.Therearestragglersfromthepartyuphere.Threeofthem,seatedonthepatiofurniture.Iignorethemandwalktotheledgewiththe
goodviewandleanoverit.Isuckinseveraldeepbreathsandtrytocalmmyselfdown.Iwanttogodownstairsandtellhimtomakeuphisdamnmind,butIknowIneedtohaveaclearheadbefore
Idothat.
Theairiscold,andforsomereason,IblamethatonRyle.Everythingishisfaulttonight.Allofit.Wars,famine,gunviolence—itallsomehowlinksbackto
Ryle.
“Canwehaveafewminutesalone?”
Ispinaround,andRyleisstandingneartheotherguests.Immediately,allthreeofthemnodandbegintostanduptogiveusprivacy.Iholdupmyhandsandsay,“Wait,”butnone
ofthemlookatme.“It’snotnecessary.Really,youdon’thavetoleave.”
Rylestandsstoicallywithhishandsinhispocketswhileoneoftheguestsmutters,“It’sfine,wedon’tmind.”Theybegintofilebackdownthestairwell.Irollmy
eyesandspinbacktowardtheledgeonceI’malonewithhim.
“Doeseveryonealwaysdowhatyousay?”Iask,irritated.
Hedoesn’trespond.Hisfootstepsareslowanddeliberateasheclosesinonme.Myheartbeginstobeatlikeit’sonaspeed-date,andIstartscratchingatmychestagain.
“Lily,”hesaysfrombehindme.
Iturnaroundandgriptheledgebehindmewithbothhands.Hiseyesjourneydowntomycleavage.Assoonastheydo,Iyankatthetopofmydresssohecan’tseeit,andthenIgripthe
ledgeagain.Helaughsandtakesanotherstepcloser.We’realmosttouchingnow,andmybrainismush.It’spathetic.I’mpathetic.
“Ifeellikeyouhavealottosay,”hesays.“SoI’dliketogiveyoutheopportunitytospeakyournakedtruth.”
“Hah!”Isaywithalaugh.“Areyousureaboutthat?”
Henods,soIpreparetolethimhaveit.Ipushagainsthischestandmakemywayaroundhimsothathe’stheoneleaningagainsttheledgenow.
“Ican’ttellwhatyouwant,Ryle!AndeverytimeIgettothepointwhereIstarttonotgiveashit,youshowupagainoutoftheblue!Youshowupatmy
work,youshowupatmyapartmentdoor,youshowupatparties,you…”
“Ilivehere,”hesays,excusingthelastone.Thatpissesmeoffevenmore.Iclenchmyfists.
“Ugh!You’redrivingmecrazy!Doyouwantmeordoyounot?”
Hestandsupstraightandtakesasteptowardme.“Oh,Iwantyou,Lily.Makenomistakeaboutthat.Ijustdon’twanttowantyou.”
Mywholebodysighsatthatcomment.PartlyoutoffrustrationandpartlybecauseeverythinghesaysmakesmeshiverandIhatethatIallowhimtomakemefeellikethis.
Ishakemyhead.“Youdon’tgetit,doyou?”Isay,softeningmyvoice.Ifeeltoodefeatedrightnowtokeepyellingathim.“Ilikeyou,Ryle.Andknowingthatyouonly
wantmeforonenightmakesmereally,reallysad.Andmaybeifthiswereafewmonthsago,wecouldhavehadsexanditwouldhavebeenfine.Youwouldhavewalkedaway
andIcouldhaveeasilymovedonwithmylife.Butit’snotafewmonthsago.Youwaitedtoolong,andtoomanypiecesofmeareinvestedinyounow,soplease.Stopflirtingwithme.Stop
hangingpicturesofmeinyourapartment.Andstopsendingmeflowers.Becausewhenyoudothosethings,itdoesn’tfeelgood,Ryle.Itactuallykindof
hurts.”
IfeeldeflatedandexhaustedandI’mreadytoleave.Heregardsmesilently,andIrespectfullygivehimtimetomakehisrebuttal.Buthedoesn’t.Hejustturnsaround,leansover
theledge,andstaresdownatthestreetlikehedidn’thearasinglewordIsaid.
Iwalkacrosstheroofandopenthedoor,halfexpectinghimtocalloutmynameoraskmenottoleave.IgetallthewaybacktotheapartmentbeforeIfinallyloseallhopeofthathappening.
IpushthroughthecrowdandmakeitthroughthreedifferentroomsbeforeIspotDevin.Whenheseesthelookonmyface,hejustnodsandbeginstomakehiswayacrosstheroomtowardme.
“Readytogo?”heasks,loopinghisarmthroughmine.
Inod.“Yes.Soready.”
WefindAllysainthemainlivingroom.ItellherandMarshallgoodnight,usingtheexcusethatI’mjustexhaustedfromopeningweekandI’dliketogetsomesleepbeforework
tomorrow.Allysagivesmeahugandwalksustothefrontdoor.
“I’llbebackonMonday,”shesaystome,kissingmeonthecheek.
“Happybirthday,”Isaytoher.Devinopensthedoor,butrightbeforewestepintothehallway,Ihearsomeoneyellmyname.
IturnaroundandRyleispushingthroughthecrowdontheothersideoftheroom.“Lily,wait!”heyells,stilltryingtomakehiswayovertome.Myheartiserratic.He’s
walkingquickly,steppingaroundpeople,growingmorefrustratedwitheverypersoninhisway.Hefinallyreachesabreakinthecrowdandmakeseyecontactwithmeagain.Heholdsmygazeashe
marchestowardme.Hedoesn’tslowdown.Allysahastostepoutofhiswayashewalksstraightuptome.Atfirst,Ithinkhemightkissme,oratleastgivearebuttaltoeverythingIsaid
tohimupstairs.Butinstead,hedoessomethingI’mnotatallpreparedfor.Hescoopsmeupintohisarms.
“Ryle!”Iyell,grippinghimaroundtheneck,afraidhemightdropme.“Putmedown!”Hehasanarmwrappedundermylegsandoneundermyback.
“IneedtoborrowLilyforthenight,”hesaystoDevin.“Thatokay?”
IlookatDevinandshakemyhead,wide-eyed.Devinjustsmirksandsays,“Bemyguest.”
Traitor!
Rylestartstoturnandwalkbacktowardthelivingroom.IlookatAllysaasIpassher.Hereyesarewidewithconfusion.“I’mgoingtokillyourbrother!”Iyellather.
Everyoneintheentireroomisstaringnow.I’msoembarrassed,IjustpressmyfaceagainstRyle’schestashewalksmedownthehallwayandintohisbedroom.Oncethedoorisshut
behindus,heslowlylowersmyfeetbacktothefloor.Iimmediatelystarttoyellathimandtrytopushhimoutofthewayofthebedroomdoor,buthespinsmeandshovesmeagainstthedoor,
grabbingbothofmywrists.Hepressesthemagainstthewallabovemyheadandsays,“Lily?”
He’slookingatmesointently,IstoptryingtofighthimoffofmeandIholdmybreath.Hischestispressingagainstmine,mybackispressedtothedoor.Andthenhismouthison
mine.Warmpressureagainstmylips.
Despitethestrengthbehindthem,hislipsarelikesilk.I’mshockedatthemoanthatrushesthroughme,andevenmoreshockedwhenIpartmylipsandwantmore.Histongueslidesagainst
mineandhereleasesmywriststograbmyface.HiskissgrowsdeeperandIgraspathishair,pullinghimcloser,feelingthekissinmyentirebody.
Bothofusbecomeamedleyofmoansandgaspsasthekissbringsusovertheedge,ourbodieswantingmorethanourmouthscandeliver.Ifeelhishandsashereachesdownandgrabsmylegs,
liftingmeupandhookingthemaroundhiswaist.
MyGod,thismancankiss.It’sasifhetakeskissingasseriouslyashetakeshisprofession.HebeginstopullmeawayfromthedoorwhenI’mhitwiththerealizationthatyes,
hismouthiscapableofalot.ButwhathismouthhasfailedtodoisrespondtoeverythingItoldhimupstairs.
ForallIknow,I’vejustgivenin.I’mgivinghimwhathewants:aone-nightstand.Andthat’sthelastthinghedeservesrightnow.
Ipullmymouthfromhisandpushonhisshoulders.“Putmedown.”
Hekeepswalkingtowardhisbed,soIsayitagain.“Ryle,putmedownrightnow.”
Hestopswalkingandlowersmetothefloor.Ihavetobackawayandfacetheotherdirectiontogathermythoughts.LookingathimwhileIstillfeelhislipsonmineismorethanIcandeal
withrightnow.
Ifeelhisarmsgoaroundmywaist,andherestshisheadonmyshoulder.“I’msorry,”hewhispers.Heturnsmearoundandbringsahanduptomyfaceandbrusheshisthumb
acrossmycheek.“It’smyturnnow,okay?”
Idon’trespondtohistouch.IkeepmyarmsfoldedacrossmychestandwaittohearwhathehastosaybeforeIallowmyselftorespondtohistouch.
“IhadthatpicturemadethedayafterItookit,”hesays.“It’sbeeninmyapartmentformonthsnow,becauseyouwerethemostbeautifulthingI’deverseenandI
wantedtolookatiteverysingleday.”
Oh.
“AndthatnightIshowedupatyourdoor?Iwentsearchingforyoubecausenooneinthehistoryofmylifehasevercrawledundermyskinandrefusedtoleavelikeyoudid.Ididn’t
knowhowtohandleit.AndthereasonIsentyouflowersthisweekisbecauseIamreally,reallyproudofyouforfollowingyourdream.ButifIsentyouflowerseverytimeI’vehadtheurge
tosendyouflowers,youwouldn’tevenbeabletofitinsideyourapartment.Becausethat’showmuchIthinkaboutyou.Andyes,Lily.You’reright.I’mhurtingyou,but
I’mhurting,too.Anduntiltonight…Ididn’tknowwhy.”
IhavenoideahowIevenpossiblyfindthestrengthtospeakafterthat.“Whyareyouhurting?”
Hedropshisforeheadtomineandsays,“Because.IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.Youmakemewanttobeadifferentperson,butwhatifIdon’tknowhowtobewhatyouneed?
ThisisallnewtomeandIwanttoprovetoyouthatIwantyouforsomuchmorethanjustonenight.”
Helookssovulnerablerightnow.Iwanttobelievethegenuinelookinhiseye,buthe’sbeensoadamantsincethedaythatImethimthathewantstheexactoppositeofwhatIwant.And
itterrifiesmethatI’llgiveintohimandhe’llwalkaway.
“HowdoIprovemyselftoyou,Lily?TellmeandI’lldoit.”
Idon’tknow.Ibarelyknowtheguy.Iknowhimenoughtoknowthatsexwithhimwon’tbeenoughforme,though.ButhowdoIknowsexwon’tbetheonlythinghewants?
Myeyesinstantlylockwithhis.“Don’thavesexwithme.”
Hestaresatmeforamoment,completelyunreadable.Butthenhestartstonodhisheadlikehe’sfinallygettingit.“Okay,”hesays,stillnodding.“Okay.Iwillnot
havesexwithyou,LilyBloom.”
Hewalksaroundmetohisbedroomdoorandhelocksit.Heflipsoffthelight,leavingonlyalampon,andthentakesoffhisshirtashewalkstowardme.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
Hetosseshisshirtonachairandthenslipsoffhisshoes.“We’regoingtosleep.”
Iglanceathisbed.Thenathim.“Rightnow?”
Henodsandwalksovertome.Inoneswiftmovement,heliftsmydressupandovermyhead,untilI’mstandinginthemiddleofhisbedroomfloorinmybraandpanties.Icovermyself,but
hedoesn’tevenlooktwice.Hepullsmetowardthebedandliftsthecoversformetocrawlin.Ashe’swalkingovertohissideofthebedhesays,“It’snotlikewe
haven’tslepttogetherbeforewithouthavingsex.Pieceofcake.”
Ilaugh.Hereacheshisdresserandplugshisphoneintoacharger.Itakeamomenttoskimhisbedroom.Thiscertainlyisn’tthetypeofsparebedroomI’musedto.Threeofmy
bedroomscouldfitinhere.There’sacouchagainsttheotherwall,achairfacingatelevisionandafullofficeoffthebedroomthatlookscompletewithafloor-to-ceilinglibrary.
I’mstilltryingtoseeeverythingaroundmewhenthelampgoesoff.
“Yoursisterisreallyrich,”IsayasIfeelhimpullthecoversoverbothofus.“WhatthehelldoesshedowiththetenbucksanhourIpayher?Wipeherasswith
it?”
Helaughsandgrabsmyhand,slidinghisfingersthroughmine.“Sheprobablydoesn’tevencashthechecks,”hesays.“Haveyoueverchecked?”
Ihaven’t.NowI’mcurious.
“Goodnight,Lily,”hesays.
Ican’tstopsmiling,becausethisiskindofridiculous.
Andsogreat.
“Goodnight,Ryle.”
???
IthinkImightbelost.
Everythingissowhiteandsoclean,it’sblinding.Ishufflethroughoneofthelivingroomsandtrytofindmywaytothekitchen.Ihavenoideawheremydressendeduplastnight,soI
pulledononeofRyle’sshirts.Itfallspastmyknees,andIwonderifhehastobuyshirtsthataretoobigforhimjustsothey’llfithisarms.
Therearetoomanywindowsandwaytoomuchsun,soI’mforcedtoshieldmyeyesasIgoinsearchofcoffee.
Ipushthroughthekitchendoorsandfindacoffeemaker.
Thankyou,Jesus.
Isetittobrewandthengoinsearchforamugwhenthekitchendooropensbehindme.IspinaroundandI’mrelievedtoseethatAllysaisn’talwaysaperfectconcoctionofmakeup
andjewelry.Herhairisinamessytopknotandmascaraissmeareddownhercheeks.Shepointsatthecoffeemaker.“I’mgonnaneedmesomeofthat,”shesays.Shepullsherselfup
ontheislandandthenslouchesforward.
“CanIaskyouaquestion?”Isay.
Shebarelyhastheenergytonod.
Iwavemyhandaroundthekitchen.“Howdidthishappen?Howinthehelldidyourentirehousebecomespotlessbetweenthepartylastnightandmewakingupjustnow?Didyoustayupand
clean?”
Shelaughs.“Wehavepeopleforthat,”shesays.
“People?”
Shenods.“Yep.Therearepeopleforeverything,”shesays.“You’dbesurprised.Thinkofsomething.Anything.Weprobablyhavepeopleforit.”
“Groceries?”
“People,”shesays.
“Christmasdécor?”
Shenods.“Peopleforthat,too.”
“Whataboutbirthdaygifts?Likeforfamilymembers?”
Shegrins.“Yep.People.EveryoneinmyfamilyreceivesagiftandacardforeveryoccasionandIneverhavetoliftafinger.”
Ishakemyhead.“Wow.Howlonghaveyoubeenthisrich?”
“Threeyears,”shesays.“MarshallsoldafewappshedevelopedtoAppleforalotofmoney.Everysixmonths,hecreatesupdatesandsellsthose,too.”
Thecoffeetransitionsintoaslowdrip,soIgrabamugandfillitup.“Youwantanythinginyours?”Iask.“Ordoyouhavepeopleforthat?”
Shelaughs.“Yes.Ihaveyou,andI’dlikesugar,please.”Istirsomesugarintohercupandwalkitovertoher,thenpourmyselfacup.ItgrowsquietforawhileasImix
increamer,waitingforhertosaysomethingaboutmeandRyle.Theconversationisinevitable.
“Canwejustgettheawkwardnessoutoftheway?”shesays.
Isigh,relieved.“Please.Ihatethis.”Ifaceherandtakeasipofmycoffee.Shesetshersdownbesideherandthengripsthecountertop.
“Howdidthatevenhappen?”
Ishakemyhead,tryingmybestnottosmilelikeI’mlove-struck.Idon’twanthertothinkI’mweak,orafoolforgivingintohim.“WemetbeforeIknew
you.”
Shetiltsherhead.“Wait,”shesays.“Beforewegottoknoweachotherbetterorbeforewekneweachotheratall?”“Atall,”Isay.“We
hadamomentonenight,aboutsixmonthsbeforeImetyou.”
“Amoment?”shesays.“Asin…aone-nightstand?”“No,”Isay.“No,weneverevenkisseduntillastnight.Idon’tknow,I
can’texplainit.Wejusthadthissortofflirtationthinggoingonforareallylongtimeanditfinallycametoaheadlastnight.That’sall.”
Shepicksuphercoffeeagainandtakesaslowdrinkfromit.ShestaresdownatthefloorforawhileandIcan’thelpbutnoticeshelooksalittlesad.
“Allysa?You’renotmadatme,areyou?”
Sheimmediatelyshakesherhead.“No,Lily.Ijust…”Shesetsdownhercoffeecupagain.“Ijustknowmybrother.AndIlovehim.Ireallydo.
But…”
“Butwhat?”
AllysaandIbothlookinthedirectionofthevoice.Ryleisstandinginthedoorwaywithhisarmsfoldedacrosshischest.He’swearingapairofgrayjoggingpantsthatarebarely
hangingontohiships.Noshirt.I’llbeaddingthisoutfittoalltheotheronesI’vecataloguedinmyhead.
Rylepushesoffthedoorandmakeshiswayintothekitchen.Hewalksovertomeandtakesmycupofcoffeeoutofmyhands.Heleansinandkissesmeontheforehead,thentakesadrinkashe
leansagainstthecounter.
“Ididn’tmeantointerrupt,”hesaystoAllysa.“Byallmeans,continueyourconversation.”
Allysarollshereyesandsays,“Stop.”
Hehandsmebackmycupofcoffeeandturnsaroundtograbhisownmug.Hebeginstopourfromthepot.“ItsoundedtomelikeyouwereabouttogiveLilyawarning.I’mjustcurious
astowhatyouhavetosay.”
Allysahopsoffthecounterandcarrieshermugtothesink.“She’smyfriend,Ryle.Youdon’thavethebesttrackrecordwhenitcomestorelationships.”Shewashesout
themugandthenleansherhipintothesink,facingus.“Asherfriend,Ihavetherighttogivehermyopinionwhenitcomestotheguysshedates.That’swhatfriends
do.”
I’msuddenlyfeelinguncomfortableasthetensiongrowsthickerbetweenthetwoofthem.Ryledoesn’teventakeadrinkofhiscoffee.HewalkstowardAllysaandpoursitoutinthe
sink.He’sstandingrightinfrontofher,butshewon’tevenlookathim.“Well,asyourbrother,Iwouldhopeyouhadalittlemorefaithinmethanyoudo.That’s
whatsiblingsdo.”
Hewalksoutofthekitchen,shovingthedooropen.Whenhe’sgone,Allysatakesadeepbreath.Sheshakesherheadandpullsherhandsuptoherface.“Sorryaboutthat,”she
says,forcingasmile.“Ineedtoshower.”
“Youdon’thavepeopleforthat?”
Shelaughsassheexitsthekitchen.IwashmymuginthesinkandheadbacktoRyle’sbedroom.WhenIopenthedoor,he’ssittingonthecouch,scrollingthroughhisphone.He
doesn’tlookupatmewhenIwalkinandforasecond,Ithinkhemightbemadatme,too.Butthenhetosseshisphoneasideandleansbackintothecouch.
“Comehere,”hesays.
HegrabsmyhandandpullsmedownontopofhimsothatI’mstraddlinghim.Hebringsmymouthtohisandkissesmesohard,itmakesmewonderifhe’stryingtoprovehissister
wrong.
Rylepullsawayfrommymouthandslowlyrakeshiseyesdownmybody.“Ilikeyouinmyclothes.”
Ismile.“WellIhavetogettowork,sounfortunately,Ican’tkeepthemon.”
Hebrushesthehairfrommyfaceandsays,“IhaveareallyimportantsurgerycomingupthatIneedtopreparefor.WhichmeansIprobablywon’tseeyouforafewdays.”
Itrytohidemydisappointment,butIhavetogetusedtoitifhereallywantstotryandmakesomethingworkbetweenus.He’salreadywarnedmethatheworkstoomuch.“I’m
busy,too.GrandopeningisonFriday.”
Hesays,“Oh,I’llseeyoubeforeFriday.Promise.”
Idon’thidemygrinthistime.“Okay.”
Hekissesmeagain,thistimeforasolidminute.Hestartstolowermetothecouch,butthenheshovesawayfrommeandsays.“Nope.Ilikeyoutoomuchtomakeoutwithyou.”
Iliedownonthecouchandwatchhimgetdressedforwork.
Tomyenjoyment,heputsonscrubs.ChapterEight
“Weneedtotalk,”Lucysays.
She’ssittingonthecouch,mascarastreakeddownhercheeks.
Oh,shit.
Idropmypurseandrushovertoher.AssoonasIsitdownnexttoher,shestartscrying.
“What’swrong?DidAlexbreakupwithyou?”
ShestartsshakingherheadandthenIreallystartfreakingout.Pleasedon’tsaycancer.Igrabherhand,andthat’swhenIseeit.“Lucy!You’re
engaged?”
Shenods.“I’msorry.Iknowwestillhavesixmonthsleftonthelease,buthewantsmetomoveinwithhim.”
Istareatherforaminute.Isthatwhyshe’scrying?Becauseshewantsoutofherlease?Shereachesforatissueandstartsdabbingathereyes.“Ifeelawful,Lily.
You’regoingtobeallalone.I’mmovingandyouwon’thaveanyone.”
Whatthe…
“Lucy?Um…I’llbefine.Ipromise.”
Shelooksupatmewithhopeinherexpression.“Really?”
Whyintheworlddoesshehavethisimpressionofme?Inodagain.“Yes.I’mnotmad,I’mhappyforyou.”
Shethrowsherarmsaroundmeandhugsme.“Oh,thankyou,Lily!”Shestartsgigglinginbetweenboutsoftears.Whenshereleasesme,shejumpsupandsays,“Ihavetogotell
Alex!Hewassoworriedyouwouldn’tletmeoutofmylease!”Shegrabsherpurseandshoesanddisappearsoutthefrontdoor.
Iliebackonthecouchandstareupattheceiling.Didshejustplayme?
Istartlaughing,becauseuntilthismoment,IhadnoideahowmuchI’vebeenwaitingforthistohappen.Thewholeplacetomyself!
What’sevenbetter,iswhenIdodecidetohavesexwithRyle,wecanhaveitoverhereallthetimeandnothavetoworryaboutbeingquiet.
ThelasttimeIspoketoRylewaswhenIlefthisapartmentonSaturday.Weagreedonatrialrun.Nocommitmentsyet.Justarelationshipfeelertoseeifit’ssomethingwebothwant.
It’snowMondaynightandI’malittledisappointedIhaven’theardfromhim.IgavehimmyphonenumberbeforewepartedSaturday,butIdon’treallyknowtexting
etiquette,especiallyfortrialruns
Regardless,I’mnottextinghimfirst.
IdecidetooccupymytimewithteenageangstandEllenDeGeneres,instead.I’mnotabouttowaitaroundtobebeckonedbyaguyI’mnotevenhavingsexwith.ButIdon’tknow
whyIassumethatreadingaboutthefirstguyIhadsexwithwillsomehowgetmymindofftheguyI’mnothavingsexwith.
DearEllen,
Mygreat-grandfather’snameisEllis.Myentirelife,Ithoughtthatwasareallycoolnameforsuchanoldguy.Afterhedied,Iwasreadingtheobituary.WouldyoubelievethatEllis
wasn’tevenhisrealname?HisrealnamewasLeviSampsonandIhadnoidea.
IaskedmygrandmotherwherethenameElliscamefrom.ShesaidhisinitialswereL.S.andeveryonecalledhimbyhisinitialsforsolong,theyjuststartedsoundingthemoutoverthe
years.
WhichiswhytheyreferredtohimasEllis.
Iwaslookingatyournamejustnowanditmademethinkofthat.Ellen.Isthatevenyourrealname?Youcouldbejustlikemygreat-grandfatherandusingyourinitialsasa
disguise.
L.N.
I’montoyou,“Ellen.”
Speakingofnames,doyouthinkAtlasisaweirdname?Itis,isn’tit?
YesterdaywhileIwaswatchingyourshowwithhim,Iaskedhimwherehegothisnamefrom.Hesaidhedidn’tknow.Withouteventhinking,Itoldhimheshouldaskhismotherwhyshe
namedhimthat.Hejustlookedoveratmeforasecondandsaid,“It’salittletoolateforthat.”
Idon’tknowwhathemeantbythat.Idon’tknowifhismomdied,orifshegavehimupforadoption.We’vebeenfriendsforafewweeksnowandIstilldon’treally
knowanythingabouthimorwhyhedoesn’thaveaplacetolive.Iwouldjustaskhim,butI’mnotsureifhereallytrustsmeyet.HeseemstohavetrustissuesandIguessI
can’tblamehim.
I’mworriedabouthim.Itstartedgettingreallycoldthisweekandit’ssupposedtobeevencoldernextweek.Ifhedoesn’thaveelectricity,thatmeanshedoesn’t
haveaheater.Ihopeheatleasthasblankets.DoyouknowhowawfulIwouldfeelifhefrozetodeath?Prettyfreakingawful,Ellen.
I’llfindsomeblanketsthisweekandgivethemtohim.
—Lily
DearEllen,
It’sgoingtostartsnowingsoonsoIdecidedtoharvestmygardentoday.IhadalreadypulledtheradishessoIjustwantedtoputsomemulchandcompostdown,whichwouldn’t
havetakenmelong,butAtlasinsistedonhelping.
HeaskedmealotofquestionsaboutgardeningandIlikedthatheseemedinterestedinmyinterests.Ishowedhimhowtolaythecompostandmulchtocoverthegroundsothatthesnow
wouldn’tdotoomuchdamage.Mygardenissmallcomparedtomostgardens.Maybetenfeetbytwelvefeet.Butit’sallmydadwillletmeuseofthebackyard.
AtlascoveredthewholethingwhileIsatcross-leggedinthegrassandwatchedhim.Iwasn’tbeinglazy,hejusttookoverandwantedtodoitsoIlethim.Icantellhe’sa
hardworker.Iwonderifmaybekeepinghimselfbusytakeshismindoffofthingsandthat’swhyhealwayswantstohelpmesomuch.
Whenhewasfinished,hewalkedoveranddroppeddownWhenhewasfinished,hewalkedoveranddroppeddownnexttomeonthegrass.nexttomeonthegrass.
“Whatmadeyouwanttogrowthings?”heasked.
Iglancedoverathimandhewassittingcross-legged,lookingatmecuriously.Irealizedinthatmomentthathe’sprobablythebestfriendI’veeverhad,andwebarelyknow
anythingabouteachother.Ihavefriendsatschool,butthey’reneverallowedtocomeovertomyhouseforobviousreasons.Mymotherisalwaysworriedsomethingmighthappenwithmyfather
andwordmightgetoutabouthistemper.Ialsoneverreallygettogotootherpeople’shousesbutI’mnotsurewhy.Maybemyfatherdoesn’twantmestayingoverat
friends’housesbecauseImightwitnesshowagoodhusbandissupposedtotreathiswife.Heprobablywantsmetobelievethewayhetreatsmymotherisnormal.
AtlasisthefirstfriendI’veeverhadthat’severbeeninsidemyhouse.He’salsothefirstfriendtoknowhowmuchIliketogarden.Andnowhe’sthefirstfriend
toeveraskmewhyIgarden.
IreacheddownandpulledataweedandstartedtearingitintolittlepieceswhileIthoughtabouthisquestion.
“WhenIwasten,mymothergotmeasubscriptiontoawebsitecalledSeedsAnonymous,”Isaid.“EverymonthIwouldgetanunmarkedpackageofseedsinthemailwith
instructionsonhowtoplantthemandcareforthem.Iwouldn’tknowwhatIwasgrowinguntilitcameupoutoftheground.EverydayafterschoolI’drunstraighttothebackyardto
seetheprogress.Itgavemesomethingtolookforwardto.Growingthingsfeltlikeareward.”
IcouldfeelAtlasstaringatmewhenheasked,“Arewardforwhat?”
Ishrugged.“Forlovingmyplantstherightway.Plantsrewardyoubasedontheamountofloveyoushowthem.Ifyou’recrueltothemorneglectthem,theygiveyounothing.But
ifyoucareforthemandlovethemtherightway,theyrewardyouwithgiftsintheformofvegetablesorfruitsorflowers.”IlookeddownattheweedIwastearingapartinmyhandsand
therewasbarelyaninchleftofit.Iwaddeditupbetweenmyfingersandflickedit.
Ididn’twanttolookoveratAtlasbecauseIcouldstillfeelhimstaring,soinstead,Ijuststaredoutovermymulch-coveredgarden.
“We’rejustalike,”hesaid.
Myeyesflickedtohis.“Meandyou?”
Heshookhishead.“No.Plantsandhumans.Plantsneedtobelovedtherightwayinordertosurvive.Sodohumans.Werelyonourparentsfrombirthtoloveusenoughtokeepusalive.
Andifourparentsshowustherightkindoflove,weturnoutasbetterhumansoverall.Butifwe’reneglected…”
Hisvoicegrewquiet.Almostsad.Hewipedhishandsonhisknees,tryingtogetsomeofthedirtoff.“Ifwe’reneglected,weenduphomelessandincapableofanything
meaningful.”
Hiswordsmademyheartfeellikethemulchhehadjustlaidout.Ididn’tevenknowwhattosaytothat.Doeshereallythinkthatabouthimself?
Heactedlikehewasabouttogetup,butbeforehedidIsaidhisname.
Hesatbackdowninthegrass.Ipointedattherowoftreesthatlinedthefencetotheleftoftheyard.“Youseethattreeoverthere?”Inthemiddleoftherowoftreeswasan
oaktreethatstoodtallerthanalltherestofthetrees.
Atlasglancedoveratitanddraggedhiseyesallthewayuptothetopofthetree.
“Itgrewonitsown,”Isaid.“Mostplantsdoneedalotofcaretosurvive.Butsomethings,liketrees,arestrongenoughtodoitbyjustrelyingonthemselvesandnobody
else.”
IhadnoideaifheknewwhatIwastryingtosaywithoutmecomingoutandsayingit.ButIjustwantedhimtoknowthatIthoughthewasstrongenoughtosurvivewhateverwasgoingonin
hislife.Ididn’tknowhimwell,butIcouldtellhewasresilient.WaymorethanIwouldeverbeifIwereinhissituation.
Hiseyesweregluedtothetree.Itwasalongtimebeforeheevenblinked.Whenhefinallydid,hejustnoddedalittleandlookeddownatthegrass.Ithoughtwiththewayhismouth
twitchedthathewasabouttofrown,butinsteadheactuallysmiledalittle.
SeeingthatsmilemademyheartfeellikeIhadjuststartleditrightoutofadeadsleep.
“We’rejustalike,”hesaid,repeatinghimselffromearlier.
“Plantsandhumans?”Iasked.
Heshookhishead.“No.Meandyou.”
Igasped,Ellen.Ihopehedidn’tnotice,butIdefinitelysuckedinarushofair.BecausewhattheheckwasIsupposedtosaytothat?
Ijustsatthere,reallyawkwardandquietuntilhestoodup.Heturnedlikehewasabouttowalkhome.
“Atlas,wait.”
Heglancedbackdownatme.Ipointedathishandsandsaid,“Youmightwanttotakeaquickshowerbeforeyougoback.Compostismadefromcowmanure.”
Heliftedhishandsandlookeddownatthemandthenhelookeddownathiscompost-coveredclothes.
“Cowmanure?Seriously?”
Igrinnedandnodded.HelaughedalittleandthenbeforeIknewit,hewasonthegroundnexttome,wipinghishandsalloverme.Wewerebothlaughingashereachedtothebagnexttous
andstuckhishandinside,thensmeareditdownmyarms.
Ellen,IamconfidentthatthenextsentenceIamabouttowritehasneverbeenwrittenorspokenaloudbefore.
Whenhewaswipingthatcowshitonme,itwasquitepossiblythemostturned-onIhaveeverbeen.
Afterafewminutes,wewerebothlyingontheground,breathinghard,stilllaughing.Hefinallystoodupandpulledmetomyfeet,knowinghecouldn’twasteminutesifhewanteda
showerbeforemyparentscamehome.
Oncehewasintheshower,Iwashedmyhandsinthesinkandjuststoodthere,wonderingwhathemeantearlierwhenhesaidwewerejustalike.
Wasitacompliment?Itsurefeltlikeone.WashesayingthathethoughtIwasstrong,too?BecauseIcertainlydidn’tfeelstrongmostofthetime.Inthatmoment,justthinkingabout
himmademefeelweak.IwonderedwhatIwasgoingtodoaboutthewayIwasstartingtofeelwhenIwasaroundhim.
IalsowonderedhowlongIcankeephidinghimfrommyparents.Andhowlonghe’llbestayingatthathouse.WintersinMaineareunbearablycoldandhewon’tsurvivewithouta
heater.
Orblankets.
IgatheredmyselfandwentinsearchofallthespareblanketsIcouldfind.Iwasgoingtogivethemtohimwhenhegotoutoftheshower,butitwasalreadyfiveandheleftina
hurry.
I’llgivethemtohimtomorrow.
—Lily
DearEllen,
HarryConnickJr.isfreakinghilarious.I’mnotsureifyou’veeverhadhimonyourshow,becauseIhatetoadmitI’veprobablymissedanepisodeortwosinceyou’ve
beenontheair,butifyou’veneverhadhim,youshould.Actually,haveyoueverwatchedLateNightwithConanO’Brien?HehasthisguynamedAndywhositsonthecouchfor
everyepisode.IwishHarrycouldsitonyourcouchforeveryepisode.Hejusthasthebestone-liners,andthetwoofyoutoget.herwouldbeepic.
Ijustwanttosaythankyou.Iknowthatyoudon’thaveashowonTVforthesolepurposeofmakingmelaugh,butsometimesitfeelsthatway.Sometimesmylifejustmakesmefeellike
I’velosttheabilitytolaughorsmile,butthenIturnonyourshowandnomatterwhatmoodI’minwhenIturnontheTV,Ialwaysfeelbetterbythetimeyourshowisover.
Soyeah.Thanksforthat.
IknowyouprobablywantanupdateonAtlas,andI’llgiveyouoneinasecond.ButfirstIneedtotellyouaboutwhathappenedyesterday.
MymotherisateachingassistantoveratBrimerElementary.It’sabitofadriveandthat’swhyshenevergetshomeuntilaroundfiveo’clock.Mydadworkstwomilesfrom
here,sohe’salwayshomerightafterfive.
Wehaveagarage,butonlyonecarcanfitinitbecauseofallmydad’sstuff.Mydadkeepshiscarinthegarageandmymomkeepshercarinthedriveway.
Well,yesterdaymymomgothomealittlebitearly.AtlaswasstillatthehouseandwewerealmostfinishedwatchingyourshowwhenIheardthegaragedoorstarttoopen.Heranouttheback
doorandIrushedaroundthelivingroomcleaningupoursodacansandsnacks
Ithadstartedsnowingreallyhardaroundlunchtimeyesterdayandmymotherhadalotofstufftocarryin,soshepulledupinthegaragesoshecouldbringitallinthroughthekitchen
door.Itwasworkstuffandafewgroceries.Iwashelpingherbringeverythinginsidewhenmydadpulledupinthedriveway.Hestartedhonkinghishornbecausehewasmadthatmymomwasparked
inthegarage.Iguesshedidn’twanttohavetogetoutofhiscarinthesnow.That’stheonlythingIcanthinkofthatwouldmakehimwanthertomovehercarrightthenandthere,
insteadofjustwaitinguntilshewasfinishedunloadingit.Cometothinkofit,whydoesmyfatheralwaysgetthegarage?Youwouldthinkamanwouldn’twantthewomanhelovestogetthe
shittierparkingspot.
Anyway,mymothergotthatrealscaredlookinhereyewhenhestartedhonkingandshetoldmetotakeallherstufftothetablewhileshemovedhercarout.
I’mnotsurewhathappenedwhenshewentbackoutside.Iheardacrash,andthenIheardherscream,soIrantothegaragethinkingmaybeshehadslippedonice.
Ellen…Idon’tevenwanttodescribewhathappenednext.I’mstillalittleshockedbythewholething.
Iopenedthegaragedooranddidn’tseemymom.Ijustsawmydadbehindthecardoingsomething.ItookastepcloserandrealizedwhyIcouldn’tseemymom.Hehadherpushed
downonthehoodwithhishandsaroundherthroat.
Hewaschokingher,Ellen!
Imightcryjustthinkingaboutit.Hewasyellingather,staringdownatherwithsomuchhatred.Somethingaboutnothavingrespectforhowhardheworks.Idon’tknowwhyhewas
mad,really,becauseallIcouldhearwashersilencewhileshestruggledtobreathe.Thenextfewminutesareablur,butIknowIstartedscreamingathim.IjumpedonhisbackandIwashitting
himonthesideofhishead.
ThenIwasn’t.
Idon’treallyknowwhathappened,butI’mguessinghethrewmeoffofhim.IjustrememberedonesecondIwasonhisbackandthenextsecondIwasonthegroundandmyforehead
hurtlikeyouwouldn’tbelieve.Mymomwassittingnexttome,holdingmyheadandtellingmeshewassorry.Ilookedaroundformydad,buthewasn’tthere.He’dgottenintohis
caranddroveoffafterIhitmyhead.
Mymomgavemearagandtoldmetoholdittomyheadbecauseitwasbleedingandthenshehelpedmetohercaranddrovemetothehospital.Onthewaytheresheonlysaidonethingto
me.
“Whentheyaskyouwhathappened,tellthemyouslippedontheice.”
Whenshesaidthat,Ijustlookedoutmywindowandstartedcrying.BecauseIthoughtforsurethiswasthefinalstraw.Thatshewouldleavehimnowthathehadhurtme.Thatwasthemoment
Irealizedthatshe’dneverleavehim.Ifeltsodefeated,butIwastooscaredtosayanythingtoheraboutit.
Ihadtogetninestitchesinmyforehead.I’mstillnotsurewhatIhitmyheadon,butitdoesn’treallymatter.Thefactis,myfatherwasthereasonIwashurtandhe
didn’tevenstayandcheckonme.Hejustleftusboththereonthefloorofthegarageandleft.
Igothomereallylatelastnightandfellrighttosleepbecausetheyhadgivenmesomekindofpainpill.
ThismorningwhenIwalkedtothebus,ItriednottolookdirectlyatAtlassohewouldn’tseemyforehead.Ihadfixedmyhairsothatyoucouldn’treallyseeitandhe
didn’tnoticerightaway.Whenwesatdownnexttoeachotheronthebus,ourhandstouchedwhenwewereputtingourstuffonthefloor.
Hishandswerelikeice,Ellen.Ice.
That’swhenIrealizedthatIforgottogivehimtheblanketsIhadpulledoutforhimyesterdaybecausemymothergothomesoonerthanIexpected.Theincidentinthegaragesortof
tookoverallmythoughtsandIcompletelyforgotabouthim.Ithadsnowedandicedallnightandhehadbeenoverthereatthathouseinthedarkallbyhimself.Andnowhewassocold,I
didn’tknowhowhewasevenfunctioning.
Igrabbedbothofhishandsinmineandsaid,“Atlas.You’refreezing.”
Hedidn’tsayanything.Ijuststartedrubbinghishandsinminetowarmthemup.IlaidmyheadonhisshoulderandthenIdidthemostembarrassingthing.Ijuststartedtocry.I
don’tcryverymuch,butIwasstillsoupsetbywhathappenedyesterdayandthenIwasfeelingsoguiltythatIforgottotakehimblanketsanditallhitmerightthereontherideto
school.Hedidn’tsayanything.HejustpulledhishandsfromminesoI’dstoprubbingthemandthenhelaidhishandsontopofmine.Wejustsattherelikethatthewholerideto
schoolwithourheadsleanedtogetherandhishandsontopofmine.
Imighthavethoughtitwassweetifitwasn’tsosad.Ontheridehomefromschooliswhenhefinallynoticedmyhead.
Honestly,Ihadforgottenaboutit.Nooneatschoolevenaskedmeaboutitandwhenhesatdownnexttomeonthebus,Iwasn’teventryingtohideitwithmyhair.Helookedrightat
meandsaid,“Whathappenedtoyourhead?”
Ididn’tknowwhattosaytohim.Ijusttoucheditwithmyfingersandthenlookedoutthewindow.I’vebeentryingtogethimtotrustmemoreinhopeshewouldtellmewhyhe
doesn’thaveaplacetolive,soIdidn’twanttolietohim.Ijustdidn’twanttotellhimthetruth,either.
Whenthebusstartedmoving,hesaid,“YesterdayafterIleftyourhouse,Iheardsomethinggoingonoverthere.Iheardyelling.Iheardyouscream,andthenIsawyourfatherleave.I
wasgoingtocomecheckonyoutomakesureeverythingwasokay,butasIwaswalkingoverIsawyouleavinginthecarwithyourmother.”
Hemusthaveheardthefightinthegarageandsawherleavingtotakemetogetthestitches.Icouldn’tbelievehecameovertoourhouse.Doyouknowwhatmydadwoulddotohimif
hesawhimwearinghisclothes?IgotsoworriedforhimbecauseIdon’tthinkheknowswhatmyfatheriscapableof.
Ilookedathimandsaid,“Atlas,youcan’tdothat!Youcan’tcometomyhousewhenmyparentsarehome!”
Atlasgotrealquietandthensaid,“Iheardyouscream,Lily.”Hesaiditlikemebeingindangertrumpedanythingelse.
IfeltbadbecauseIknowhewasjusttryingtohelp,butthatwouldhavemadethingssomuchworse.
“Ifell,”Isaidtohim.AssoonasIsaidit,Ifeltbadforlying.Andtobehonest,helookedalittledisappointedinme,becauseIthinkwebothknewinthatmomentthatit
wasn’tassimpleasafall.
Thenhepulledupthesleeveofhisshirtandheldouthisarm.
Ellen,mystomachdropped.Itwassobad.Alloverhisarmhehadthesesmallscars.Someofthescarslookedjustlikesomeonehadstuckacigarettetohisarmandhelditthere.
HetwistedhisarmaroundsoIcouldseethatitwasontheotherside,too.“Iusedtofallalot,too,Lily.”Thenhepulledhisshirtsleevedownanddidn’tsayanything
else.
ForasecondIwantedtotellhimitwasn’tlikethat—thatmydadneverhurtsmeandthathewasjusttryingtogetmeoffofhim.ButthenIrealizedI’dbeusingthesame
excusesmymomuses.
Ifeltalittleembarrassedthatheknowswhatgoesonatmyhouse.IspentthewholerestofthebusridelookingoutthewindowbecauseIdidn’tknowwhattosaytohim.
Whenwegothome,mymom’scarwasthere.Inthedriveway,ofcourse.Notthegarage.
ThatmeantAtlascouldn’tcomeoverandwatchyourshowwithme.IwasgonnatellhimIwouldbringhimblanketslater,butwhenhegotoffthebushedidn’teventellmebye.He
juststartedwalkingdownthestreetlikehewasmad.
It’sdarknowandI’mwaitingonmyparentstogotosleep.ButinalittlewhileI’mgonnatakehimsomeblankets.
—Lily
DearEllen,
I’minwayovermyhead.
Doyoueverdothingsyouknowarewrong,butaresomehowalsoright?Idon’tknowhowtoputitinsimplertermsthanthat.
Imean,I’monlyfifteenandIcertainlyshouldn’thaveboysspendingthenightinmybedroom.Butifapersonknowssomeoneneedsaplacetostay,isn’titthat
person’sresponsibilityasahumantohelpthem?
Lastnightaftermyparentswenttosleep,IsnuckoutthebackdoortotakeAtlasthoseblankets.Itookaflashlightwithmebecauseitwasdark.Itwasstillsnowingreallyhard,sobythe
timeImadeittothathouse,Iwasfreezing.Ibeatonthebackdoorandassoonasheopenedit,Ipushedpasthimtogetoutofthecold.
Only…Ididn’tgetoutofthecold.Somehow,itfeltevencolderinsidethatoldhouse.IstillhadmyflashlightonandIshineditaroundthelivingroomand
kitchen.Therewasn’tanythinginthere,Ellen!
Nocouch,nochair,nomattress.Ihandedtheblanketsofftohimandkeptlookingaroundme.Therewasabigholeintheroofoverthekitchenandwindandsnowwerejustpouringin.WhenI
shinedmylightaroundthelivingroom,Isawhisstuffinoneofthecorners.Hisbackpack,plusthebackpackI’dgivenhim.TherewasalittlepileofotherstuffI’dgivenhim,like
someofmydad’sclothes.Andthenthereweretwotowelsonthefloor.OneIguesshelaidonandonehecoveredupwith.
IputmyhandovermymouthbecauseIwassohorrified.He’dbeentherelivinglikethatforweeks!
Atlasputhishandonmybackandtriedtowalkmebackoutthedoor.“Youshouldn’tbeoverhere,Lily,”hesaid.“Youcouldgetintrouble.”
That’swhenIgrabbedhishandandsaid,“Youshouldn’tbehere,either.”Istartedtopullhimoutthefrontdoorwithme,butheyankedhishandback.That’s
whenIsaid,“Youcansleeponmyfloortonight.I’llkeepmybedroomdoorlocked.Youcan’tsleephere,Atlas.It’stoocoldandyou’llgetpneumoniaand
die.”
Helookedlikehedidn’tknowwhattodo.I’msurethethoughtofbeingcaughtinmybedroomwasjustasscaryasgettingpneumoniaanddying.Helookedbackathisspotinthe
livingroomandthenhejustnoddedhisheadonceandsaid,“Okay.”
Soyoutellme,Ellen.WasIwronglettinghimsleepinmyroom
lastnight?Itdoesn’tfeelwrong.Itfeltliketherightthingtodo.ButIsurewouldgetinalotoftroubleifwehadbeencaught.Hesleptonthefloor,soit’snotlikeit
wasanythingmorethanmejustgivinghimsomewherewarmtosleep.
Ididlearnalittlemoreabouthimlastnight.AfterIsnuckhiminthebackdoorandtomyroom,Ilockedmydoorandmadeapalletforhimonthefloornexttomybed.Isetthealarmfor
6a.m.andtoldhimhe’dhavetogetupandleavebeforemyparentswokeup,sincesometimesmymomwakesmeupinthemornings.
IcrawledinmybedandscootedovertotheedgeofitsoIcouldlookdownathimwhilewetalkedforalittlewhile.Iaskedhimhowlonghethoughthemightstaythereandhesaidhe
didn’tknow.That’swhenIaskedhimhowheendedupthere.Mylampwasstillon,andwewerewhispering,buthegotrealquietwhenIsaidthat.Hejuststaredupatmewithhishands
behindhisheadforamoment.Thenhesaid,“Idon’tknowmyrealdad.Heneverhadanythingtodowithme.It’salwaysjustbeenmeandmymom,butshegotremarriedaboutfive
yearsagotoaguywhoneverreallylikedmemuch.Wefoughtalot.WhenIturnedeighteenafewmonthsago,wegotinabigfightandhekickedmeoutofthehouse.”
Hetookadeepbreathlikehedidn’twanttotellmeanymore.Butthenhestartedtalkingagain.“I’vebeenstayingwithafriendofmineandhisfamilysincethen,buthis
dadgotatransfertoColoradoandtheymoved.Theycouldn’ttakemewiththem,ofcourse.HisparentswerejustbeingnicebylettingmestaywiththemandIknewthat,soItoldthemI
talkedtomymomandthatIwasmovingbackhome.Thedaytheyleft,Ididn’thaveanywheretogo.SoIwentbackhomeandtoldmymomI’dliketomovebackinuntilIgraduated.She
wouldn’tletme.Saiditwouldupsetmystepfather.”
Heturnedhisheadandlookedatthewall.“SoIjustwanderedaroundforafewdaysuntilIsawthathouse.FiguredIwouldjuststaythereuntilsomethingbettercamealongoruntilI
graduated.I’msigneduptogototheMarinescomeMay,soI’mjusttryingtohangonuntilthen.”
Mayissixmonthsaway,Ellen.Six.
Ihadtearsinmyeyeswhenhefinishedtellingmeallthat.Iaskedhimwhyhedidn’tjustasksomeoneiftheycouldhelphim.Hesaidhetried,butit’sharderforanadultthan
akid,andhe’salreadyeighteen.Hesaidsomeonegavehimanumberforsomeshelterswhomighthelphim.Therewerethreesheltersinatwenty-mileradiusofourtown,buttwoofthemwere
forbatteredwomen.Theotheronewasahomelessshelter,buttheyonlyhadafewbedsanditwastoofarawayforhimtowalkthereifhewantedtogotoschooleveryday.Plus,youhavetowait
inalonglinetotryandgetabed.Hesaidhetrieditonce,buthefeelssaferinthatoldhousethanhedidattheshelter.
Likethena?vegirlIamwhenitcomestosituationslikehis,Isaid,“Butaren’tthereotheroptions?Can’tyoujusttelltheschoolcounselorwhatyourmom
did?”
Heshookhisheadandsaidhe’stoooldforfostercare.He’seighteen,sohismothercan’tgetintroublefornotallowinghimtogobackhome.Hesaidhecalledabout
gettingfoodstampslastweek,buthedidn’thavearideormoneytogettohisappointment.Nottomentionhedoesn’thaveacar,sohecan’tverywellfindajob.Hesaid
he’sbeenlooking,though.Afterheleavesmyhouseintheafternoonshegoesandappliesatplaces,buthedoesn’thaveanaddressoraphonenumbertoputdownontheapplicationsso
thatmakesitharderforhim.
Iswear,Ellen,everyquestionIthrewathim,hehadananswerfor.It’slikehe’striedeverythingnottobestuckinthesituationhe’sin,butthereisn’tenough
helpoutthereforpeoplelikehim.Igotsomadathiswholesituation,Itoldhimhewascrazyforwantingtogointothemilitary.Iwasn’tsomuchwhisperingwhenIsaid,“Whyin
theheckwouldyouwanttoserveacountrythathasallowedyoutoendupinthiskindofsituation?”
Youknowwhathesaidnext,Ellen?Hiseyesgrewsadandhesaid,“It’snotthiscountry’sfaultmymotherdoesn’tgiveashitaboutme.”Thenhereachedupand
turnedoffmylamp.“Goodnight,Lily,”hesaid.
Ididn’tsleepmuchafterthat.Iwastoomad.I’mnotevensurewhoI’mmadat.Ijustkeptthinkingaboutourcountryandthewholeworldandhowscrewedupitisthat
peopledon’tdomoreforeachother.Idon’tknowwhenhumansstartedonlylookingoutforthemselves.Maybeit’salwaysbeenthisway.Itmademewonderhowmanypeopleoutthere
werejustlikeAtlas.Itmademewonderiftherewereotherkidsatourschoolwhomightbehomeless.
Igotoschooleverydayandinternallycomplainaboutitmostofthetime,butI’veneveroncethoughtthatschoolmightbetheonlyhomesomekidshave.It’stheonlyplace
Atlascangoandknowhe’llhavefood.
I’llneverbeabletorespectrichpeoplenow,knowingtheywillinglychoosetospendtheirmoneyonmaterialisticthingsratherthanusingittohelpotherpeople.
Nooffense,Ellen.Iknowyou’rerich,butIguessI’mnotreferringtopeoplelikeyou.I’veseenallthestuffyou’vedoneforothersonyourshowandallthe
charitiesyousupport.ButIknowtherearealotofrichpeopleouttherewhoareselfish.Hell,thereareevenselfishpoorpeople.Andselfishmiddle-classpeople.Lookatmyparents.We
aren’trich,butwecertainlyaren’ttoopoortohelpotherpeople.Yet,Idon’tthinkmydadhaseverdoneanythingforacharity.
IrememberonetimewewerewalkingintoagrocerystoreandanoldmanwasringingabellfortheSalvationArmy.Iaskedmydadifwecouldgivehimsomemoneyandhetoldmeno,thathe
workshardforhismoneyandhewasn’tabouttoletmegiveitaway.Hesaiditisn’thisfaultthatotherpeopledon’twanttowork.Hespentthewholetimewewereinthe
grocerystoretellingmeabouthowpeopletakeadvantageofthegovernmentanduntilthegovernmentstopshelpingthosepeoplebygivingthemhandouts,theproblemwon’tevergoaway.
Ellen,Ibelievedhim.ThatwasthreeyearsagoandallthistimeIthoughthomelesspeoplewerehomelessbecausetheywerelazyordrugaddictsorjustdidn’twanttoworklikeother
people.ButnowIknowthat’snottrue.Sure,someofwhathesaidwastruetoanextent,buthewasusingtheworst-casescenarios.Noteveryoneishomelessbecausetheychoosetobe.
They’rehomelessbecausethereisn’tenoughhelptogoaround.
Andpeoplelikemyfatheraretheproblem.Insteadofhelpingothers,peopleusetheworst-casescenariostoexcusetheirownselfishnessandgreed.
I’llneverbelikethat.Isweartoyou,whenIgrowup,I’mgoingtodoeverythingIcantohelpotherpeople.I’llbelikeyou,Ellen.Justprobablynotasrich.
—LilyChapterNine
Idropthejournalonmychest.I’msurprisedtofeeltearsrunningdownmycheeks.EverytimeIpickupthisjournalIthinkI’llbefine—thatitall
happenedsolongagoandIwon’tstillfeelwhatIfeltbackthen.
I’msuchasap.Itgivesmethislongingtohugsomanypeoplefrommypast.Especiallymymotherbecauseforthepastyear,Ihaven’treallythoughtabouteverythingshehadtogo
throughbeforemyfatherdied.Iknowitprobablystillhurtsher.
Igrabmyphonetocallherandlookatthescreen.TherearefourmissedtextsfromRyle.Myheartimmediatelyskips.Ican’tbelieveIhaditonsilent!ThenIrollmyeyes,
annoyedwithmyself,becauseIshouldnotbethisexcited.
Ryle:Areyouasleep?
Ryle:Iguessso.
Ryle:Lily…
Ryle.:(
Thesadfacewassenttenminutesago.IhitReplyandtype,“Nope.Notasleep.”Abouttensecondslater,Igetanothertext.
Ryle:Good.I’mwalkingupyourstairsrightnow.Bethereintwentyseconds.
Igrinandjumpoutofbed.Igotothebathroomandcheckmyface.Goodenough.IruntothefrontdoorandopenitassoonasRylemakesitupthestairwell.Hepracticallydrags
himselfupthetopstep,andthenstopstorestwhenhefinallyreachesmydoor.Helookssotired.Hiseyesareredandtherearedarkcirclesunderthem.Hisarmssliparoundmywaistandhe
pullsmetohim,buryinghisfaceinmyneck.
“Yousmellsogood,”hesays.
Ipullhiminsidetheapartment.“Areyouhungry?Icanmakeyousomethingtoeat.”
Heshakeshisheadashewrestlesoutofhisjacket,soIskipthekitchenandheadforthebedroom.Hefollowsme,andthenthrowshisjacketoverthebackofthechair.Hekicksoffhisshoes
andpushesthemagainstthewall.
He’swearingscrubs.
“Youlookexhausted,”Isay.
Hesmilesandputshishandsonmyhips.“Iam.Ijustassistedinaneighteen-hoursurgery.”Hebendsdownandkissesthehearttattooonmycollarbone.
Nowonderhe’sexhausted“Howisthatevenpossible?”Isay.“Eighteenhours?”
Henodsandthenwalksmetothesideofthebedwherehepullsmedownnexttohim.Weadjustourselvesuntilwe’refacingeachother,sharingapillow.“Yeah,butitwasamazing.
Groundbreaking.They’llwriteaboutitinmedicaljournals,andIgottobethere,soI’mnotcomplaining.I’mjustreallytired.”
Ileaninandgivehimapeckonthemouth.Hebringshishandtothesideofmyheadandpullsback.“Iknowyou’reprobablyreadytohavehot,sweatysex,butIdon’thave
theenergytonight.I’msorry.ButI’vemissedyouandforsomereasonIsleepbetterwhenIsleepnexttoyou.IsitokaythatI’mhere?”
Ismile.“It’smorethanokay.”
Heleansinandkissesmyforehead.Hegrabsmyhandandthenholdsitbetweenusonthepillow.Hiseyesclose,butIkeepmineopenandstareathim.Hehasthetypeoffacethatpeopleshy
awayfrom,becauseyoucouldgetlostinit.Andtothink,Igettolookatthisfaceallthetime.Idon’thavetobemodestandlookaway,becausehe’smine.
Maybe.
Thisisatrialrun.Ihavetorememberthat.
Afteraminute,hereleasesmyhandandbeginstoflexhisfingers.Ilookdownathishandandwonderwhatthatmustbelike…tohavetostandforsolonganduseyourfine
motorskillsforeighteenhoursstraight.Ican’tthinkofmuchelsethatwouldmatchthatlevelofexhaustion.
Islideoutofthebedandretrievesomelotionoutofmybathroom.Igobacktothebedandsitcross-leggednexttohim.Isquirtsomelotiononmyhandandthenpullhisarmtomylap.He
openshiseyesandlooksupatme.
“Whatareyoudoing?”hemumbles.
“Shh.Gobacktosleep,”Isay.Ipressmythumbsintothepalmofhishandandrotatethemupwardandthenout.Hiseyesfallshutandhegroansintothepillow.Icontinue
massaginghishandforaboutfiveminutesbeforeswitchingtohisotherhand.Hekeepshiseyesclosedthewholetime.WhenI’mfinishedwithhishands,Irollhimontohisstomachand
straddlehisback.Heassistsmeinpullingoffhisshirt,buthisarmsarelikenoodles.
Imassagehisshouldersandhisneckandhisbackandhisarms.WhenI’mfinished,Irolloffofhimandliedownbesidehim.
I’mrunningmyfingersthroughhishairandmassaginghisscalpwhenheopenshiseyes.“Lily?”hewhispers,lookingatmesincerely.“Youjustmightbethebestthing
that’severhappenedtome.”
Thosewordswraparoundmelikeawarmblanket.Idon’tknowwhattosayinresponse.Heliftsahandandgentlycupsmycheek,andIfeelhisstaredeepinmystomach.Slowly,heleans
forwardandpresseshislipstomine.Iexpectapeck,buthedoesn’tpullback.Thetipofhistongueslidesacrossmylips,partingthemsoftly.Hismouthissowarm,Imoanashiskiss
growsdeeper.
Herollsmeontomybackandthendragshishanddownmybody,straighttomyhip.Hemovescloser,slidinghishanddownmythigh.Hepushesagainstmeandasurgeofheatshootsinsideme.I
grabafistfulofhishairandwhisperagainsthismouth.“Ithinkwe’vewaitedlongenough.Iwouldverymuchlikeforyoutofuckmenow.”
Hepracticallygrowlswitharenewedsenseofenergyandbeginstopullmyshirtoff.Itbecomesaninterludeofhandsandmoansandtonguesandsweat.Ifeellikethisisthefirsttime
I’veeverbeentouchedbyaman.Thefewwhocamebeforehimwereallboys—nervoushandsandtimidmouths.ButRyleisallconfidence.Heknowsexactlywheretotouchmeandexactlyhow
tokissme
Theonlytimehe’snotgivingmybodyhisundividedattentioniswhenhereachestothefloorandfishesacondomoutofhiswallet.Oncehe’sbackunderthecoversandthecondomis
inplace,hedoesn’tevenhesitate.HetakesmebrazenlyinoneswiftthrustandIgaspintohismouth,everymuscleinmetensing.
Hismouthisfierceandneedy,kissingmeeverywherehecanreach.Igrowsodizzy,Icandonothingbutsuccumbtohim.He’sunapologeticinthewayhefucksme.Hishandcomesbetweenmy
headboardandthetopofmyheadashepushesharderandharder,thebedcrashingagainstthewallwitheverypush.
Myfingernailsdigintotheskinofhisbackasheburieshisfaceagainstmyneck.
“Ryle,”Iwhisper.
“Oh,God,”Isay.
“Ryle!”Iscream.
AndthenIbitedownonhisshouldertomuffleeverysoundthatcomesafterit.Mywholebodyfeelsit—frommyheadtomytoesandbackupagain.
I’mafraidImightliterallypassoutforamoment,soItightenmylegsaroundhimandhetenses.“Jesus,Lily.”Hisbodyrippleswithtremors,andheshovesagainstme
onelasttime.Hegroans,stillinghimselfontopofme.Hisbodyjerkswithhisreleaseandmyheadfallsbackagainstthepillow.
It’safullminutebeforeeitherofusisabletomove.Andeventhen,wechoosenotto.Hepresseshisfaceintothepillowandletsoutadeepsigh.“I
can’t…”Hepullsbackandlooksdownatme.Hiseyesarefullofsomething…Idon’tknowwhat.Hepresseshislipstomineandthensays,
“Youweresoright.”
“Aboutwhat?”
Heslowlypullsoutofme,comingdownonhisforearms.“Youwarnedme.Yousaidonetimewithyouwouldn’tbeenough.Yousaidyouwerelikeadrug.Butyoufailedtotellmeyou
werethemostaddictivekind.”ChapterTen
“CanIaskyouapersonalquestion?”
Allysanodsassheperfectsabouquetofflowersabouttogooutfordelivery.We’rethreedaysawayfromourgrandopening,anditjustkeepsgettingbusierbytheday.
“Whatisit?”Allysaasks,facingme.Sheleansintothecounterandstartspickingatherfingernails.
“Youdon’thavetoansweritifyoudon’twantto,”Iwarn.“WellIcan’tansweritifyoudon’taskit.”
That’sagoodpoint.“DoyouandMarshalldonatetocharity?”
Confusioncrossesherfaceandshesays,“Yeah.Why?”
Ishrug.“Iwasjustcurious.Iwouldn’tjudgeyouoranything.I’vejustbeenthinkinglatelyabouthowImightliketostartacharity.”
“Whatkindofcharity?”sheasks.“Wedonatetoafewdifferentonesnowthatwehavemoney,butmyfavoriteisthisonewegotinvolvedwithlastyear.Theybuildschoolsin
othercountries.We’vefundedthreenewconstructionsinthepastyearalone.”
IknewIlikedherforareason.
“Idon’thavethatkindofmoney,obviously,butI’dliketodosomething.Ijustdon’tknowwhatyet.”
“Let’sgetthroughthisgrandopeningfirstandthenyoucanstartthinkingaboutphilanthropy.Onedreamatatime,Lily.”Shewalksaroundthecounterandgrabsthetrash
can.Iwatchasshepullsthefullbagoutofitandtiesitinaknot.Itmakesmewonderwhy—ifshehaspeopleforeverything—shewouldevenwantajobwhereshehadtotakeoutthe
trashandgetherhandsdirty.
“Whydoyouworkhere?”Iaskher.
Sheglancesupatmeandsmiles.“BecauseIlikeyou,”shesays.ButthenInoticethesmilecompletelyleavehereyesrightbeforesheturnsandwalkstowardthebacktothrowout
thetrash.Whenshecomesback,I’mstillwatchinghercuriously.Isayitagain.
“Allysa?Whydoyouworkhere?”
Shestopswhatshe’sdoingandtakesinaslowbreathlikemaybeshe’scontemplatingbeinghonestwithme.Shewalksbacktothecounterandleansagainstit,crossingherfeetat
herankles.
“Because,”shesays,lookingdownatherfeet.“Ican’tgetpregnant.We’vebeentryingfortwoyearsbutnothinghasworked.Iwastiredofsittingathomecrying
allthetime,soIdecidedIshouldfindsomethingtokeepmymindbusy.”Shestandsupstraightandwipesherhandsacrossherjeans.“Andyou,LilyBloom,arekeepingmevery
busy.”Sheturnsandstartsmessingwiththesamebouquetofflowersagain.She’sbeenperfectingthemforhalfanhour.Shepicksupacardandstuffsitintheflowers,andthenturns
aroundandhandsmethevase.“Theseareforyou,bytheway.”
It’sobviousAllysawantstochangethesubject,soItaketheflowersfromher.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Sherollshereyesandwavesmeofftomyoffice.“It’sonthecard.Goreadit.”
Icantellbyherannoyedreactionthatthey’refromRyle.Igrinandruntomyoffice.Itakeaseatatmydeskandpulloutthecard.
Lily,
I’mhavingseriouswithdrawals.
—Ryle
Ismileandputthecardbackintheenvelope.Igrabmyphoneandsnapapictureofmeholdingtheflowerswithmytonguestickingout.ItextittoRyle.
Me:Itriedtowarnyou.
Heimmediatelystartstextingmeback.Iwatchanxiouslyasthedotsonmyphonemovebackandforth.
Ryle:Ineedmynextfix.I’llbefinishedhereinaboutthirtyminutes.CanItakeyoutodinner?
Me:Can’t.Momwantsmetotryanewrestaurantwithhertonight.She’sanobnoxiousfoodie.:(
Ryle:Ilikefood.Ieatfood.Whereareyoutakingher?
Me:AplacecalledBib’sonMarketson.
Ryle:Isthereroomforonemore?
Istareathistextforamoment.Hewantstomeetmymother?Wearen’tevenofficiallydating.Imean…Idon’tcareifhemeetsmymother.She
wouldlovehim.Buthewentfromnotwantinganythingtodowithrelationships,topossiblyagreeingtotest-driveone,tomeetingtheparents,allwithinfivedays?GoodGod.Ireally
amadrug.
Me:Sure.Meetusthereinhalfanhour
IwalkoutofmyofficeandstraightuptoAllysa.Iholdmyphoneinfrontofherface.“Hewantstomeetmymother.”
“Who?”
“Ryle.”
“Mybrother?”shesays,lookingasshockedasIfeel.Inod.“Yourbrother.Mymother.”
Shegrabsmyphoneandlooksatthetexts.“Huh.That’ssoweird.”
Itakemyphonefromherhands.“Thanksforthevoteofconfidence.”
Shelaughsandsays,“YouknowwhatImean.It’sRylewe’retalkingabouthere.He’snever,inthehistoryofbeingRyleKincaid,metagirl’sparents.”
Ofcoursehearinghersaythatmakesmesmile,butthenIwonderifmaybehe’sdoingthisjusttopleaseme.Ifmaybehe’sdoingthingshedoesn’treallywanttodojust
becauseheknowsIwantarelationship.
AndthenIsmileevenbigger,becauseisn’tthatwhatit’sallabout?Sacrificingforthepersonyoulikesothatyoucanseethemhappy?
“Yourbrothermustreallylikeme,”Isayteasingly.IlookbackupatAllysa,expectinghertolaugh,butthere’sasolemnlookonherface.
Shenodsandsays,“Yeah.I’mafraidhedoes.”Shegrabsherpursefrombeneaththecounterandsays,“I’mgonnaheadoutnow.Letmeknowhowitgoes,okay?”
ShemovespastmeandIwatchherasshemakesherwayoutthedoor,andthenIjuststareatthedoorforalongtime.
Itbothersmethatshedoesn’tseemexcitedabouttheprospectofmedatingRyle.Itmakesmewonderifthathasmoretodowithherfeelingstowardmeorherfeelingstowardhim.
???
Twentyminuteslater,Iflipthesigntoclosed.Justafewmoredays.Ilockthedoorandwalktomycar,butstopshortwhenIseesomeoneleaningagainstit.Ittakes
meamomenttorecognizehim.He’sfacingtheotherdirection,talkingonhiscellphone.
Ithoughthewasmeetingmeattherestaurant,butokay.
ThehornbeepsonmycarwhenIhittheUnlockbutton,andRylespinsaround.Hegrinswhenheseesme.“Yes,Iagree,”hesaysintothephone.Hewrapsanarmaroundmyshoulderand
pullsmeagainsthim,pressingakisstothetopofmyhead.“We’lltalkaboutittomorrow,”hesays.“Somethingreallyimportantjustcameup.”
Hehangsupthephoneandslidesitintohispocket,thenhekissesme.It’snotahellokiss.It’sanI’ve-been-thinking-about-you-nonstopkiss.Hewrapsbotharmsaroundme
andspinsmeuntilI’mbackedupagainstmycar,wherehecontinuestokissmeuntilIstarttofeeldizzyagain.Whenhepullsback,he’slookingdownatmeappreciatively.
“Youknowwhichpartofyoudrivesmethecraziest?”Hebringshisfingerstomymouthandtracesmysmile.“These,”hesays.“Yourlips.Ilovehowthey’re
asredasyourhairandyoudon’tevenhavetowearlipstick.”
Igrinandkisshisfingers.“Ibetterwatchyouaroundmymom,then,becauseeveryonesayswehavethesamemouth.”
Hepauseshisfingersagainstmylipsandhestopssmiling.“Lily.Just.no.”
Ilaughandopenmydoor.“Arewetakingseparatecars?”
Hepullsthedooropenformetherestofthewayandsays,“ItookanUberherefromwork.We’llridetogether.”
???
Mymotherisalreadyseatedatatablewhenwearrive.HerbackistothedoorasIleadtheway.
I’minstantlyimpressedbytherestaurant.Myeyesaredrawntothewarm,neutralcolorspaintedonthewallsandthealmostfull-sizedtreeinthemiddleoftherestaurant.Itlookslike
it’sgrowingstraightoutofthefloor,almostasiftheentirerestaurantwasdesignedaroundthetree.Rylefollowscloselybehindmewithhishandonmylowerback.Oncewereachthe
table,Ibegintopulloffmyjacket.“Hey,Mom.”
Shelooksupfromherphoneandsays,“Oh,hey,honey.”Shedropsherphoneinherpurseandwavesherhandaroundtherestaurant.“Ialreadyloveit.Lookatthe
lighting,”shesays,pointingup.“Thefixtureslooklikesomethingyou’dgrowinoneofyourgardens.”That’swhenshenoticesRyle,whoisstandingpatientlynextto
measIslideintothebooth.Mymothersmilesathimandsays,“We’lltaketwowatersfornow,please.”
MyeyesdarttoRyleandthenbacktomymother.“Mom.He’swithme.He’snotthewaiter.”
ShelooksupatRyleagainwithconfusion.Hejustsmilesandreachesouthishand.“Honestmistake,ma’am.I’mRyleKincaid.”
Shereturnsthehandshake,lookingbackandforthbetweenus.Hereleasesherhandandslidesintothebooth.Shelooksalittleflusteredwhenshefinallysays,“JennyBloom.Nicetomeet
you.”Sheplacesherattentionbackonmeandraisesaneyebrow.“Afriendofyours,Lily?”
Ican’tbelieveI’mnotbetterpreparedforthismoment.WhatintheheckdoIintroducehimas?Mytrialrun?Ican’tsayboyfriend,butIcan’tverywell
sayfriendProspectseemsalittledated.
Rylenoticesmypause,soheputshishandonmykneeandsqueezesreassuringly.“MysisterworksforLily,”hesays.“Haveyoumether?Allysa?”
Mymotherleansforwardinherboothandsays,“Oh!Yes!Ofcourse.Youtwolooksomuchalikenowthatyoumentionit,”shesays.“It’stheeyes,Ithink.Andthe
mouth.”
Henods.“Webothfavorourmother.”
Mymothersmilesatme.“PeoplealwayssaytheythinkLilyfavorsme.”
“Yes,”hesays.“Identicalmouths.Uncanny.”RylesqueezesmykneeunderthetableagainwhileItryandsuppressmylaughter.“Ladies,ifyou’llexcuseme,I
needtoheadtothegentlemen’sroom.”Heleansinandkissesmeonthesideoftheheadbeforestanding.“Ifthewaitercomes,I’lljusttakewater.”
Mymother’seyesfollowRyleashewalksaway,andthensheslowlyturnsbacktome.Shepointsatmeandthentohisemptyseat.“HowcomeIhaven’theardaboutthis
guy?”
Ismilealittle.“Thingsarekindof…it’snotreally…”Ihavenoideahowtoexplainoursituationtomymother.“Heworksa
lot,sowehaven’treallyspentthatmuchtimetogether.Atall.Thisisactuallythefirsttimewe’vebeentodinnertogether.”
Mymotherraisesaneyebrow.“Really?”shesays,leaningbackinherseat.“Hesuredoesn’ttreatitlikethat.Imean—heseemscomfortablyaffectionatewithyou.
Notnormalbehaviorwithsomeoneyou’vejustmet.”
“Wedidn’tjustmeet,”Isay.“It’sbeenalmostayearsincethefirsttimeImethim.Andwe’vespenttimetogether,justnotonadate.Heworksa
lot.”
“Wheredoeshework?”
“MassachusettsGeneralHospital.”
Mymotherleansforwardandhereyespracticallybulgefromherhead.“Lily!”shehisses.“He’sadoctor?”
Inod,suppressingmygrin.“Aneurosurgeon.”
“CanIgetyouladiessomethingtodrink?”awaiterasks.
“Yeah,”Isay.“We’lltakethree…”
AndthenIclampmymouthshut.
Istareatthewaiterandthewaiterstaresbackatme.Myheartisinmythroat.Ican’trememberhowtospeak.
“Lily?”mymothersays.Sheflicksherhandtowardthewaiter.“He’swaitingforyourdrinkorder.”
Ishakemyheadandbegintostutter.“I’ll…um…”“Threewaters,”mymothersays,interruptingmyfumbledwords.Thewaiter
snapsoutofhistrancelongenoughtotaphispencilonhispadofpaper.
“Threewaters,”hesays.“Gotit.”Heturnsandwalksaway,butIwatchasheglancesbackatmebeforepushingthroughthedoorstothekitchen.
Mymotherleansforwardandsays,“Whatintheworldiswrongwithyou?”
Ipointovermyshoulder.“Thewaiter,”Isay,shakingmyhead.“Helookedexactlylike…”
I’mabouttosay,“AtlasCorrigan,”whenRylewalksupandslidesbackintotheseat.
Heglancesbackandforthbetweenus.“What’dImiss?”
Iswallowhard,shakingmyhead.Surelythatwasn’treallyAtlas.Butthoseeyes—hismouth.Iknowit’sbeenyearssinceIsawhim,butI’llneverforgetwhathe
lookedlike.Ithadtobehim.IknowitwasandIknowherecognizedme,too,becausethesecondoureyesmet…itlookedlikehe’dseenaghost.
“Lily?”Rylesays,squeezingmyhand.“Youokay?”
Inodandforceasmile,thenclearmythroat.“Yep.Wewerejusttalkingaboutyou,”Isay,glancingbackatmymother.“Ryleassistedinaneighteen-hoursurgerythis
week.”
Mymotherleansforwardwithinterest.Rylebeginstotellherallaboutthesurgery.Ourwaterarrives,butit’sadifferentwaiterthistime.Heasksifwe’vehadachancetogo
overthemenuandthentellsusthechef’sspecials.ThethreeofusorderourfoodandI’mdoingeverythingIcantofocus,butmyattentionisallovertherestaurantlookingfor
Atlas.Ineedtoregroup.Afterafewminutes,IleanovertoRyle.“Ineedtoruntotherestroom.”
HestandsuptoletmeoutandmyeyesarescanningthefaceofeverywaiterasImakemywayacrosstheroom.Ipushthroughthedoortothehallwaythatleadstotherestrooms.Assoonas
I’malone,mybackmeetsthewallofthehallway.Ileanforwardandreleaseahugebreath.Idecidetotakeamomentandregainmycomposurebeforeheadingbackoutthere.Ibringmyhands
uptomyforeheadandclosemyeyes.
FornineyearsI’vewonderedwhathappenedtohim.Years.
“Lily?”
Iglanceupandsuckinabreath.He’sstandingattheendofthehallwaylikeaghoststraightoutofthepast.Myeyestraveltohisfeettomakesurehe’snotsuspendedinthe
air.
Heisn’t.He’sreal,andhe’sstandingrightinfrontofme.
Istaypressedagainstthewall,notsurewhattosaytohim.“Atlas?”
AssoonasIsayhisname,heblowsoutaquickbreathofreliefandthentakesthreehugestepsforward.Icatchmyselfdoingthesame.Wemeetinthemiddleandthrowourarmsaroundeach
other.“Holyshit,”hesays,holdingmeinatightembrace.
Inod.“Yeah.Holyshit.”
Heputshishandsonmyshouldersandtakesastepbacktolookatme.“Youhaven’tchangedatall.”
Icovermymouthwithmyhand,stillinshock,andgivehimtheonce-over.Hisfacelooksthesame,buthe’snolongerthescrawnyteenagerIremember.“Ican’tsaythesame
foryou.”
Helooksdownathimselfandlaughs.“Yeah,”hesays.“Eightyearsinthemilitarywilldothattoya.”
We’rebothinshock,sonothingissaidrightafterthat.Wejustkeepshakingourheadsindisbelief.HelaughsandthenIlaugh.Finally,hereleasesmyshouldersandfoldshisarmsover
hischest.“WhatbringsyoutoBoston?”heasks.
Hesaysitsocasually,andI’mthankfulforthat.Maybehedoesn’trememberourconversationallthoseyearsagoaboutBoston,whichwouldsavemealotofembarrassment.
“Ilivehere,”Isay,forcingmyanswertosoundascasualashisquestion.“IownaflowershopoveronParkPlaza.”
Hesmilesknowingly,likeitdoesn’tatallsurprisehim.Iglancetowardthedoor,knowingIshouldgetbackoutthere.Henoticesandthentakesanotherstepback.Heholdsmygazefora
momentanditgetsreallyquiet.Waytooquiet.There’ssomuchtosaybutneitherofusevenknowswheretostart.Thesmileleaveshiseyesforamomentandthenhemotionstowardthedoor.
“Youshouldprobablygetbacktoyourcompany,”hesays.“I’lllookyouupsometime.YousaidParkPlaza,right?”
Inod.Henods.
Thedoorswingsopenandawomanwalksinholdingatoddler.Shemovesbetweenus,whichputsevenmoredistancebetweenus.Itakeasteptowardthedoor,butheremainsinthesamespot.
BeforeIwalkout,Iturnbacktohimandsmile.“Itwasreallygoodtoseeyou,Atlas.”
Hesmilesalittle,butitdoesn’ttouchhiseyes.“Yeah.Youtoo,Lily.”
???
I’mmostlyquietfortherestofthemeal.I’mnotsureRyleormymotherevennotice,though,becauseshe’shavingnoissuefiringquestionafterquestionat
him.Hetakesitlikeachamp.He’sverycharmingwithmymotherinalltherightways.
UnexpectedlyrunningintoAtlastonightputsuchawrinkleinmyemotions,butbytheendofdinner,Rylehassmoothedthembackoutagain.
Mymothertakeshernapkinandwipeshermouth,thenpointsatme.“Newfavoriterestaurant,”shesays.“Incredible.”
Rylenods.“Iagree.IneedtobringAllysahere.Shelovestryingnewrestaurants.”
Thefoodreallyisgood,butthelastthingIneedisforeitherofthesetwotowanttocomebackhere.“Itwasokay,”Isay.
Hepaysforourmeals,ofcourse,andtheninsistswewalkmymothertohercar.Icanalreadytellshe’llbecallingmeabouthimtonight,simplybythepridefullookonherface.
Onceshe’sgone,Rylewalksmetomycar.
“IrequestedanUbersoyouwouldn’thavetogooutofyourwaytotakemehome.Wehaveapproximately…”Helooksdownathisphone.“Oneandahalf
minutestomakeout.”
Ilaugh.Hewrapshisarmsaroundmeandkissesmyneckfirst,andthenmycheek.“Iwouldinvitemyselfover,butIhaveanearlysurgerytomorrowandI’msuremypatientwould
appreciateitifIdidn’tspendthemajorityofthenightinsideyou.”
Ikisshimback,bothdisappointedandrelievedhe’snotcomingover.“Ihaveagrandopeninginafewdays.Ishouldprobablysleep,too.”
“When’syournextdayoff?”hesays.
“Never.When’syours?”
“Never.”
Ishakemyhead.“We’redoomed.There’sjusttoomuchdriveandsuccessbetweenthetwoofus.”
“Thatmeansthehoneymoonphasewilllastuntilwe’reeighty,”hesays.“I’llcometoyourgrandopeningFridayandthenthefourofuswillgooutand
celebrate.”Acarpullsupbesideusandhewrapshishandinmyhairandkissesmegoodbye.“Yourmotheriswonderful,bytheway.Thankyouforlettingmecometodinner.”
Hebacksawayandclimbsinsidethecar.Iwatchasitpullsoutoftheparkinglot.
Ihaveareallygoodfeelingaboutthatman.
Ismileandturntowardmycar,butthrowahanduptomychestandgaspwhenIseehim.
Atlasisstandingattherearofmycar.
“Sorry.Wasn’ttryingtoscareyou.”
Iblowoutabreath.“Well,youdid.”IleanagainstthecarandAtlasstayswhereheis,threefeetawayfromme.Helooksoutatthestreet.“So?Who’sthelucky
guy?”
“He’s…”Myvoicefalters.Thisisallsoweird.Mychestisstillconstrictedandmystomachisflipping,andIcan’ttellifit’sleftover
nervesfromkissingRyleorifit’sthepresenceofAtlas.“HisnameisRyle.Wemetaboutayearago.”
Iinstantlyregretsayingwemetthatlongago.ItmakesitsoundlikeRyleandIhavebeendatingthatlongandwearen’tevenofficiallydating.“Whataboutyou?Married?Havea
girlfriend?”
I’mnotsureifI’maskingtoextendtheconversationhestarted,orifI’mgenuinelycurious.
“Ido,actually.HernameisCassie.We’vebeentogetheralmostayearnow.”
Heartburn.IthinkIhaveheartburn.Ayear?Iplacemyhandonmychestandnod.“That’sgood.Youseemhappy.”
Doesheseemhappy?Ihavenoidea.
“Yeah.Well…I’mreallygladIgottoseeyou,Lily.”Heturnsaroundtowalkaway,butthenspinsandfacesmeagain,hishandsshovedinhisbackpockets.
“Iwillsay…Ikindofwishthiscouldhavehappenedayearago.”
Iwinceathiswords,tryingnottoletthempenetrate.Heturnsandwalksbacktowardtherestaurant.
Ifumblewithmykeysandhitthebuttontounlockthecar.Islideinandpullthedoorshut,grippingthesteeringwheel.Forwhateverreason,ahugetearfallsdownmycheek.Ahuge,
pathetic,what-the-hell-is-this-wetnesstear.Iswipeatitandpushthebuttontostartmycar.
Ididn’texpecttofeelthismuchhurtafterseeinghim.
Butit’sgood.Thishappenedforareason.MyheartneededclosuresoIcangiveittoRyle,butmaybeIcouldn’tdothatuntilthishappened.
Thisisgood.
Yes,I’mcrying.
Butit’llfeelbetter.Thisisjusthumannature,healinganoldwoundtoprepareforafreshnewlayer.
That’sall.ChapterEleven
Icurlupinmybedandstareatit.
I’malmostfinishedwithit.Therearen’tverymanymoreentries.
Ipickupthejournalandplaceitonthepillowbesideme.“I’mnotgoingtoreadyou,”Iwhisper.
Although,ifIreadwhat’sleft,I’llbefinished.HavingseenAtlastonightandknowinghehasagirlfriendandajobandmorethanlikelyahomeisenoughclosureIneedonthat
chapter.AndifIjustfinishthedamnjournal,Icanputitbackintheshoeboxandneverhavetoopenitagain.
Ifinallypickitupandrollontomyback.“EllenDeGeneres,youaresuchabitch.”
DearEllen,
“Justkeepswimming.”
Recognizethatquote,Ellen?It’swhatDorysaystoMarlininFindingNemo.
“Justkeepswimming,swimming,swimming.”
I’mnotahugefanofcartoons,butI’llgiveyoupropsforthatone.Ilikecartoonsthatcanmakeyoulaugh,butalsomakeyoufeelsomething.Aftertoday,Ithinkthat’s
myfavoritecartoon.BecauseI’vebeenfeelinglikedrowninglately,andsometimespeopleneedareminderthattheyjustneedtokeepswimming.
Atlasgotsick.Likereallysick.
He’sbeencrawlingthroughmywindowandsleepingonthefloorforafewnightsinarownow,butlastnight,IknewsomethingwaswrongassoonasIlookedathim.ItwasaSunday,so
Ihadn’tseenhimsincethenightbefore,buthelookedawful.Hiseyeswerebloodshot,hisskinwaspale,andeventhoughitwascold,hishairwassweaty.Ididn’tevenaskifhewas
feelingokay,Ialreadyknewhewasn’t.Iputmyhandonhisforeheadandhewassohot,Ialmostyelledformymother.
Hesaid,“I’llbefine,Lily,”andthenhestartedtomakehispalletonthefloor.ItoldhimtowaitthereandthenIwenttothekitchenandpouredhimaglassofwater.
Ifoundsomemedicineinthecabinet.ItwasflumedicineandIwasn’tevensureifthat’swhatwaswrongwithhim,butImadehimtakesomeanyway.
Helaidthereonthefloor,curledupintoaball,when,abouthalfanhourlaterhesaid,“Lily?IthinkI’mgonnaneedatrashcan.”
Ijumpedupandgrabbedthetrashcanfromundermydeskandkneltdowninfrontofhim.AssoonasIsetitdown,hehunchedoveritandstartedthrowingup.
God,Ifeltbadforhim.Beingsosickandnothavingabathroomorabedorahouseoramother.AllhehadwasmeandIdidn’tevenknowwhattodoforhim.
Whenhewasfinished,ImadehimdrinksomewaterandthenItoldhimtogetonthebed.Herefused,butIwasn’thavingit.Iputthetrashcanonthefloornexttothebedandmade
himmovetothebed.
HewassohotandshakingsobadIwasjustscaredtoleavehimonthefloor.Ilaiddownnexttohimandeveryhourforthenextsixhourshecontinuedgettingsick.Ikepthavingtotake
thetrashcantothebathroomtoemptyitout.I’mnotgonnalie,itwasgross.ThegrossestnightI’veeverhad,butwhatelsecouldIdo?HeneededmetohelphimandIwasallhe
had.
Whenitcametimeforhimtoleavemyroomthismorning,ItoldhimtogobacktohishouseandI’dbeovertocheckonhimbeforeschool.I’msurprisedheevenhadtheenergyto
crawloutofmywindow.Ileftthetrashcannexttomybedandwaitedformymomtocomewakemeup.Whenshedid,shesawthetrashcanandimmediatelyheldherhandtomyforehead.“Lily,
areyouokay?”
Igroanedandshookmyhead.“No.Iwasupallnightsick.Ithinkit’sovernow,butIhaven’tslept.”
Shepickedupthetrashcanandtoldmetostayinbed,thatshe’dcalltheschoolandletthemknowIwasn’tcoming.Aftersheleftforwork,IwentandgotAtlasandtoldhimhe
couldstaywithmeatthehouseallday.Hewasstillgettingsick,soIlethimusemyroomtosleep.I’dcheckonhimeveryhalfhourorsoandfinallyaroundlunchhestoppedthrowingup.
HewentandtookashowerandthenImadehimsomesoup.
Hewastootiredtoeveneatit.Igotablanketandwebothsatdownonthecouchandcovereduptogether.Idon’tknowwhenIstartedfeelingcomfortableenoughtosnuggleuptohim,
butitjustfeltright.Afewminuteslater,heleanedoveralittleandpressedhislipsagainstmycollarbone,rightbetweenmyshoulderandmyneck.ItwasaquickkissandIdon’tthink
hemeantforittoberomantic.Itwasmorelikeathank-yougesture,withoutusingactualwords.Butitmademefeelallkindsofthings.It’sbeenafewhoursnowandIkeeptouchingthat
spotwithmyfingersbecauseIcanstillfeelit.
Iknowitwasprobablytheworstdayofhislife,Ellen.Butitwasoneofmyfavorites.
Ifeelreallybadaboutthat.
WewatchedFindingNemoandwhenthatpartcameupwhereMarlinwaslookingforNemoandhewasfeelingreallydefeated,Dorysaidtohim,“Whenlifegetsyoudowndoyouwanna
knowwhatyou’vegottado?…Justkeepswimming.Justkeepswimming.Justkeepswimming,swimming,swimming.”
AtlasgrabbedmyhandwhenDorysaidthat.Hedidn’tholditlikeaboyfriendholdshisgirlfriend’shand.Hesqueezedit,likehewassayingthatwasus.HewasMarlinandIwas
Dory,andIwashelpinghimswim.
“Justkeepswimming,”Iwhisperedtohim.
—Lily
DearEllen,
I’mscared.Soscared.
Ilikehimalot.He’sallIthinkaboutwhenwe’retogetherandIfeelworriedsickabouthimwhenwe’renot.Mylifeisbeginningtorevolvearoundhimandthat’s
notgood,Iknow.ButIcan’thelpitandIdon’tknowwhattodoaboutit,andnowhemightleave
HeleftafterwefinishedwatchingFindingNemoyesterdayandthenwhenmyparentswenttobed,hecrawledinmywindowlastnight.Hehadsleptinmybedthenightbeforebecausehe
wassick,andIknowIshouldn’thavedoneit,butIputhisblanketsinthewashingmachinerightbeforeIwenttobed.HeaskedwherehispalletwasandItoldhimhe’dhavetosleep
onthebedagainbecauseIwantedtowashhisblanketsandmakesuretheywerecleansohewouldn’tgetsickagain.
Foraminute,itlookedlikehewasgoingtogobackoutthewindow.Butthenheshutitandtookoffhisshoesandcrawledinthebedwithme.
Hewasn’tsickanymore,butwhenhelaiddownIthoughtmaybeIhadgottensickbecausemystomachfeltqueasy.ButIwasn’tsick.Ijustalwaysfeelqueasywhenhe’sthat
closetome.
Wewerefacingeachotheronthebedwhenhesaid,“Whendoyouturnsixteen?”
“Twomoremonths,”Iwhispered.Wejustkeptstaringateachother,andmyheartwasbeatingfasterandfaster.“Whendoyouturnnineteen?”Iasked,justtryingto
makeconversationsohecouldn’thearhowhardIwasbreathing.
“NotuntilOctober,”hesaid.
Inodded.Iwonderedwhyhewascuriousaboutmyageanditmademewonderwhathethoughtaboutfifteen-year-olds.DidhelookatmelikeIwasjustalittlekid?Likealittlesister?Iwas
almostsixteen,andtwoandahalfyearsapartinageisn’tthatbad.Maybewhentwopeoplearefifteenandeighteen,itmightseemalittletoofarapart
“Ineedtotellyousomething,”hesaid.
Iheldmybreath,notknowingwhathewasgoingtosay.
“Igotintouchwithmyuncletoday.MymomandIusedtolivewithhiminBoston.HetoldmeoncehegetsbackfromhisworktripIcanstaywithhim.”
Ishouldhavebeensohappyforhiminthatmoment.Ishouldhavesmiledandtoldhimcongratulations.ButIfeltalloftheimmaturityofmyagewhenIclosedmyeyesandfeltsorryfor
myself.
“Areyougoing?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.“Idon’tknow.Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutitfirst.”
Hewassoclosetomeonthebed,Icouldfeelthewarmthofhisbreath.Ialsonoticedhesmelledlikemint,anditmademewonderifheusesbottledwatertobrushhisteethbeforehecomes
overhere.Ialwayssendhimhomeeverydaywithlotsofwater.
Ibroughtmyhanduptothepillowandstartedpullingatafeatherstickingoutofit.WhenIgotitallthewayout,Itwisteditbetweenmyfingers.“Idon’tknowwhattosay,
Atlas.I’mhappyyouhaveaplacetostay.Butwhataboutschool?”
“Icouldfinishdownthere,”hesaid.
Inodded.Itsoundedlikehealreadymadeuphismind.“Whenareyouleaving?”
IwonderedhowfarawayBostonis.It’sprobablyafewhours,butthat’sawholeworldawaywhenyoudon’townacar.
“Idon’tknowforsurethatIam.”
Idroppedthefeatherbackontothepillowandbroughtmyhandtomyside.“What’sstoppingyou?Youruncleisofferingyouaplacetostay.That’sgood,
right?”
Hetightenedhislipstogetherandnodded.ThenhepickedupthefeatherI’dbeenplayingwithandhestartedtwistingitbetweenhisfingers.Helaiditbackdownonthepillowand
thenhedidsomethingIwasn’texpecting.Hemovedhisfingerstomylipsandhetouchedthem.
God,Ellen.IthoughtIwasgonnadierightthenandthere.ItwasthemostI’deverfeltinsidemybodyatonetime.Hekepthisfingersthereforafewseconds,andhesaid,
“Thankyou,Lily.Foreverything.”Hemovedhisfingersupandthroughmyhair,andthenheleanedforwardandplantedakissonmyforehead.Iwasbreathingsohard,Ihadtoopenmy
mouthtocatchmoreair.Icouldseehischestmovingjustashardasminewas.HelookeddownatmeandIwatchedashiseyeswentrighttomymouth.“Haveyoueverbeenkissed,
Lily?”
IshookmyheadnoandtiltedmyfaceuptohisbecauseIneededhimtochangethatrightthenandthereorIwasn’tgonnabeabletobreathe.
Then—almostasifIweremadeofeggshells—heloweredhismouthtomineandjustresteditthere.Ididn’tknowwhattodonext,butIdidn’tcare.Ididn’tcare
ifwejuststayedlikethatallnightandneverevenmovedourmouths,itwaseverything.
HislipsclosedovermineandIcouldkindoffeelhishandshaking.Ididwhathewasdoingandstartedtomovemylipslikehewas.Ifeltthetipofhistonguebrushacrossmylipsonce
andIthoughtmyeyeswereabouttorollbackinmyhead.Hediditagain,andthenathirdtime,soIfinallydidit,too.Whenourtonguestouchedforthefirsttime,Ikindofsmiledalittle,
becauseI’dthoughtaboutmyfirstkissalot.Whereitwouldbe,whoitwouldbewith.NeverinamillionyearsdidIimagineitwouldfeellikethis.
Hepushedmeonmybackandpressedhishandagainstmycheekandkeptkissingme.ItjustgotbetterandbetterasIgrewmorecomfortable.Myfavoritemomentwaswhenhepulledbackfora
secondandlookeddownatme,thencamebackevenharder.
Idon’tknowhowlongwekissed.Alongtime.Solong,mymouthstartedtohurtandmyeyescouldn’tstayopen.Whenwefellasleep,I’mprettysurehismouthwasstill
touchingmine.
Wedidn’ttalkaboutBostonagain.
Istilldon’tknowifhe’sleaving
—Lily
???
DearEllen,
Ineedtoapologizetoyou.
It’sbeenaweeksinceI’vewrittentoyouandaweeksinceI’vewatchedyourshow.Don’tworry,Istillrecorditsoyou’llgettheratings,buteverydaywe
getoffthebus,Atlastakesaquickshowerandthenwemakeout.
Everyday.
It’sawesome.
Idon’tknowwhatitisabouthim,butIfeelsocomfortablewithhim.He’ssosweetandthoughtful.HeneverdoesanythingIdon’tfeelcomfortablewith,butsofarhe
hasn’ttriedanythingIdon’tfeelcomfortablewith.
I’mnotsurehowmuchIshoulddivulgehere,sinceyouandIhavenevermetinperson.Butletmejustsaythatifhe’severwonderedwhatmyboobsfeel
like…
Nowheknows.
Ican’tforthelifeofmefigureouthowpeoplefunctionfromdaytodaywhentheylikesomeonethismuch.Ifitwereuptome,wewouldkissalldayandallnightanddonothingin
betweenexceptmaybetalkalittle.Hetellsfunnystories.Iloveitwhenhe’sinatalkativemoodbecauseitdoesn’thappenveryoften,butheuseshishandsalot.Hesmilesalot,
too,andIlovehissmileevenmorethanIlovehiskiss.AndsometimesIjusttellhimtoshutupandstopsmilingorkissingortalkingsoIcanstareathim.Ilikelookingathiseyes.
They’resobluethathecouldbestandingacrossaroomandapersoncouldtellhowbluehiseyeswere.TheonlythingIdon’tlikeaboutkissinghimsometimesiswhenhecloseshis
eyes.
Andno.Westillhaven’ttalkedaboutBoston.
—Lily
DearEllen,
Yesterdayafternoonwhenwewereridingthebus,Atlaskissedme.Itwasn’tanythingnewtousbecausewehadkissedalotbythispoint,butit’sthefirsttimeheeverdiditin
public.Whenwe’retogethereverythingelsejustseemstofadeaway,soIdon’tthinkheeventhoughtaboutotherpeoplenoticing.ButKatienoticed.Shewassittingintheseatbehind
usandIheardhersay,“Gross,”assoonasheleanedoverandkissedme.
Shewastalkingtothegirlnexttoherwhenshesaid,“Ican’tbelieveLilyletshimtouchher.Hewearsthesameclothesalmosteveryday.”
Ellen,Iwassomad.IalsofeltawfulforAtlas.HepulledawayfrommeandIcouldtellwhatshesaidbotheredhim.Istartedtoturnaroundtoyellatherforjudgingsomeoneshe
doesn’tevenknow,buthegrabbedmyhandandshookhisheadno.
“Don’t,Lily,”hesaid.
SoIdidn’t.
Butfortherestofthebusride,Iwassoangry.IwasangrythatKatiewouldsaysomethingsoignorantjusttohurtsomeoneshethoughtwasbeneathher.IwasalsohurtthatAtlasappeared
tobeusedtocommentslikethat.
Ididn’twanthimtothinkIwasembarrassedthatanyonesawhimkissme.IknowAtlasbetterthananyofthemdo,andIknowwhatagoodpersonheis,nomatterwhathisclotheslook
likeorthatheusedtosmellbeforehestartedusingmyshower.
Ileanedoverandkissedhimonthecheekandthenrestedmyheadonhisshoulder.
“Youknowwhat?”Isaidtohim.
Heslidhisfingersthroughmineandsqueezedmyhand.“What?”
“You’remyfavoriteperson.”
Ifelthimlaughalittleanditmademesmile.
“Outofhowmanypeople?”heasked
“Allofthem.”
Hekissedthetopofmyheadandsaid,“You’remyfavoriteperson,too,Lily.Byalongshot.”
Whenthebuscametoastoponmystreet,hedidn’tletgoofmyhandwhenwestartedtowalkoff.HewasinfrontofmeintheaisleandIwaswalkingbehindhim,sohedidn’t
seeitwhenIturnedaroundandflippedoffKatie.
Iprobablyshouldn’thavedoneit,butthelookonherfacemadeitworthit.
Whenwegottomyhouse,hetookthehousekeyoutofmyhandandunlockedmyfrontdoor.Itwasweird,seeinghowcomfortableheisatmyhousenow.Hewalkedinandlockedthedoorbehind
us.That’swhenwenoticedtheelectricityinthehousewasn’tworking.Ilookedoutthewindowandsawautilitytruckdownthestreetworkingonthepowerlines,sothatmeantwe
couldn’twatchyourshow.Iwasn’ttooupsetbecauseitmeantwewouldprobablyjustmakeoutforanhourandahalf.
“Doesyourovenrunoffgasorelectricity?”heasked.
“Gas,”Isaid,alittleconfusedthathewasaskingaboutouroven.
Hekickedoffhisshoes(whichwerereallyjustapairofmyfather’soldshoes)andhestartedwalkingtowardthekitchen.“I’mgoingtomakeyousomething,”he
said.
“Youknowhowtocook?”
Heopenedtherefrigeratorandstartedmovingthingsaround.“Yep.Iprobablylovetocookasmuchasyoulovetogrowthings.”Hetookafewthingsoutoftherefrigeratorand
preheatedtheoven.Ileanedagainstthecounterandwatchedhim.Hewasn’tevenlookingatarecipe.Hewasjustpouringthingsintobowlsandmixingthemwithoutevenusingameasuring
cup.
Ihadneverseenmyfatherliftafingerinthekitchen.I’mprettysurehewouldn’tevenknowhowtopreheatouroven.Ikindofthoughtmostmenwerelikethat,butwatching
Atlasworkhiswayaroundmykitchenprovedmewrong
“Whatareyoumaking?”Iaskedhim.Ipushedmyhandsontheislandandhoistedmyselfontoit.
“Cookies,”hesaid.Hewalkedthebowlovertomeandstuckaspooninthemixture.HebroughtthespoonuptomymouthandItastedit.Oneofmyweaknessesiscookiedough,and
thiswasthebestI’devertasted.
“Oh,wow,”Isaid,lickingmylips
Hesetthebowldownbesidemeandthenleanedinandkissedme.CookiedoughandAtlas’smouthmixedtogetherislikeheaven,incaseyou’rewondering.Imadeanoisedeepinmy
throatthatlethimknowhowmuchIlikedthecombination,anditmadehimlaugh.Buthedidn’tstopkissingme.Hejustlaughedthroughthekissanditcompletelymeltedmyheart.Ahappy
Atlaswasnearmind-blowing.Itmademewanttouncovereverysinglethingaboutthisworldthathelikesandgiveitalltohim.
Whenhewaskissingme,IwonderedifIlovedhim.I’veneverhadaboyfriendbeforeandhavenothingtocomparemyfeelingsto.Infact,I’veneverreallywantedaboyfriendora
relationshipuntilAtlas.I’mnotgrowingupinahouseholdwithagreatexampleofhowamanshouldtreatsomeoneheloves,soI’vealwaysheldontoanunhealthyamountofdistrust
whenitcomestorelationshipsandotherpeople.
TherehavebeentimesI’vewonderedifIcouldeverallowmyselftotrustaguy.Forthemostpart,IhatemenbecausetheonlyexampleIhaveismyfather.Butspendingallthistime
withAtlasischangingme.Notinahugeway,Idon’tthink.Istilldistrustmostpeople.ButAtlasischangingmeenoughtobelievethatmaybehe’sanexceptiontothenorm.
Hestoppedkissingmeandpickedupthebowlagain.Hewalkeditovertotheoppositecounterandstartedspooningdoughontotwocookiesheets.
“Youwanttoknowatricktocookingwithagasoven?”heasked.
I’mnotsureIreallyevercaredaboutcookingbefore,buthesomehowmademewanttoknoweverythingheknew.Itmighthavebeenhowhappyhelookedwhenhetalkedaboutit.
“Gasovenshavehotspots,”hesaidasheopenedtheovendoorandputthecookiesheetsinside.“Youhavetobesureandrotatethepanssothey’llcook
evenly.”Heclosedthedoorandpulledtheovenmittoffhishand.Hetosseditonthecounter.“Apizzastonehelps,too.Ifyoujustkeepitintheoven,evenwhenyouaren’t
bakingpizza,ithelpseliminatethehotspots.”
Hewalkedovertomeandplacedhishandsoneithersideofme.Theelectricitykickedonrightashewaspullingdownthecollarofmyshirt.Hekissedthespotonmyshoulderhealways
loveskissingandslowlyslidhishandsupmyback.Iswear,sometimeswhenhe’snotevenhereIcanstillfeelhislipsonmycollarbone.
Hewasabouttokissmeonthemouthwhenweheardacarpullintothedrivewayandthegaragedoorstarttoopen.Ijumpedofftheisland,lookingaroundthekitchenfrantically.Hishands
wentuptomycheeksandhemademelookathim.
“Keepaneyeonthecookies.They’llbefinishedinabouttwentyminutes.”Hepressedhislipstomineandthenreleasedme,rushingtothelivingroomtograbhisbackpack.
HemadeitoutthebackdoorrightwhenIheardtheenginetomyfather’scarshutoff.
Istartedgatheringalltheingredientstogetherwhenmyfatherwalkedintothekitchenfromthegarage.Helookedaroundandthensawthelightonintheoven.
“Areyoucooking?”heasked.
Inoddedbecausemyheartwasbeatingsofast,Iwasscaredhe’dhearthetremblinginmyvoiceifIrespondedoutloud.Iscrubbedforamomentataspotonthecounterthatwas
perfectlyclean.Iclearedmythroatandsaid,“Cookies.I’mbakingcookies.”
Hesethisbriefcasedownonthekitchentableandthenwalkedtotherefrigeratorandpulledoutabeer.
“Theelectricityhasbeenout,”Isaid.“IwasboredsoIdecidedtobakewhileIwaitedforittocomebackon.”
MyfathersatdownatthetableandspentthenexttenminutesaskingmequestionsaboutschoolandifI’dthoughtaboutgoingtocollege.Occasionallywhenitwasjustthetwoofus,I
sawglimpsesofahowanormalrelationshipwithafathercouldbe.Sittingatthekitchentablewithhimdiscussingcollegesandcareerchoicesandhighschool
IrotatedthecookieslikeAtlashadsaidtodoandwhentheywerefinished,Ipulledthemoutoftheoven.Itookoneoffthecookiesheetandhandedittomyfather.IhatedthatIwas
beingnicetohim.ItalmostfeltlikeIwaswastingoneofAtlas’scookies.
“Wow,”myfathersaid.“Thesearegreat,Lily.”
Iforcedathank-you,eventhoughIdidn’tmakethem.Icouldn’tverywelltellhimthat,though.
“They’reforschoolsoyoucanonlyhaveone,”Ilied.IwaiteduntiltherestofthemcooledandthenIputtheminaTupperwarecontainerandtookthemtomyroom.I
didn’tevenwanttotryonewithoutAtlas,soIwaiteduntillaterlastnightwhenhecameover.
“Youshouldhavetriedonewhentheywerehot,”hesaid.“That’swhenthey’rethebest.”
“Ididn’twanttoeatthemwithoutyou,”Isaid.Wesatonthebedwithourbacksagainstthewallandproceededtoeathalfthebowlofcookies.Itoldhimtheywere
delicious,butfailedtotellhimtheywerebyfarthegreatestcookiesI’devereaten.Ididn’twanttoinflatehisego.Ikindoflikedhowhumblehewas.
Itriedtograbatanotherone,buthepulledthebowlawayandputthelidbackonit.“Ifyoueattoomanyyou’llmakeyourselfsickandyouwon’tlikemycookies
anymore.”
Ilaughed.“Impossible.”
Hetookadrinkofwaterandthenstoodup,facingthebed.“Imadeyousomething,”hesaid,reachingintohispocket.
“Morecookies?”Iasked.
Hesmiledandshookhishead,thenheldoutafist.Iliftedmyhandandhedroppedsomethinghardinthepalmofmyhand.Itwasasmall,flatoutlineofaheart,abouttwoincheslong,
carvedoutofwood.
Irubbedmythumboverit,tryingnottosmiletoobig.Itwasn’tananatomicallycorrectheart,butitalsodidn’tlooklikethehand-drawnhearts.Itwasunevenandhollowin
themiddle.
“Youmadethis?”Iasked,lookingupathim.
Henodded.“IcarveditwithanoldwhittlingknifeIfoundatthehouse.”
Theendsoftheheartweren’tconnected.Theyjustcurvedinalittle,leavingalittlespaceatthetopoftheheart.Ididn’tevenknowwhattosay.Ifelthimsitbackdownon
thebedbutIcouldn’tstoplookingatitlongenoughtoeventhankhim.
“Icarveditoutofabranch,”hesaid,whispering.“Fromtheoaktreeinyourbackyard.”
Iswear,Ellen.IneverthoughtIcouldlovesomethingsomuch.OrmaybewhatIwasfeelingwasn’tforthegift,butforhim.Iclosedmyfistaroundtheheartandthenleanedoverand
kissedhimsohard,hefellbackontothebed.Ithrewmylegoverhimandstraddledhimandhegrabbedmywaistandgrinnedagainstmymouth.
“I’mgonnacarveyouadamnhouseoutofthatoaktreeifthisistherewardIget,”hewhispered.
Ilaughed.“Youhavetostopbeingsoperfect,”Itoldhim.“You’realreadymyfavoritepersonbutnowyou’remakingitreallyunfairtoalltheotherhumans
becausenoonewilleverbeabletocatchuptoyou.”
HebroughthishandtothebackofmyheadandrolledmeuntilIwasonmybackandhewastheoneontop.“Thenmyplanisworking,”hesaid,rightbeforekissingme
again.
Iheldontotheheartwhilewekissed,wantingtobelieveitwasagiftfornoreasonatall.ButpartofmewasscareditwasagifttorememberhimbywhenheleavesforBoston.
Ididn’twanttorememberhim.IfIhadtorememberhim,itwouldmeanhewasn’tapartofmylifeanymore.
Idon’twanthimtomovetoBoston,Ellen.Iknowthat’sselfishofmebecausehecan’tkeeplivinginthathouse.Idon’tknowwhatI’mmoreafraidmight
happen.Watchinghimleaveorselfishlybegginghimnottogo.
Iknowweneedtotalkaboutit.I’llaskhimaboutBostontonightwhenhecomesover.Ijustdidn’twanttoaskhimlastnightbecauseitwasareallyperfectday.
—Lily
DearEllen,
Justkeepswimming.Justkeepswimming.
He’smovingtoBoston.
Idon’treallyfeelliketalkingaboutit.
—Lily
DearEllen,
Thisisgoingtobeabigoneformymothertohide.
Myfatherisusuallyprettycognizantofhittingherwhereitwon’tleaveavisiblebruise.Thelastthingheprobablywantsisforpeopleinthetowntoknowwhathedoestoher.
I’veseenhimkickherafewtimes,chokeher,hitheronthebackandthestomach,pullherhair.Thefewtimeshe’shitherontheface,it’salwaysjustbeenaslap,sothe
markswouldn’tstayforlong.
ButneverhaveIseenhimdowhathedidlastnight.
Itwasreallylatewhentheygothome.Itwasaweekend,soheandmymomwenttosomecommunityfunction.Myfatherhasarealestatecompanyandhe’salsothetownmayor,sotheyhave
todothingsinthepublicalotlikegotocharitydinners.Whichisironic,sincemyfatherhatescharities.ButIguesshehastosaveface.
Atlaswasalreadyinmyroomwhentheygothome.Icouldhearthemfightingassoonastheywalkedthroughthefrontdoor.Alotoftheconversationwasmuffled,butforthemostpart,it
soundedlikemyfatherwasaccusingherofflirtingwithsomeman.
NowIknowmymother,Ellen.Shewouldneverdosomethinglikethat.Ifanything,aguyprobablylookedatheranditmademyfatherjealous.Mymotherisreallybeautiful.
IheardhimcallherawhoreandthenIheardthefirstblow.IstartedtoclimboutofmybedbutAtlaspulledmebackandtoldmenottogointhere,thatImightgethurt.Itoldhimit
actuallyhelpssometimes.ThatwhenIgointhere,myfatherbacksoff.
Atlastriedtotalkmeoutofit,butfinallyIgotupandwentoutintothelivingroom.
Ellen.
Ijust…
Hewasontopofher.
Theywereonthecouchandhehadhishandaroundherthroat,buthisotherhandwaspullingupherdress.ShewastryingtofighthimoffandIjuststoodthere,frozen.Shekeptbegginghim
togetoffherandthenhehitherrightacrossthefaceandtoldhertoshutup.I’llneverforgethiswordswhenhesaid,“Youwantattention?I’llgiveyousomefucking
attention.”Andthat’swhenshegotrealstillandstoppedfightinghim.Iheardhercrying,andthenshesaid,“Pleasebequiet.Lilyishere.”
Shesaid,“Pleasebequiet.”
Pleasebequietwhileyourapeme,dear.
Ellen,Ididn’tknowonehumanwascapableoffeelingsomuchhateinsideoneheart.AndI’mnoteventalkingaboutmyfather.I’mtalkingaboutme.
IwalkedstraighttothekitchenandIopenedadrawer.IgrabbedthebiggestknifeIcouldfindand…Idon’tknowhowtoexplainit.ItwaslikeIwasn’teven
inmyownbody.Icouldseemyselfwalkingacrossthekitchenwiththeknifeinmyhand,andIknewIwasn’tgoingtouseit.Ijustwantedsomethingbiggerthanmyselfthatcouldscarehim
awayfromher.ButrightbeforeImadeitoutofthekitchen,twoarmswentaroundmywaistandpickedmeupfrombehind.Idroppedtheknife,andmyfatherdidn’thearitbutmymotherdid.
WelockedeyesasAtlascarriedmebacktomybedroom.Whenwewerebackinsidemyroom,Ijuststartedhittinghiminthechest,tryingtogetbackouttheretoher.Iwascryinganddoing
everythingIcouldtogethimoutofmyway,buthewouldn’tmove.
Hejustwrappedhisarmsaroundmeandsaid,“Lily,calmdown.”Hekeptsayingitoverandover,andheheldmethereforalongtimeuntilIacceptedthathewasn’tgonna
letmegobackoutthere.Hewasn’tgonnaletmehavethatknife.
Hewalkedovertothebedandgrabbedhisjacketandstartedputtingonhisshoes.“We’llgonextdoor,”hesaid.“We’llcallthepolice.”
Thepolice.
Mymotherhadwarnedmenottocallthepoliceinthepast.Shesaiditcouldjeopardizemyfather’scareer.Butinallhonesty,Ididn’tcareatthatpoint.Ididn’tcare
thathewasthemayororthateveryonewholovedhimdidn’tknowtheawfulsideofhim.TheonlythingIcaredaboutwashelpingmymother,soIpulledonmyjacketandwenttotheclosetfor
apairofshoes.WhenIsteppedoutofmycloset,Atlaswasstaringatmybedroomdoor.
Itwasopening.
Mymothersteppedinsideandquicklyshutit,lockingitbehindher.I’llneverforgetwhatshelookedlike.Shehadbloodcomingdownfromherlip.Hereyewasalreadystartingto
swell,andshehadaclumpofhairjustrestingonhershoulder.ShelookedatAtlasandthenme.
Ididn’teventakeamomenttofeelscaredthatshecaughtmeinmyroomwithaboy.Ididn’tcareaboutthat.Iwasjustworriedabouther.Iwalkedovertoherandgrabbedher
handsandwalkedhertomybed.Ibrushedthehairoffhershoulderandthenfromherforehead.
“He’sgonnagocallthepolice,Mom.Okay?”
Hereyesgrewrealwideandshestartedshakingherhead.“No,”shesaid.ShelookedoveratAtlasandsaid,“Youcan’t.No.”
Hewasalreadyatthewindowabouttoleave,sohestoppedandlookedatme
“He’sdrunk,Lily,”shesaid.“Heheardyourdoorshut,sohewenttoourbedroom.Hestopped.Ifyoucallthepolice,it’lljustmakeitworse,believeme.Just
lethimsleepitoff,it’llbebettertomorrow.”
Ishookmyheadandcouldfeelthetearsstingingmyeyes.“Mom,hewastryingtorapeyou!”
SheduckedherheadandwincedwhenIsaidthat.Sheshookherheadagainandsaid,“It’snotlikethat,Lily.We’remarried,andsometimesmarriageis
just…you’retooyoungtounderstandit.”
Itgotreallyquietforaminute,andthenIsaid.“IhopetohellIneverdo.”
That’swhenshestartedtocry.ShejustheldherheadinherhandsandshestartedtosobandallIcoulddowaswrapmyarmsaroundherandcrywithher.I’dneverseenherthis
upset.Orthishurt.Orthisscared.Itbrokemyheart,Ellen.
Itbrokeme.
Whenshewasfinishedcrying,IlookedaroundtheroomandAtlashadleft.WewenttothekitchenandIhelpedhercleanupherlipandhereye.Sheneverdidsayanythingabouthimbeing
there.Notonething.IwaitedforhertotellmeIwasgrounded,butsheneverdid.Irealizedthatmaybeshedidn’tacknowledgeitbecausethat’swhatshedoes.Thingsthathurther
justgetsweptundertherug,nevertobebroughtupagain.
—Lily
DearEllen,
IthinkI’mreadytotalkaboutBostonnow.
Helefttoday.
I’veshuffledmydeckofcardssomanytimes,myhandshurt.I’mscaredifIdon’tgetouthowIfeelonpaper,I’llgocrazyholdingitallin.
Ourlastnightdidn’tgooversowell.Wekissedalotatfirst,butwewerebothtoosadtoreallycareaboutit.Forthesecondtimeintwodays,hetoldmehechangedhismindand
thathewasn’tleaving.Hedidn’twanttoleavemealoneinthishouse.ButI’velivedwiththeseparentsforalmostsixteenyears.Itwassillyofhimtoturndownahomein
favorofbeinghomeless,justbecauseofme.Webothknewthat,butitstillhurt.
Itriedtonotbesosadaboutit,sowhenwewerelyingthere,IaskedhimtotellmeaboutBoston.ItoldhimmaybeonedaywhenIgotoutofschool,Icouldgothere.
Hegotthislookinhiseyewhenhestartedtalkingaboutit.AlookI’dneverseen.Sortoflikehewastalkingaboutheaven.Hetoldmeabouthoweveryonehasthegreatestaccents
there.Insteadofcar,theysaycah.Hemustnotrealizethathesometimessayshisr’slikethat,too.Hesaidhelivedtherefromtheagesofnineuntilhewasfourteen,soIguessmaybehe
pickedupalittlebitoftheaccent.
Hetoldmeabouthowhisunclelivesinanapartmentbuildingwiththecoolestrooftopdeck.
“Alotofapartmentshavethem,”hesaid.“Someevenhavepools.”
Plethora,Maine,probablydidn’tevenhaveabuildingthatwastallenoughforarooftopdeck.Iwonderedwhatitwouldfeelliketobethathighup.Iaskedhimifheeverwentup
thereandhesaidyes.Thatwhenhewasyounger,sometimeshewouldgototheroofandjustsitupthereandthinkwhilehelookedoutoverthecity.
Hetoldmeaboutthefood.IalreadyknewhelikedtocookbutIhadnoideahowmuchpassionhehadforit.Iguessbecausehedoesn’thaveastoveorakitchen,sootherthanthe
cookieshebakedme,he’sneverreallytalkedaboutcookingbefore.
Hetoldmeabouttheharborandhow,beforehismotherremarried,sheusedtotakehimfishingoutthere.“Imean,Bostonisn’tanydifferentfromanyotherbigcity,I
guess,”hesaid.“There’snotalotthatmakesitstandout.It’sjust…Idon’tknow.There’savibe.Areallygoodenergy.Whenpeoplesay
theyliveinBoston,they’reproudofit.Imissthatsometimes.”
Iranmyfingersthroughhishairandsaid,“Well,youmakeitsoundlikethebestplaceintheworld.LikeeverythingisbetterinBoston.”
Helookedatmeandhiseyesweresadwhenhesaid.“EverythingisalmostbetterinBoston.Exceptthegirls.Bostondoesn’thaveyou.”
Thatmademeblush.HekissedmerealsweetandthenIsaidtohim,“Bostondoesn’thavemeyet.SomedayI’llmovethereandI’llfindyou.”
Hemademepromise.SaidifImovedtoBoston,everythingreallywouldbebetterthereanditwouldbethebestcityintheworld.
Wekissedsomemore.AnddidotherthingsthatIwon’tboreyouwith.Although,that’snottosaytheywereboring.
Theywerenot.
ButthenthismorningIhadtotellhimgoodbye.Andheheldmeandkissedmesomuch,IthoughtImightdieifheletgo.
ButIdidn’tdie.BecauseheletgoandhereIam.Stillliving.Stillbreathing.
Justbarely.
—Lily
Ifliptothenextpage,butthenslamthebookshut.There’sonlyonemoreentryandIdon’tknowthatIreallyfeellikereadingitrightnow.Orever.Iput
thejournalbackinmycloset,knowingthatmychapterwithAtlasisover.He’shappynow.
I’mhappynow.
Timecandefinitelyhealallwounds.
Oratleastmostofthem.
Iturnoffmylampandthenpickupmyphonetoplugitin.IhavetwomissedtextmessagesfromRyleandonefrommymother.
Ryle:Hey.NakedTruthcommencingin3…2…
Ryle:Iwasworriedthatbeinginarelationshipwouldaddtomyresponsibilities.That’swhyI’veavoidedthemmywholelife.Ialreadyhave
enoughonmyplate,andseeingthestressmyparents’marriageseemedtocausethem,andthefailedmarriagesofsomeofmyfriends,Iwantednopartinsomethinglikethat.Butafter
tonight,Irealizedthatmaybealotofpeoplearejustdoingitwrong.Becausewhat’shappeningbetweenusdoesn’tfeellikearesponsibility.Itfeelslikeareward.AndI’ll
fallasleepwonderingwhatIdidtodeserveit.
Ipullmyphonetomychestandsmile.ThenIscreen-shotthetextbecauseI’mkeepingitforever.Iopenupthethirdtextmessage.
Mom:Adoctor,Lily?ANDyourownbusiness?IwanttobeyouwhenIgrowup.
Iscreen-shotthatone,too.ChapterTwelve
“Whatareyoudoingtothosepoorflowers?”Allysaasksfrombehindme.
Iclampanothersilverwasherclosedandslideitdownthestem.“Steampunk.”
Webothstandbackandadmirethebouquet.Atleast…Ihopeshe’slookingatitwithadmiration.ItturnedoutbetterthanIthoughtitwould.Iusedfloristdip
dyetoturnsomewhiterosesadeeppurple.ThenIdecoratedthestemswithdifferentsteampunkelements,liketinymetalwashersandgears,andevensuper-gluedasmallclocktothebrownleather
strapthat’sholdingthebouquettogether.
“Steampunk?”
“It’satrend.Kindofasubgenreoffiction,butit’scatchingoninotherareas.Art.Music.”Iturnaroundandsmile,holdingupthebouquet.“And
now…flowers.”
Allysatakestheflowersfrommeandholdsthemupinfrontofher.“They’reso…weird.Ilovethemsomuch.”Shehugsthem.“CanIhave
them?”
Ipullthemawayfromher.“No,they’reourgrandopeningdisplay.Notforsale.”ItaketheflowersfromherandgrabthevaseImadeyesterday.Ifoundapairofold
button-upwomen’sbootsatafleamarketlastweek.Theyremindedmeofthesteampunkstyle,andthebootsareactuallywhereIgottheideafortheflowers.Iwashedthebootslastweek,
driedthem,andthensuper-gluedpiecesofmetaltothem.OnceIbrushedthemwithModPodge,Iwasabletolinetheinsidewithavasetoholdwaterfortheflowers.
“Allysa?”Iplacetheflowersonthecenterdisplaytable.“I’mprettysurethisisexactlywhatIwassupposedtodowithmylife.”
“Steampunk?”sheasks.
Ilaughandspinaround.“Create!”Isay.AndthenIflipthesigntoopen,fifteenminutesearly.
Webothspendthedaybusierthanwethoughtwe’dbe.Betweenphoneorders,Internetorders,andwalk-ins,neitherofusevenhastimetotakealunchbreak.
“Youneedmoreemployees,”Allysasaysasshepassesme,holdingtwobouquetsofflowers.Thatisatoneo’clock.
“Youneedmoreemployees,”shesaystomeattwoo’clock,holdingthephonetoherearandwritingdownanorderwhileringingsomeoneupattheregister.
Marshallstopsbyafterthreeo’clockandaskshowit’sgoing.Allysasays,“Sheneedsmoreemployees.”
Ihelpawomantakeabouquettohercaratfouro’clock,andasI’mwalkingbackinside,Allysaiswalkingout,holdinganotherbouquet.“Youneedmoreemployees,”she
says,exasperated.
Atsixo’clock,shelocksthedoorandflipsthesign.Shefallsagainstthedoorandslidestothefloor,lookingupatme.
“Iknow,”Itellher.“Ineedmoreemployees.”
Shejustnods.
Andthenwelaugh.Iwalkovertowhereshe’sseatedandIsitnexttoher.Weleanourheadstogetherandlookatthestore.Thesteampunkflowersarefrontandcenter,andalthoughI
refusedtosellthisparticularbouquet,wehadeightpreordersformoreofthem.
“I’mproudofyou,Lily,”shesays.
Ismile.“Icouldn’thavedoneitwithoutyou,Issa.”
Wesitthereforseveralminutes,enjoyingtherestwe’refinallygivingourfeet.ThiswashonestlyoneofthebestdaysI’veeverhad,butIcan’thelpbutfeelanagging
sadnessthatRyleneverstoppedby.Healsonevertexted.
“Haveyouheardfromyourbrothertoday?”Iask.
Sheshakesherhead.“No,butI’msurehe’sjustbusy.”
Inod.Iknowhe’sbusy.
Webothlookupwhensomeoneknocksonthedoor.IsmilewhenIseehimcuppinghishandsaroundhiseyeswithhisfacepressedtothewindow.Hefinallylooksdownandseesussittingonthe
floor.
“Speakofthedevil,”Allysasays.
Ijumpupandunlockthedoortolethimin.AssoonasIopenit,he’spushinghiswayinside.“Imissedit?Idid.Imissedit.”Hehugsme.“I’msorry,Itried
togethereassoonasIcould.”
Ihughimbackandsay,“It’sfine.You’rehere.Itwasperfect.”I’mgiddywithexcitementthathemadeitatall.
“You’reperfect,”hesays,kissingme.
Allysabrushespastus.“You’reperfect,”shemimics.“HeyRyle,guesswhat?”
Rylereleasesme.“What?”
Allysagrabsthetrashcananddropsitonthecounter.“Lilyneedstohiremoreemployees.”
Ilaughatherconstantrepetition.Rylesqueezesmyhandandsays,“Soundslikebusinesswasgood.”
Ishrug.“Ican’tcomplain.Imean…I’mnobrainsurgeon,butI’mprettygoodatwhatIdo.”
Rylelaughs.“Youguysneedanyhelpcleaningup?”
AllysaandIputhimtowork,helpinguscleanupafterthebigday.Wegeteverythingfinishedandpreppedfortomorrow,andthenMarshallarrivesjustaswe’refinishingup.He’s
carryingabagwhenhewalksinsideanddropsitonthecounter.Hebeginstopullouthugelumpsofsomekindofmaterialandtossesthemateachofus.Icatchmineandunfoldit.
It’saonesie.
Withkittensalloverit.
“Bruinsgame.Freebeer.Suitup,team!”
Allysagroansandsays,“Marshall,youmadesixmilliondollarsthisyear.Dowereallyneedfreebeer?”
Heshovesafingeragainstherlips,pushingtheminoppositedirections.“Shh!Don’tspeaklikearichgirl,Issa.Blasphemy.”
ShelaughsandMarshallgrabstheonesieoutofherhand.Heunzipsitandhelpsherintoit.Oncewe’reallsuitedup,welockthedoorandheadtothebar.
I’veneverinmylifeseensomanymeninonesies.AllysaandIaretheonlywomenwearingthem,butIkindoflikethat.It’sloud.Soloud,andeachtimetheBruinsmakeagood
play,AllysaandIhavetocoverourearsfromthescreams.Afterabouthalfanhour,aboothonthetopflooropensupandweallrunupstairstoclaimit.
“Muchbetter,”Allysasaysasweslidein.It’smuchquieteruphere,althoughstillloudcomparedtonormalstandards.
Awaitresscomesovertotakeourdrinkorder.Iorderredwine,andassoonasIdo,Marshallpracticallyjumpsoutofhisseat.“Wine?”heyells.“You’reinaonesie!
Youdon’tgetfreewinewithaonesie!”
Hetellsthewaitresstobringmeabeer,instead.Ryletellshertobringmewine.Allysawantswater,andthisupsetsMarshallevenmore.Hetellsthewaitresstobringfourbottlesofbeer
andthenRylesays,“Twobeers,redwine,andawater.”Thewaitressisveryconfusedbythetimesheleavesourtable.
MarshallthrowshisarmaroundAllysaandkissesher.“HowamIsupposedtotryandknockyouuptonightifyouaren’talittlewasted?”
ThelookonAllysa’sfacechanges,andIfeelinstantlybadforher.IknowMarshallonlysaidthatinfun,butithastobotherher.Shewasjusttellingmeafewdaysagohowdepressed
sheisthatshecan’tgetpregnant.
“Ican’thavebeer,Marshall.”
“Thendrinkwine,atleast.Youlikememorewhenyou’retipsy.”Helaughsathimself,butAllysadoesn’t.
“Ican’thavewine,either.Ican’thaveanyalcohol,actually.”
Marshallstopslaughing.
Myheartdoesaflip-flop.
Marshallturnsintheboothandgrabshershoulders,makingherfacehimstraight-on.“Allysa?”
ShejuststartsnoddingandIdon’tknowwhostartscryingfirst.MeorMarshallorAllysa.“I’mgonnabeadad?”heyells.
She’sstillnodding,andI’mjustbawlinglikeanidiot.Marshalljumpsupintheboothandyells,“I’mgonnabeadad!”
Ican’tevenexplainwhatthismomentislike.Agrownmaninaonesie,standingupinaboothatabar,yellingtowhoeverwilllistenthathe’sgonnabeadad.Hepullsherupand
they’rebothstandingintheboothnow.Hekissesherandit’sthesweetestthingI’veeverseen.
UntilIlookatRyleandcatchhimchewingonhisbottomliplikehe’stryingtoblinkbackapotentialtear.Heglancesatmeandseesmestaring,sohelooksaway.“Shutup,”
hesays.“She’smysister.”
Ismileandleanoverandkisshimonthecheek.“Congratulations,UncleRyle.”
Oncetheparents-to-bestopmakingoutinthebooth,RyleandIbothstandupandcongratulatethem.Allysasaidshe’sbeenfeelingsickforawhile,butjusttookatestthismorning
beforeourgrandopening.ShewasgoingtowaitandtellMarshalltonightwhentheygothome,butshecouldn’tholditinforanothersecond.
Ourdrinkscomeandweorderfood.Oncethewaitresswalksaway,IlookatMarshall.“Howdidyoutwomeet?”
Hesays,“AllysatellsthestorybetterthanIdo.”
Allysaperksupandleansforward.“Ihatedhim,”shesays.“HewasRyle’sbestfriendandhewasalwaysatthehouse.Ithoughthewassoannoying.Hehadjustmovedto
OhiofromBostonandhehadthatBostonaccent.HethoughtitmadehimsocoolbutIjustwantedtoslaphimeverytimehespoke.”
“She’ssosweet,”Marshallsays,sarcastically.
“Youwereanidiot,”Allysareplies,rollinghereyes.“Anyway,onedayRyleandIhadafewfriendsover.Nothingbig,butourparentswereoutoftown,soofcoursewehada
littleget-together.”
“Therewerethirtypeoplethere,”Rylesays.“Itwasaparty.”
“Okay,aparty,”Allysasays.“IwalkedintothekitchenandMarshallwasstandingtherepressedupagainstsomefloozy.”
“Shewasn’tafloozy,”hesays.“Shewasanicegirl.TastedlikeCheetos,but…”
Allysaglaresathimsoheshutsup.Sheturnsbacktome.“Ilostit,”shesays.“Istartedyellingathimtotakehiswhorestohisownhouse.Thegirlwasliterallyso
terrifiedofme,sheranforthedooranddidn’tcomeback.”
“Cockblocker,”Marshallsays.
Allysapuncheshimintheshoulder.“Anyway.AfterIcockblockedhim,Irantomyroom,embarrassedthatIdidthat.Itwasoutofpurejealousy,andIdidn’tevenrealizeIliked
himthatwayuntilIsawhishandsonsomeothergirl’sass.Ithrewmyselfonmybedandstartedcrying.Afewminuteslater,hewalkedintomyroomandaskedmeifIwasokay.Irolledover
andyelled,‘Ilikeyou,youstupidfuck-face!’?”
“Andtherestishistory…”Marshallsays.
Ilaugh.“Awe.Stupidfuck-face.Howsweet.”
Ryleholdsupafingerandsays,“You’releavingoutthebestpart.”
Allysashrugs.“Ohyeah.SoMarshallwalkedovertome,pulledmeoffthebed,kissedmewiththesamemouthhewasjustkissingthefloozywith,andwemadeoutforhalfanhour.Ryle
walkedinonusandstartedscreamingatMarshall.ThenMarshallpushedRyleoutofmybedroom,lockedthedoor,andmadeoutwithmeforanotherhour.”
Ryleisshakinghishead.“Betrayedbymybestfriend.”
MarshallpullsAllysatohim.“Ilikeher,youstupidfuck-face.”
Ilaugh,butRyleturnstomewithaseriouslookonhisface.“Ididn’tspeaktohimforanentiremonth,Iwassomad.Ieventuallygotoverit.Wewereeighteen,shewas
seventeen.Wasn’tmuchIcoulddointhewayofkeepingthemapart.”
“Wow,”Isay.“Isometimesforgethowcloseinageyoutwoare.”
Allysasmilesandsays,“Threekidsinthreeyears.Ifeelsosorryformyparents.”
Thetablegrowsquiet.IseeanapologeticlookpassfromAllysatoRyle.
“Three?”Iask.“Youhaveanothersibling?”
Rylestraightensupandtakesasipofhisbeer.Hesetsitbackdownonthetableandsays,“Wehadanolderbrother.Hepassedawaywhenwewerekids.”
Suchagreatnight,ruinedbyasimplequestion.Luckily,Marshallredirectstheconversationlikeapro.
Ispendtherestoftheeveninglisteningtostoriesaboutthemgrowingup.I’mnotsureI’veeverlaughedashardasIhavetonight.
Whenthegameisover,weallwalkbacktotheshoptoretrieveourcars.RylesaidhecaughtanUberoverearlier,sohe’lljustridewithme.BeforeAllysaandMarshallleave,Itellher
toholdon.Iruninsidethestoreandgrabthesteampunkflowersandrunthembacktotheircar.HerfacelightsupwhenIhandthemtoher.
“I’mhappyyou’repregnantbutthat’snotwhyI’mgivingyoutheseflowers.Ijustwantyoutohavethem.Becauseyou’remybestfriend.”
Allysasqueezesmeandwhispersinmyear.“Ihopehemarriesyousomeday.We’llbeevenbettersisters.”
Sheclimbsinsidethecarandtheyleave,andIjuststandtherewatchingthembecauseIdon’tknowthatI’veeverhadafriendlikeherinmywholelife.Maybeit’sthewine.
Idon’tknow,butIlovetoday.Everythingaboutit.IespeciallylovehowRylelooks,leaningagainstmycar,watchingme.
“You’rereallybeautifulwhenyou’rehappy.”
Ugh!Thisday!Perfect!
???
We’remakingourwayupthestairstomyapartmentwhenRylegrabsmywaistandpushesmeagainstthewall.Hejuststartskissingme,rightthereinthestairwell.
“Impatient,”Imutter.
Helaughsandcupsmyasswithbothofhishands.“Nope.It’sthisonesie.Youreallyshouldconsidermakingthisyourbusinessattire.”Hekissesmeagainanddoesn’t
stopkissingmeuntilsomeonepassesus,headingdownthestairs.
Theguymumbles,“Niceonesies,”ashesqueezespastus.“DidtheBruinswin?”
Rylenods.“Threetoone,”heresponds,withoutlookingupattheguy.
“Nice,”theguysays.
Oncehe’sgone,IstepawayfromRyle.“Whatisthisonesiething?DoeseverymaleinBostonknowaboutthis?”
Helaughsandsays,“Freebeer,Lily.It’sfreebeer.”Hepullsmeupthestairs,andwhenwewalkinthedoor,Lucyisstandingatthekitchentabletapingupaboxofher
stuff.There’sanotherboxshehasn’ttapedupyetandIcouldswearIseeabowlthatIboughtatHomeGoodsstickingoutofthetop.Shesaidshe’dhaveallherstuffoutbynext
week,butIhaveafeelingshe’llconvenientlyhavesomeofmystuffout,too.
“Whoareyou?”sheasks,lookingRyleupanddown.
“RyleKincaid.I’mLily’sboyfriend.”
Lily’sboyfriend.
Didyouhearthat?
Boyfriend.
It’sthefirsttimehe’sconfirmedit,andhesaiditsoconfidently.“Myboyfriend,huh?”Iwalkintothekitchenandgrababottleofwineandtwowineglasses.
RylecomesupbehindmeasI’mpouringthewineandsnakeshisarmsaroundmywaist.“Yep.Yourboyfriend.”
Ihandhimaglassofwineandsay,“SoI’magirlfriend?”
Heholdsuphisglassandclinksitagainstmine.“Totheendoftrialrunsandthebeginningofsurethings.”
We’rebothsmilingaswetakeadrinkofourwine.
Lucystackstheboxestogetherandwalkstowardthefrontdoor.“LookslikeIgotoutrightintime,”shesays.
ThedoorclosesbehindherandRyleraisesaneyebrow.“Idon’tthinkyourroommatelikesmeverymuch.”
“You’dbesurprised.Ididn’tthinkshelikedme,either,butyesterdaysheaskedmetobeabridesmaidinherwedding.Ithinkshe’sjusthopingforfreeflowers,
though.She’sveryopportunistic.”
Rylelaughsandleansagainsttherefrigerator.Hiseyesfalltoamagnetthatsays“Boston”onit.Hepullsitofftherefrigeratorandraisesaneyebrow.“You’ll
nevergetoutofBostonpurgatoryifyoukeepsouvenirsofBostononyourfridgelikeatourist.”
Ilaughandgrabthemagnet,slappingitbackonthefridge.Ilikethatherememberssomuchaboutthefirstnightwemet.“Itwasagift.ItonlycountsastouristyifIboughtit
myself.”
Hestepsovertomeandtakesmyglassofwinefrommyhands.Hesetsbothofourglassesonthecountertop,andthenleansinandgivesmeadeep,passionate,drunkenkiss.Icantastethetart
fruitinessofthewineonhistongueandIlikeit.Hishandsgotothezipperonmyonesie.“Let’sgetyououtoftheseclothes.”
Hepullsmetowardthebedroom,kissingmewhilewebothstruggleoutofourclothes.Bythetimewemakeittomybedroom,I’mdowntomybraandpanties.
Heshovesmeagainstthedoor,andIgaspattheunexpectednessofit.
“Don’tmove,”hesays.Hepresseshislipstomychest,thenbeginstokissmeslowlyashemakeshiswaydownmybody.
Oh,Lord.Canthisdayseriouslygetanybetter?
Irunmyhandsthroughhishair,buthegrabsmywristsandpressesthemagainstthedoor.Heclimbsbackupmybody,squeezingmywriststightly.Heraisesaneyebrowinwarning.“I
said…don’tmove.”
Itrynottosmile,butit’shardtodisguise.Hedragshismouthbackdownmybody.Heslowlylowersmypantiestomyankles,buthetoldmenottomove,soIdon’tkickthem
off.
Hismouthslidesupmythighuntil
Yeah.
Best.
Day.
Ever.ChapterThirteen
Ryle:Areyouathomeorstillatwork?
Me:Work.Shouldbedoneinaboutanhour.
Ryle:CanIcomeseeyou?
Me:Youknowhowpeoplesaythereisnosuchthingasastupidquestion?They’rewrong.Thatwasastupidquestion.
Ryle:??
Halfanhourlater,he’sknockingatthefrontdoorofthefloralshop.Iclosedtheshopalmostthreehoursago,butI’mstillhere,tryingtogetcaughtuponthe
chaosthatwasthefirstmonth.Thestoreisstilltoonewtogetanaccurateprojectionofhowwellorhowbadit’sdoing.SomedaysaregreatandsomearesoslowIsendAllysahome.But
overall,I’mhappywithhowit’sgonesofar.
AndhappywithhowthingsaregoingwithRyle.
Iunlockthedoortolethimin.He’sinlightbluescrubsagain,andhestillhasastethoscopearoundhisneck.Freshfromwork.Verynicetouch.Iswear,everytimeIseehimstraight
offashift,Ihavetohidethestupidgrinonmyface.Igivehimaquickkissandthenturnbacktowardmyoffice.“Ihaveafewthingstofinishupandthenwecangobacktomy
place.”
Hefollowsmeintomyofficeandclosesthedoor.“Yougotacouch?”heasks,lookingaroundmyoffice.
I’vespentsomeofthisweekputtingthefinishingtouchesonit.IboughtacoupleoflampssoIdon’thavetoturnontheoverpoweringfluorescentlights.Thelampsgivetherooma
softglow.Ialsoboughtafewplantstokeepherepermanently.It’snogarden,butit’sascloseasitgets.It’scomealongwaysincethisroomwasbeingusedasstoragefor
vegetablecrates.
Rylewalksovertothecouchandfallsdownontoit,face-first.“Takeyourtime,”hemumblesintothepillow.“I’lljustnapuntilyou’refinished.”
Isometimesworryabouthowhardhepusheshimselfwithwork,butIdon’tsayanything.I’vebeensittinginmyofficegoingontwelvehoursnow,soIdon’thavemuchroomto
talkwhenitcomestobeingtooambitious.
Ispendthenextfifteenorsominutesfinalizingorders.WhenI’mfinished,IclosemylaptopandlookoveratRyle.
Ithoughthe’dbeasleep,butinsteadhe’sonhissidewithhisheadproppeduponhishand.He’sbeenwatchingmethiswholetime,andseeingthesmileonhisfacemakesme
blush.Ipushmychairbackandstandup.
“Lily,IthinkIlikeyoutoomuch,”hesaysasImakemywayovertohim
Iscrunchupmynoseashesitsuponthecouchandpullsmeontohislap.“Toomuch?Thatdoesn’tsoundlikeacompliment.”
“That’sbecauseIdon’tknowifitis,”hesays.Headjustsmylegsoneithersideofhimandthenwrapshisarmsaroundmywaist.“Thisismyfirstreal
relationship.Idon’tknowifI’msupposedtolikeyouthismuchyet.Idon’twanttoscareyouaway.”
Ilaugh.“Likethatcouldeverhappen.Youworkwaytoomuchtosmotherme.”
Herubshishandsupmyback.“DoesitbotheryouthatIworktoomuch?”
Ishakemyhead.“No.IworryaboutyousometimesbecauseIdon’twantyoutoburnyourselfout.ButIdon’tmindthatIhavetoshareyouwithyourpassion.Iactuallyreally
likehowambitiousyouare.It’skindofsexy.Itmightevenbemyfavoritethingaboutyou.”
“YouknowwhatIlikethemostaboutyou?”
“Ialreadyknowthisanswer,”Isay,smiling.“Mymouth.”
Heleanshisheadbackagainstthecouch.“Ohyeah.Thatdoescomefirst.Butdoyouknowwhatmysecondfavoritethingaboutyouis?”
Ishakemyhead.
“Youdon’tputpressureonmetobesomethingI’mincapableofbeing.YouacceptmeexactlyhowIam.”
Ismile.“Well,inallfairness,you’realittledifferentfromwhenIfirstmetyou.Youaren’tsoanti-girlfriendanymore.”
“That’sbecauseyoumakeiteasy,”hesays,slidingahandinsidethebackofmyshirt.“It’seasybeingwithyou.IcanstillhavethecareerI’vealways
wanted,butyoumakeittentimesbetterwiththewayyousupportme.WhenI’mwithyou,IfeellikeIgettohavemycakeandeatit,too.”
Nowbothofhishandsarebeneathmyshirt,pressedagainstmyback.Hepullsmetowardhimandkissesme.Igrinagainsthismouthandwhisper,“Isitthebestcakeyou’veever
tasted?”
Oneofhishandsmovestothebackofmybraandheunfastensitwithease.“I’mprettysure,butmaybeIneedanothertasteofittobepositive.”Hepullsmyshirtandbra
overmyhead.IbegintopushmyselfoffofhimsoIcanpulloffmyjeans,buthepullsmebackontohislap.Hegrabshisstethoscopeandputsitinhisears,thenpressesthediaphragmagainst
mychest,rightovermyheart.
“What’sgotyourheartsoworkedup,Lily?”
Ishruginnocently.“Itmighthavealittletodowithyou,Dr.Kincaid.”
Hedropstheendofthestethoscopeandthenliftsmeoffofhim,pushingmebackontothecouch.Hespreadsmylegsandkneelsdownonthecouchbetweenthem,placingthestethoscopeagainstmy
chestagain.Heuseshisotherhandtoholdhimselfupashecontinueslisteningtomyheart.
“I’dsayyou’reataboutninetybeatsperminute,”hesays.
“Isthatgoodorbad?”
Hegrinsandlowershimselfontopofme.“I’llbesatisfiedwhenitreachesoneforty.”
Yeah.Ifitreaches140,I’mthinkingI’llbesatisfied,too.HelowershismouthtomychestandmyeyesfallshutwhenIfeelhistongueslideacrossmybreast.Hetakesmeinhis
mouth,keepingthestethoscopepressedagainstmychesttheentiretime.“You’reataboutonehundrednow,”hesays.Hewrapsthestethoscopearoundhisneckagainandthenpulls
back,unbuttoningmyjeans.Onceheslidesthemoffofme,heturnsmeoveruntilI’monmystomach,myarmsdrapedoverthearmofthecouch.
“Getonyourknees,”hesays.
IdowhathesaysandbeforeI’mevenadjusted,Ifeelthecoldmetalofthestethoscopemeetmychestagain,thistimewithhisarmsnakedaroundmefrombehind.Iremainstillashe
listenstomyheartbeat.Hisotherhandslowlybeginstofinditswaybetweenmylegsandtheninsidemypantiesandtheninsideofme.Igripthecouchbuttrytokeepthenoisestoaminimum
whilehelistenstomyheart.
“Onehundredandten,”hesays,stillunsatisfied.
HepullsmyhipsbacktomeethimandthenIcanfeelhimfreeinghimselffromhisscrubs.Hegripsmyhipwithonehandwhileshovingmypantiesasidewiththeother.Thenhepushesforward
untilhe’sallthewayinsideofme.
I’mgraspingthecouchwithtwodesperatefistswhenhepausestolistentomyheartagain.“Lily,”hesayswithmockdisappointment.“Onetwenty.NotquitewhereIwant
you.”
Thestethoscopedisappearsagainandhisarmcurlsaroundmywaist.Hishandslidesdownmystomachandsettlesbetweenmylegs.Icannolongerkeepupwithhisrhythm.Icanbarelyevenstay
onmyknees.He’ssomehowholdingmeupwithonehandanddestroyingmeinthebestpossiblewaywithhisotherhand.RightwhenIstarttotremble,hepullsmeuprightuntilmybackmeets
hischest.He’sstillinsideme,butnowhe’sfocusedonmyheartagainashemoveshisstethoscopearoundtothefrontofmychest.
Iletoutamoanandhepresseshislipstomyear.“Shh.Nonoises.”
IhavenoideahowImakeitthroughthenextthirtysecondswithoutmakinganothersound.Oneofhisarmsiswrappedaroundmewiththestethoscopepressedtomychest.Hisotherarmistight
againstmystomachashishandcontinuesitsmagicbetweenmylegs.He’sstillsomehowdeepinsidemeandI’mtryingtomoveagainsthim,buthe’srocksolidasthetremorsbegin
torushthroughme.Mylegsareshakingandmyhandsareatmysides,grippingthetopsofhisthighsasittakeseveryounceofmystrengthnottoscreamouthisname.
I’mstillshakingwhenheliftsmyhandandplacesthediaphragmagainstmywrist.Afterseveralseconds,hepullsthestethoscopeawayandtossesittothefloor.“Onefifty,”
hesayswithsatisfaction.Hepullsoutofmeandflipsmeontomybackandthenhismouthisonmineandhe’sinsidemeagain.
MybodyistooweaktomoveandIcan’tevenopenmyeyesandwatchhim.Hethrustsagainstmeseveraltimesandthenholdsstill,groaningintomymouth.Hedropsontopofme,tense,yet
shaking.
Hekissesmyneckandthenhislipsmeetthetattoooftheheartonmycollarbone.Hefinallysettlesagainstmyneckandsighs.
“HaveIalreadymentionedtonighthowmuchIlikeyou?”heasks.
Ilaugh.“Onceortwice.”
“Considerthisthethirdtime,”hesays.“Ilikeyou.Everythingaboutyou,Lily.Beinginsideofyou.Beingoutsideofyou.Beingnearyou.Ilikeitall.”
Ismile,lovinghowhiswordsfeelagainstmyskin.Insidemyheart.IopenmymouthtotellhimIlikehim,too,butmyvoiceiscutoffbythesoundofhisphone.
Hegroansagainstmyneckandthenpullsoutofmeandreachesforhisphone.HepullshisscrubsbackintoplaceandlaughsashelooksathiscallerID
“It’smymother,”hesays,leaningoverandkissingthetopofmykneethat’srestingagainstthebackofthecouch.Hetossesthephoneasideandthenstandsandwalks
overtomydesk,grabbingaboxoftissues.
Thisisalwaysawkward,havingtocleanupaftersex.ButIcan’tsayit’severbeenthisawkwardbefore,knowinghismotherisontheotherendofthatring.
Onceallmyclothesarebackinplace,hepullsmeagainsthimonthecouchandIliedownontopofhim,restingmyheadonhischest.
It’saftertennowandI’msocomfortableIdebatejustsleepinghereforthenight.Ryle’sphonemakesanothernoise,alertinghimtoanewvoicemail.Thethoughtofseeing
himinteractwithhismothermakesmesmile.Allysatalksabouttheirparentssome,butI’veneverreallytalkedtoRyleaboutthembefore.
“Doyougetalongwithyourparents?”
Hisarmisstrokingminegently.“Yeah,Ido.They’regoodpeople.WehitaroughpatchwhenIwasateenager,butweworkedthroughit.Italktomymotheralmostdaily
now.”
Ifoldmyarmsoverhischestandrestmychinonthem,lookingupathim.“Willyoutellmemoreaboutyourmother?AllysatoldmetheymovedtoEnglandafewyearsago.Andthatthey
wereinAustraliaonvacation,butthatwaslikeamonthago.”
Helaughs.“Mymother?Well…mymotherisveryoverbearing.Veryjudgmental,especiallyofthepeopleshelovesthemost.She’snevermissedasinglechurch
service.AndIhaveneverheardherrefertomyfatherasanythingotherthanDr.Kincaid.”
Despitethewarnings,hesmilesthewholetimehetalksabouther.
“Yourfatherisadoctor,too?”
Henods.“Psychiatrist.Hechoseafieldthatalsoallowedhimtohaveanormallife.Smartman.”
“DotheyevervisityouinBoston?”
“Notreally.Mymotherhatesflying,soAllysaandIflytoEnglandacoupleoftimesayear.Shedoeswanttomeetyou,though,soyoumightbegoingwithusonthenexttrip.”
Igrin.“You’vetoldyourmotheraboutme?”
“Ofcourse,”hesays.“Thisiskindofamonumentalthing,youknow.Mehavingagirlfriend.ShecallsmeeverydaytomakesureIhaven’tscreweditup
somehow.”
Ilaugh,whichmakeshimreachforhisphone.“YouthinkI’mkidding?Iguaranteeshesomehowbroughtyouupinthevoicemailshejustleft.”Hepressesafewkeysandthen
beginstoplaythevoicemail.
“Hey,sweetheart!It’syourmom.Haven’tspokentoyousinceyesterday.Missyou.GiveLilyahugforme.Youdostillseeher,right?Allysasaysyoucan’tstop
talkingabouther.Sheisstillyourgirlfriend,right?Okay.Gretchen’shere,we’rehavinghightea.Loveyou.Kisskiss.”
Ipressmyfaceagainsthischestandlaugh.“We’veonlybeendatingafewmonths.Howmuchdoyoutalkaboutme?”
Hepullsmyhandupbetweenusandkissesit.“Toomuch,Lily.Waytoomuch.”
Ismile.“Ican’twaittomeetthem.Notonlydidtheyraiseanincredibledaughter,buttheymadeyou.That’sprettyimpressive.”
Hisarmstightenaroundmeandhekissesthetopofmyhead.
“Whatwasyourbrother’sname?”Iaskhim.
IcanfeelaslightstiffnessinhimafterIaskthat.Iregretbringingitup,butit’stoolatetotakeitback
“Emerson.”
Icantellbyhisvoicethatit’snotsomethinghewantstotalkaboutrightnow.Insteadofpressingitfurther,Iliftmyheadandscootforward,pressingmymouthtohis.
Ishouldknowbetter.Kissescan’tseemtostopatjustkisseswhenitcomestomeandRyle.Inamatterofminutes,he’sinsideofmeagain,butthistimeit’severythingthe
othertimewasn’t.
Thistimewemakelove.ChapterFourteen
Myphonerings.IpickituptoseewhoitisandI’malittletakenaback.It’sthefirsttimeRylehasevercalledme.Wealwaysjusttext.Howoddtohavea
boyfriendforoverthreemonthsthatI’veneveroncespokentoonthephone.
“Hello?”
“Hey,girlfriend,”hesays.
Ismilecheesilyatthesoundofhisvoice.“Hey,boyfriend.”
“Guesswhat?”
“What?”
“I’mtakingthedayofftomorrow.Yourfloralshopdoesn’topenuntiloneo’clockonSundays.I’monmywaytoyourapartmentwithtwobottlesofwine.Youwantto
haveasleepoverwithyourboyfriendandhavedrunkensexallnightandsleepuntilnoon?”
It’sreallyembarrassingwhathiswordsdotome.Ismileandsay,“Guesswhat?”
“What?”
“I’mcookingyoudinner.AndI’mwearinganapron.”
“Ohyeah?”hesays.
“Justanapron.”AndthenIhangup.
Afewsecondslater,Igetatextmessage.
Ryle:Pic,please.
Me:Getoverhereandyoucantakethepictureyourself.
I’malmostfinishedpreparingthecasserolemixturewhenthedooropens.Ipouritintotheglasspananddon’tturnaroundwhenIhearhimwalkintothekitchen.WhenIsaidIwas
justwearinganapron,Imeantit.I’mnotevenwearingpanties.
IcanhearhimsuckinarushofairwhenIreachovertotheovenandstickthecasseroleinside.ImightreachalittletoofarforshowwhenIdoit.WhenIclosetheoven,Idon’tface
him.Igrabaragandstartwipingdowntheoven,makingsuretoswaymyhipsasmuchaspossible.IsquealwhenIfeelapiercingstingonmyrightbuttcheek.IspinaroundandRyleisgrinning,
holdingtwobottlesofwine.
“Didyoujustbiteme?”
Hegivesmeaninnocentlook.“Don’ttemptthescorpionifyoudon’twanttogetstung.”Heeyesmeupanddownwhileheopensoneofthebottles.Heholdsitupbefore
hepoursusaglassandsays,“It’svintage.”
“Vintage,”Isaywithmockimpression.“What’sthespecialoccasion?”
Hehandsmeaglassandsays,“I’mgoingtobeanuncle.Ihaveasmokinghotgirlfriend.AndIgettoperformaveryrare,possiblyonce-in-a-lifetimecraniopagusseparationon
Monday.”
“Acranio-what?”
Hefinishesoffhisglassofwineandpourshimselfanotherone.“Craniopagusseparation.Conjoinedtwins,”hesays.Hepointstoaspotonthetopofhisheadandtapsit.
“Attachedrighthere.We’vebeenstudyingthemsincetheywereborn.It’saveryraresurgery.Veryrare.”
Forthefirsttime,IthinkI’mgenuinelyturnedonbyhimasadoctor.Imean,Iadmirehisdrive.Iadmirehisdedication.Butseeinghowexcitedheisaboutwhathe’sdoingfora
livingisseriouslysexy.
“Howlongdoyouthinkit’lltake?”Iask.
Heshrugs.“Notsure.They’reyoung,sobeingundergeneralanesthesiafortoolongisaconcern.”Heholdsuphisrighthandandwiggleshisfingers.“Butthisisavery
specialhandthathasbeenthroughalmosthalfamilliondollars’worthofspecialtyeducation.Ihavealotoffaithinthishand.”
Iwalkovertohimandpressmylipstohispalm.“I’malittlefondofthishand,too.”
HeslidesthehanddowntomyneckandthenspinsmesothatI’mflushagainstthecounter.Igasp,becauseIwasn’texpectingthat.
Hepusheshimselfagainstmefrombehindandslowlyslideshishanddownthesideofmybody.Ipressmypalmsintothegraniteandclosemyeyes,alreadyfeelingtherushofthewine.
“Thishand,”hewhispers,“isthesteadiesthandinallofBoston.”
Hepushesonthebackofmyneck,bendingmefurtheroverthecounter.Hishandmeetstheinsideofmykneeandheglidesitupward.Slowly.Jesus.
Hepushesmylegsapart,andthenhisfingersareinsideme.Imoanandtrytofindsomethingtoholdonto.Igripthefaucet,justashebeginstoworkmagic.
Andthen,justlikeamagician,hishanddisappears.
Ihearhimwalkingoutofthekitchen.Iwatchashepassesthefrontofthecounter.Hewinksatme,downstherestofhisglassofwineandsays,“I’mgonnatakeaquick
shower.”
Whatatease.
“Youasshole!”Iyellafterhim.
“I’mnotanasshole!”heyellsfrommybedroom.“I’mahighlytrainedneurosurgeon!”
Ilaughandpourmyselfanotherglassofwine.
I’llshowhimwhotheteasereallyis.
???
I’monmythirdglassofwinewhenhewalksoutofmybedroom.
I’monthephonewithmymother,soIwatchhimfromthecouchashemakeshiswaytothekitchenandpourshimselfanotherglass.
Thatissomeseriouslygoodwine.
“Whatareyoudoingtonight?”mymotherasks.
Ihaveheronspeakerphone.Ryleisleaningagainstawall,watchingmetalktoher.“Notmuch.HelpingRylestudy.”
“Thatsounds…notveryinteresting,”shesays.
Rylewinksatme.
“It’sactuallyveryinteresting,”Isaytoher.“Ihelphimstudyalot.Mostlyreviewingfine-motorcontrolofthehands.Infact,we’llprobablybeupallnight
studying.”
Thethreeglassesofwinehasmademefrisky.Ican’tbelieveI’mflirtingwithhimwhileI’monthephonewithmymother.Gross.
“Igottago,”Itellher.“We’retakingAllysaandMarshallouttodinnertomorrownight,soI’llcallyouonMonday.”
“Oh,whereareyoutakingthem?”
Irollmyeyes.Thewomancan’ttakeahint.“Idon’tknow.Ryle,wherearewetakingthem?”
“Thatplacewewenttothatonetimewithyourmom,”hesays.“Bib’s?Imadereservationsforsixo’clock.”
Myheartfeelslikeitslinksdownmychest.Mymothersays,“Oh,goodchoice.”
“Yeah.Ifyoulikestalebread.Bye,Mom.”IhangupandlookatRyle.“Idon’twanttogobackthere.Ididn’tlikeit.Let’strysomethingnew.”
IfailtotellhimwhyIreallydon’twanttogobackthere.Buthowdoyoutellyourbrand-newboyfriendthatyou’retryingtoavoidyourfirstlove?
Rylepushesoffthewall.“You’llbefine,”hesays.“Allysa’sexcitedtoeatthere,Itoldherallaboutit.”
MaybeI’llgetluckyandAtlaswon’tbeworking.
“Speakingoffood,”Rylesays.“I’mstarving.”
Thecasserole!
“Ohshit!”Isay,laughing.
RylerushestothekitchenandIstandupandfollowhiminthere.Iwalkinjustashepullstheovendooropenandwavesawaythesmoke.Ruined.
Igetdizzyallofasuddenfromstandinguptoofastafterhavingthreeglassesofwine.Igrabthecounterbesidehimtosteadymyself,justashereachesintopulltheburntcasserole
out
“Ryle!Youneeda…”
“Shit!”heyells.
“Potholder.”
Thecasserolefallsfromhishandandlandsonthefloor,shatteringeverywhere.Iliftupmyfeettoavoidbrokenglassandmushroomchickensplatter.IstartlaughingassoonasIrealizehe
didn’teventhinktouseapotholder.
Mustbethewine.Thisissomeseriouslystrongwine.
Heslamstheovenshutandmovestothefaucet,shovinghishandunderthecoldwater,mutteringcursewords.I’mtryingtosuppressmylaughter,butthewineandtheridiculousnessofthe
lastfewsecondsaremakingithard.Ilookatthefloor—atthemesswe’reabouttohavetocleanup—andthelaughterburstsfromme.I’mstilllaughingasIleanoverto
getalookatRyle’shand.Ihopehedidn’thurtittoobad.
I’minstantlynotlaughinganymore.I’monthefloor,myhandpressedagainstthecornerofmyeye.
Inamatterofonesecond,Ryle’sarmcameoutofnowhereandslammedagainstme,knockingmebackward.Therewasenoughforcebehindittoknockmeoffbalance.WhenIlostmyfooting,I
hitmyfaceononeofthecabinetdoorhandlesasIcamedown.
Painshootsthroughthecornerofmyeye,rightnearmytemple.
AndthenIfeeltheweight.
Heavinessfollowsanditpressesdownoneverypartofme.Somuchgravity,pushingdownonmyemotions.Everythingshatters.
Mytears,myheart,mylaughter,mysoul.Shatteredlikebrokenglass,rainingdownaroundme.
Iwrapmyarmsovermyheadandtrytowishawaythelasttenseconds.
“Goddammit,Lily,”Ihearhimsay.“It’snotfunny.Thishandismyfuckingcareer.”
Idon’tlookupathim.Hisvoicedoesn’tpenetratethroughmybodythistime.Itfeelslikeit’sstabbingmenow,thesharpnessofeachofhiswordscomingatmelikeswords.
ThenIfeelhimnexttome,hisgoddamnhandonmyback.
Rubbing.
“Lily,”hesays.“Oh,God.Lily.”Hetriestopullmyarmsfrommyhead,butIrefusetobudge.Istartshakingmyhead,wantingthelastfifteensecondstogo
away.Fifteenseconds.That’sallittakestocompletelychangeeverythingaboutaperson.
Fifteensecondsthatwe’llnevergetback.
Hepullsmeagainsthimandstartskissingthetopofmyhead.“I’msosorry.Ijust…Iburnedmyhand.Ipanicked.Youwerelaughingand…
I’msosorry,itallhappenedsofast.Ididn’tmeantopushyou,Lily,I’msorry.”
Idon’thearRyle’svoicethistime.AllIhearismyfather’svoice.
“I’msorry,Jenny.Itwasanaccident.I’msosorry.”
“I’msorry,Lily.Itwasanaccident.I’msosorry.”
Ijustwanthimawayfromme.IuseeveryounceofstrengthIhaveinbothmyhandsandlegsandIforcehimthefuckawayfromme.
Hefallsbackward,ontohishands.Hiseyesarefullofgenuinesorrow,butthenthey’refullofsomethingelse.
Worry?Panic?
Heslowlypullsuphisrighthandandit’scoveredinblood.Bloodistricklingoutofhispalm,downhiswrist.Ilookatthefloor—attheshatteredpiecesofglassfromthe
casseroledishHishand.Ijustpushedhimontoglass.
Heturnsaroundandpullshimselfup.Hestickshishandunderthestreamofwaterandstartsrinsingawaytheblood.Istandup,justashepullsasliverofglassoutofhispalmandtossesit
onthecounter.
I’mfullofsomuchanger,butsomehow,concernforhishandstillfindsitswayout.Igrabatowelandshoveitintohisfist.There’ssomuchblood.
It’shisrighthand.
HissurgeryMonday.
Itrytohelpstopthebleeding,butI’mshakingtoobad.“Ryle,yourhand.”
Hepullsthehandawayand,withhisgoodhand,heliftsmychin.“Fuckthehand,Lily.Idon’tcareaboutmyhand.Areyouokay?”He’slookingbackandforth
betweenmyeyesfranticallyasheassessesthecutonmyface.
Myshouldersbegintoshakeandhuge,hurt-filledtearsspilldownmycheeks.“No.”I’malittleinshock,andIknowhecanhearmyheartbreakingwithjustthatoneword,
becauseIcanfeelitineverypartofme.“OhmyGod.Youpushedme,Ryle.You…”Therealizationofwhathasjusthappenedhurtsworsethantheactual
action.
Rylewrapshisarmaroundmyneckanddesperatelyholdsmeagainsthim.“I’msosorry,Lily.God,I’msosorry.”Heburieshisfaceagainstmyhair,squeezingme
witheveryemotioninsideofhim.“Pleasedon’thateme.Please.”
HisvoiceslowlystartstobecomeRyle’svoiceagain,andIfeelitinmystomach,inmytoes.Hisentirecareerdependsonhishand,soithastosaysomethingthathe’snoteven
worriedaboutit.Right?I’msoconfused.
There’stoomuchhappening.Thesmoke,thewine,thebrokenglass,thefoodsplatteredeverywhere,theblood,theanger,theapologies,it’stoomuch
“I’msosorry,”hesaysagain.IpullbackandhiseyesareredandI’veneverseenhimlooksosad.“Ipanicked.Ididn’tmeantopushyouaway,Ijust
panicked.AllIcouldthinkaboutwasthesurgeryMondayandmyhandand…I’msosorry.”Hepresseshismouthtomineandbreathesmein.
He’snotlikemyfather.Hecan’tbe.He’snothinglikethatuncaringbastard.
We’rebothupsetandkissingandconfusedandsad.I’veneverfeltanythinglikethismoment—souglyandpainful.Butsomehowtheonlythingthateasesthehurtjustcausedby
thismanisthisman.Mytearsaresoothedbyhissorrow,myemotionssoothedwithhismouthagainstmine,hishandgrippingmelikeheneverwantstoletgo.
Ifeelhisarmsgoaroundmywaistandhepicksmeup,carefullysteppingthroughthemesswe’vemade.Ican’ttellifI’mmoredisappointedinhimormyself.Himforlosing
histemperinthefirstplaceormeforsomehowfindingcomfortinhisapology.
Hecarriesmeandkissesmeallthewaytomybedroom.He’sstillkissingmewhenhelowersmetothebedandwhispers,“I’msorry,Lily.”Hemoveshislipstothespot
onmyeyethathitthecabinet,andhekissesmethere.“I’msosorry.”
Hismouthisonmineagain,hotandwet,andIdon’tevenknowwhat’shappeningtome.I’mhurtingsomuchontheinside,yetmybodycraveshisapologyintheformofhis
mouthandhandsonme.IwanttolashoutathimandreactlikeIalwayswishmymotherwouldhavereactedwhenmyfatherhurther,butdeepdownIwanttobelievethatitreallywasanaccident.
Ryleisn’tlikemyfather.He’snothinglikehim
Ineedtofeelhissorrow.Hisregret.Igetbothofthesethingsinthewayhekissesme.Ispreadmylegsforhimandhissorrowcomesinanotherform.Slow,apologeticthrustsinsideofme.
Everytimeheentersme,hewhispersanotherapology.Andbysomemiracle,everytimehepullsoutofme,myangerleaveswithhim.
???
He’skissingmyshoulder.Mycheek.Myeye.He’sstillontopofme,touchingmegently.I’veneverbeentouchedlikethis…withsuch
tenderness.Itrytoforgetwhathappenedinthekitchen,butit’severythingrightnow
Hepushedmeawayfromhim.
Rylepushedme.
Forfifteenseconds,Isawasideofhimthatwasn’thim.Thatwasn’tme.IlaughedathimwhenIshouldhavebeenconcerned.Heshovedmewhenheshouldhavenever
touchedme.Ipushedhimawayandcausedhimtocuthishand.
Itwasawful.Thewholething,theentirefifteensecondsitlasted,wasabsolutelyawful.Ineverwanttothinkaboutitagain.
Hestillhastheragballedupinhishandandit’ssoakedwithblood.Ipushagainsthischest.
“I’llberightback,”Itellhim.Hekissesmeonemoretimeandrollsoffofme.Iwalktothebathroomandclosethedoor.Ilookinthemirrorandgasp.
Blood.Inmyhair,onmycheeks,onmybody.It’sallhisblood.Igrabaragandtrytowashsomeoff,andthenIlookunderthesinkforthefirstaidkit.Ihavenoideahowbadhis
handis.Firstheburnedit,thenhesliceditopen.Notevenanhourafterhewasjusttellingmehowimportantthissurgerywastohim.
Nomorewine.We’reneverallowedvintagewineagain.
Igrabtheboxfromunderthesinkandopenthebedroomdoor.He’swalkingbackintothebedroomfromthekitchenwithasmallbagofice.Heholdsitup,“Foryoureye,”he
says.
Iholdupthefirstaidkit.“Foryourhand.”
Webothsmileandthensitbackdownonthebed.HeleansagainsttheheadboardwhileIpullhishandtomylap.ThewholetimeI’mdressinghiswound,he’sholdingthebagofice
againstmyeye.
Isqueezesomeantisepticcreamontomyfingeranddabitagainsttheburnsonhisfingers.Theydon’tlookasbadasIthoughttheymightbe,sothat’sarelief.“Canyou
preventitfromblistering?”Iaskhim.
Heshakeshishead.“Notifit’ssecond-degree.”
IwanttoaskhimifhecanstillperformthesurgeryifhisfingershaveblistersonthemcomeMonday,butIdon’tbringitup.I’msurethat’sontheforefrontofhismind
rightnow.
“Doyouwantmetoputsomeonyourcut?”
Henods.Thebleedinghasstopped.I’msureifheneededstitches,he’dgetsome,butIthinkit’llbefine.IpulltheACEbandageoutofthefirstaidkitandbeginwrapping
hishand.
“Lily,”hewhispers.Ilookupathim.Hisheadisrestingagainsttheheadboard,anditlookslikehewantstocry.“Ifeelterrible,”hesays.“IfIcouldtakeit
back…”
“Iknow,”Isay,cuttinghimoff.“Iknow,Ryle.Itwasterrible.Youpushedme.YoumademequestioneverythingIthoughtIknewaboutyou.ButIknowyoufeelbadaboutit.
Wecan’ttakeitback.Idon’twanttobringitupagain.”Isecurethebandagearoundhishandandthenlookhimintheeye.“ButRyle?Ifanythinglikethateverhappens
again…I’llknowthatthistimewasn’tjustanaccident.AndI’llleaveyouwithoutasecondthought.”
Hestaresatmeforalongtime,hiseyebrowsdrawnapartinregret.Heleansforwardandpresseshislipsagainstmine.“Itwon’thappenagain,Lily.Iswear.I’mnotlike
him.Iknowthat’swhatyou’rethinking,butIsweartoyou…”
Ishakemyhead,wantinghimtostop.Ican’ttakethepaininhisvoice.“Iknowyou’renothinglikemyfather,”Isay.“Just…please
don’tevermakemedoubtyouagain.Please.”
Hebrusheshairfrommyforehead.“You’rethemostimportantpartofmylife,Lily.Iwanttobewhatbringsyouhappiness.Notwhatcausesyoutohurt.”Hekissesmeandthen
standsupandleansoverme,pressingtheicetomyface.“Holdthishereforabouttenmoreminutes.It’llpreventitfromswelling.”
Ireplacehishandwithmine.“Whereareyougoing?”
Hekissesmeontheforeheadandsays,“Tocleanupmymess.”
Hespendsthenexttwentyminutescleaningthekitchen.Icanhearglassbeingtossedintothetrashcan,winebeingpouredoutinthesink.Igotothebathroomandtakeaquickshowertoget
hisbloodoffofmeandthenIchangethesheetsonmybed.Whenhefinallyhasthekitchencleanedup,hecomestothebedroomwithaglass.Hehandsittome.“It’ssoda,”he
says.“Thecaffeinewillhelp.”
Itakeadrinkofitandfeelitfizzdownmythroat.It’sactuallytheperfectthing.Itakeanotherdrinkandsetitonmynightstand.“What’sithelpwith?The
hangover?”
Ryleslidesintobedandpullsthecoversoverus.Heshakeshishead.“No,Idon’tthinksodaactuallyhelpsanything.MymomjustusedtogivemeasodaafterI’dhadabad
dayanditalwaysmademefeelalittlebetter.”
Ismile.“Well,itworked.”
HebrusheshishanddownmycheekandIcanseeinhiseyesandinthewayhetouchesmethathedeservesatleastonechanceatforgiveness.IfeelifIdon’tfindawaytoforgivehim,
I’llsomewhatbeplacingblameonhimfortheresentmentIstillholdformyfather.He’snotlikemyfather.
Rylelovesme.He’snevercomeoutandsaiditbefore,butIknowhedoes.AndIlovehim.WhathappenedinthekitchentonightissomethingI’mconfidentwon’thappenagain.
Notafterseeinghowupsetheisthathehurtme.
Allhumansmakemistakes.Whatdeterminesaperson’scharacteraren’tthemistakeswemake.It’showwetakethosemistakesandturnthemintolessonsratherthanexcuses.
Ryle’seyessomehowgrowevenmoresincereandheleansoverandkissesmyhand.Hesettleshisheadintothepillowandwejustliethere,staringateachother,sharingthisunspoken
energythatfillsalltheholesthenighthasleftinus.
Afterafewminutes,hesqueezesmyhand.“Lily,”hesays,brushinghisthumbovermine.“I’minlovewithyou.”
Ifeelhiswordsineverypartofme.AndwhenIwhisper,“Iloveyou,too,”it’sthemostnakedtruthI’veeverspokentohim.ChapterFifteen
Iarriveattherestaurantfifteenminuteslate.RightwhenIwasabouttoclosetonightIhadacustomercomeintoorderflowersforafuneral.Icouldn’tturnthem
awaybecause…sadly…funeralsarethebestbusinessforflorists.
RylewavesmeovertothetableandIwalkstraighttothem,doingmybestnottolookaround.Idon’twanttoseeAtlas.Itriedtwicetogetthemtochangetherestaurantlocation,but
Allysawashell-bentoneatinghereafterRyletoldherhowgooditwas.
IslideintotheboothandRyleleansoverandkissesmeonthecheek.“Hey,girlfriend.”
Allysagroans.“God,youguysaresocute,it’ssickening.”Ismileather,andhereyesimmediatelygotothecornerofmyeye.Itdoesn’tlookasbadasIthoughtit
mighttoday,whichisprobablyduetoRyleforcingmetokeepiceonit.“OhmyGod,”Allysasays.“RyletoldmewhathappenedbutIdidn’tthinkitwasthatbad.”
IglanceatRyle,wonderingwhathetoldher.Thetruth?Hesmilesandsays,“Oliveoilwaseverywhere.Whensheslipped,itwassogracefulyou’dthinkshewasa
ballerina.”
Alie.
Fairenough.Iwouldhavedonethesamething.
“Itwasprettypathetic,”Isaywithalaugh.
Somehow,wegetthroughdinnerwithoutahitch.NosignofAtlas,nothoughtsoflastnight,andRyleandIbothavoidthewine.Afterwe’refinishedwithourfood,ourwaiterapproaches
thetable.“Carefordessert?”heasks.
Ishakemyhead,butAllysaperksup.“Whatdoyouhave?”
Marshalllooksjustasinterested.“We’reeatingfortwo,sowe’lltakeanythingchocolate,”hesays.
Thewaiternods,andwhenhewalksaway,AllysalooksatMarshall.“Thisbabyisthesizeofabedbugrightnow.Youbetternotencouragebadhabitsforthenextseveralmonths.”
Thewaiterreturnswithadessertcart.“Thechefgivesallexpectantmothersdessertonthehouse,”hesays.“Congratulations.”
“Hedoes?”Allysasays,perkingup
“Guessthat’swhyit’scalledBib’s,”Marshallsays.“Cheflikesthebabies.”
Wealllookatthecart.“Oh,God,”Isay,lookingattheoptions.
“Thisismynewfavoriterestaurant,”Allysasays.
Wepickoutthreedessertsforthetable.Thefourofusspendthetimewaitingforittobeserveddiscussingbabynames.
“No,”AllysasaystoMarshall.“We’renotnamingthisbabyafterastate.”
“ButIloveNebraska,”hewhines.“Idaho?”
Allysadropsherheadinherhands.“Thisisgoingtobethedemiseofourmarriage.”
“Demise,”Marshallsays.“That’sactuallyagoodname.”
Marshall’smurderisthwartedbythearrivalofdessert.OurwaiterplacesapieceofchocolatecakeinfrontofAllysa,andstepsasidetomakeroomforthewaiterbehindhimwhois
holdingtheothertwodesserts.Thewaitermotionstowardtheguyplacingourdessertsdownandsays,“Thechefwouldliketoextendhiscongratulations.”
“Howwasthemeal?”thechefasks,lookingatAllysaandMarshall.
Bythetimehiseyesmakeittomine,myanxietyisseepingfromme.Atlaslockseyeswithme,andwithoutthinking,Iblurtout,“You’rethechef?”
ThewaiterleansaroundAtlasandsays.“Thechef.Theowner.Sometimeswaiter,sometimesdishwasher.Hegivesanewmeaningtohands-on.”
Thenextfivesecondsgounnoticedbyeveryoneatourtable,buttheyplayoutinslowmotiontome.
Atlas’seyesfalltothecutonmyeye.
ThebandagewrappedaroundRyle’shand.
Backtomyeye.
“Weloveyourrestaurant,”Allysasays.“Youhaveanincredibleplacehere.”
Atlasdoesn’tlookather.Iseetherollofhisthroatasheswallows.Hisjawhardensandhesaysnothingashewalksaway.
Shit.
ThewaitertriestocoverforAtlas’shastyretreatbysmilingandshowingwaytoomanyteeth.“Enjoyyourdessert,”hesays,scufflingofftothekitchen.
“Bummer,”Allysasays.“Wefindanewfavoriterestaurantandthechefisanasshole.”
Rylelaughs.“Yeah,buttheassholesarethebestones.GordonRamsay?”
“Goodpoint,”Marshallsays.
IputmyhandonRyle’sarm.“Bathroom,”Itellhim.
HenodsasIscootoutofthebooth,andMarshallsays,“WhataboutWolfgangPuck?Youthinkhe’sanasshole?”
Iwalkacrosstherestaurant,headdown,fastpaced.AssoonasIgetintothefamiliarhallway,Ikeepgoing.Ipushopenthedoortothewomen’srestroomandthenturnaroundandlock
it.
Shit.Shit,shit,shit.
Thelookinhiseye.Theangerinhisjaw.
I’mrelievedhewalkedaway,butI’mhalf-convincedhe’sprobablygoingtobewaitingoutsidetherestaurantwhenweleave,readytokickRyle’sass
Ibreatheinmynose,outmymouth,washmyhands,repeatthebreathing.OnceI’mmorecalm,Idrymyhandsonatowel.
I’lljustgobackoutthereandtellRyleI’mnotfeelingwell.We’llleaveandwe’llnevercomeback.Theyallthinkthechefisanasshole,sothatcanbemy
excuse.
Iunlockthedoor,butIdon’tpullitopen.Itstartspushingopenfromtheotherside,soIstepback.Atlasstepsinsidethebathroomwithmeandlocksthedoor.Hisbackrestsagainst
thedoorashestaresatme,focusedonthecutnearmyeye.
“Whathappened?”heasks.
Ishakemyhead.“Nothing.”
Hiseyesarenarrow,stillicebluebutsomehowburningwithfire.“You’relying,Lily.”
Imusterenoughofasmiletogetmeby.“Itwasanaccident.”
Atlaslaughs,butthenhisfacefallsflat.“Leavehim.”
Leavehim?
Jesus,hethinksthisissomethingelseentirely.Itakeastepforwardandshakemyhead.“He’snotlikethat,Atlas.Itwasn’tlikethat.Ryleisagoodperson.”
Hetiltshisheadandleansitforwardalittlebit.“Funny.Yousoundjustlikeyourmother.”
Hiswordssting.Iimmediatelytrytoreacharoundhimforthedoor,buthegrabsmywrist.“Leavehim,Lily.”
Iyankmyhandaway.Iturnmybacktohimandinhaleadeepbreath.IreleaseitslowlyasIfacehimagain.“Ifit’sanycomparisonatall,I’mmorescaredofyourightnow
thanI’veeverbeenofhim.”
MywordsmakeAtlaspauseforamoment.Hisnodstartsoutslowly,andthengetsmoreprominentashestepsawayfromthedoor.“Icertainlydidn’tmeantomakeyoufeel
uncomfortable.”Hemotionstowardthedoor.“Justtryingtorepaytheconcernyou’vealwaysshownme.”
Istareathimforamoment,unsurehowtotakehiswords.He’sstillragingontheinside,Icanseeit.Butontheoutside,he’scalm—collected.Allowingmetoleave.Ireach
forwardandunlockthedoor,thenpullitopen.
IgaspwhenmyeyesmeetRyle’s.IquicklyglanceovermyshouldertoseeAtlasfilingoutofthebathroomwithme.
Ryle’seyesfillwithconfusionashelooksfrommetoAtlas.“Whatthefuck,Lily?”
“Ryle.”Myvoiceshakes.God,thislookssomuchworsethanitis.
Atlasstepsaroundmeandturnstowardthedoorstothekitchen,asifRyledoesn’tevenexisttohim.Ryle’seyesaregluedtoAtlas’sback.Keepwalking,Atlas.
RightwhenAtlasreachesthekitchendoors,hepauses.
No,no,no.Keepwalking.
InwhatbecomesoneofthemostdreadfulmomentsIcanimagine,hespinsaroundandstridestowardRyle,grabbinghimbythecollarofhisshirt.Almostassoonasithappens,RyleforcesAtlas
backandslamshimagainsttheoppositewall.AtlaslungesforRyleagain,thistimeshovinghisforearmagainstRyle’sthroat,pinninghimagainstthewall.
“YoutouchheragainandI’llcutyourfuckinghandoffandshoveitdownyourthroat,youworthlesspieceofshit!”
“Atlas,stop!”Iyell.
AtlasreleasesRyleforcefully,takingahugestepback.Ryleisbreathingheavily,staringatAtlaslongandhard.Thenhisfocusmovesdirectlytome.“Atlas?”Hesayshis
namewithfamiliarity.
WhyisRylesayingAtlas’snamelikethat?Likehe’sheardmesayitbefore?I’venevertoldhimaboutAtlas.
Wait.
Idid.
Thatfirstnightontheroof.Itwasoneofmynakedtruths.
RyleletsoutadisbelievinglaughandpointsatAtlas,buthe’sstilllookingatme.“ThisisAtlas?Thehomelessboyyoupity-fucked?”
Oh,God.
Thehallwayinstantlybecomesabluroffistsandelbowsandmyscreamsforthemtostop.Twowaiterspushthroughthedoorbehindmeandshovepastme,separatingthemjustasquicklyasit
started.
They’repushedapartagainstoppositewalls,staringeachotherdown,breathingheavily.Ican’tevenlookateitherofthem.
Ican’tlookatAtlas.NotafterwhatRylejustsaidtohim.Ialsocan’tlookatRylebecausehe’sprobablythinkingtheabsoluteworstpossiblethingrightnow.
“Out!”Atlasyells,pointingatthedoor,butlookingatRyle.“Getthehelloutofmyrestaurant!”
ImeetRyle’seyesashebeginstowalkpastme,scaredofwhatI’llseeinthem.Butthereisn’tanyangerthere.
Onlyhurt.
Lotsofhurt.
Hepausesasifhe’sabouttosaysomethingtome.Buthisfacejusttwistsintodisappointmentandhewalksbackoutintotherestaurant.
IfinallyglanceupatAtlasandcanseedisappointmentallacrosshisface.BeforeIcanexplainawayRyle’swordstohim,heturnsandwalksaway,pushingthroughthekitchendoors.
IimmediatelyturnandrunafterRyle.HegrabshisjacketfromtheboothandwalkstowardtheexitwithoutevenlookingatAllysaandMarshall.
Allysalooksupatmeandholdsherhandsupinquestion.Ishakemyhead,grabmypurseandsay,“It’salongstory.We’lltalktomorrow.”
IfollowRyleoutsideandhe’swalkingtowardtheparkinglot.Iruntocatchuptohimandhejuststopsandpunchesattheair.
“Ididn’tbringmyfuckingcar!”heyells,frustrated.
Ipullmykeysoutofmypurseandhewalksuptomeandsnatchesthemfrommyhand.Again,Ifollowhim,thistimetomycar.
Idon’tknowwhattodo.Idon’tknowifheevenwantstospeaktomerightnow.HejustsawmelockedinabathroomwithaguyIusedtobeinlovewith.Then,outofnowhere,that
guyattackshim.
God,thisissobad.
Whenwereachmycar,heheadsstraightforthedriver’ssidedoor.Hepointstothepassengersideandsays,“Getin,Lily.”
Hedoesn’tspeaktometheentiretimewe’redriving.Isayhisnameonce,buthejustshakeshisheadlikehe’snotreadytohearmyexplanationyet.Whenwepullintomy
parkinggarage,hegetsoutofthecarassoonasheturnsitoff,likehecan’tgetawayfrommefastenough.
He’spacingthelengthofthecarwhenIgetout.“Itwasn’twhatitlookedlike,Ryle.Iswear.”
Hestopspacing,andwhenhelooksatme,myheartdoublesover.There’ssomuchpaininhiseyesrightnow,andit’snotevennecessary.Itwasallduetoastupid
misunderstanding.
“Ididn’twantthis,Lily,”hesays.“Ididn’twantarelationship!Ididn’twantthisstressinmylife!”
Asmuchashe’shurtingbecauseofwhathethinkshesaw,hiswordsstillpissmeoff.“Well,thenleave!”
“What?”
Ithrowmyhandsup.“Idon’twanttobeyourburden,Ryle!I’msosorrymypresenceinyourlifeissounbearable!”
Hetakesastepforward.“Lily,that’snotatallwhatI’msaying.”Hethrowshishandsupinfrustrationandthenwalkspastme.Heleansagainstmycarandfoldshis
armsoverhischest.There’salongstretchofsilencewhileIwaitforwhathehastosay.Hisheadisdown,butheliftsitslightly,lookingupatme.
“Nakedtruths,Lily.That’sallIwantfromyourightnow.Canyoupleasegivemethat?”
Inod.
“Didyouknowheworkedthere?”
Ipursemylipstogetherandwrapmyarmovermychest,grabbingatmyelbow.“Yes.That’swhyIdidn’twanttogoback,Ryle.Ididn’twanttorunintohim.”
Myanswerseemstoreleasealittleofhistension.Herunsahanddownhisface.“Didyoutellhimwhathappenedlastnight?Didyoutellhimaboutourfight?”
Itakeastepforwardandshakemyheadadamantly.“No.Heassumed.Hesawmyeyeandyourhandandhejustassumed.”
Heblowsoutaladenbreathandleanshisheadback,lookingupattheroof.Itlookslikeit’salmosttoopainfulforhimtoevenaskthenextquestion
“Whywereyoualonewithhiminthebathroom?”
Itakeanotherstepforward.“Hefollowedmeinthere.Iknownothingabouthimnow,Ryle.Ididn’tevenknowheownedthatrestaurant,Ithoughthewasjustawaiter.He’snot
apartofmylifeanymore,Iswear.Hejust…”Ifoldmyarmstogetheranddropmyvoice.“Webothgrewupinabusivehouseholds.Hesawmyfaceandyourhand
and…hewasjustworriedforme.That’sallitwas.”
Rylebringshishandsupandcovershismouth.Icanheartheairrushingthroughhisfingersashereleaseshisbreath.Hestandsupstraight,allowinghimselfamomenttosoakinall
I’vejustsaid.
“Myturn,”hesays.
Hepushesoffthecarandtakesthethreestepstowardmethatpreviouslyseparatedus.Heputsbothhandsonmycheeksandlooksmedeadintheeyes.“Ifyoudon’twanttobewith
me…pleasetellmerightnow,Lily.BecausewhenIsawyouwithhim…thathurt.Ineverwanttofeelthatagain.Andifithurtsthismuch
now,I’mterrifiedtothinkofwhatitcoulddotomeayearfromnow.”
Icanfeelthetearsbegintostreamdownmycheeks.Iplacemyhandsontopofhisandshakemyhead.“Idon’twantanyoneelse,Ryle.Ionlywantyou.”
HeforcesthesaddestsmileI’veeverseenonahuman.Hepullsmetohimandholdsmethere.IwrapmyarmsaroundhimastightasIcanashepresseshislipstothesideofmyhead.
“Iloveyou,Lily.God,Iloveyou.”
Isqueezehimtight,pressingakisstohisshoulder.“Iloveyou,too.”
IclosemyeyesandwishIcouldwashawaytheentirelasttwodays.
AtlasiswrongaboutRyle.
IjustwishAtlasknewhewaswrong.ChapterSixteen
“Imean…I’mnottryingtobeselfish,butyoudidn’ttastethedessert,Lily.”Allysagroans.“Oh,itwassooo
good.”
“We’renevergoingbackthere,”Isaytoher.
Shestompsherfootlikealittlekid.“But…”
“Nope.Wehavetorespectyourbrother’sfeelings.”
Shefoldsherarmsoverherchest.“Iknow,Iknow.WhydidyouhavetobeahormonalteenagerandfallinlovewiththebestchefinBoston?”
“Hewasn’tachefwhenIknewhim.”
“Whatever,”shesays.Shewalksoutofmyofficeandclosesthedoor.
Myphonebuzzeswithanincomingtext.
Ryle:5hoursdown.About5moretogo.Sofarsogood.Handisgreat.
Isigh,relieved.Iwasn’tsureifhe’dbeabletodothesurgerytoday,butknowinghowmuchhewaslookingforwardtoitmakesmehappyforhim.
Me:SteadiesthandsinallofBoston.
Iopenmylaptopandcheckmyemail.ThefirstthingIseeisaninquiryfromtheBostonGlobe.Iopenitandit’sfromajournalistinterestedinrunninganarticleaboutthe
store.IgrinlikeanidiotandstartemailingherbackwhenAllysaknocksonthedoor.Sheopensitandsticksherheadin.
“Hey,”shesays.
“Hey,”Isayback.
Shetapsherfingersonthedoorframe.“RememberafewminutesagowhenyoutoldmeIcouldnevergobacktoBib’sbecauseit’sunfairtoRylethattheboyyoulovedwhenyou
wereateenageristheowner?”
Ifallbackagainstmychair.“Whatdoyouwant,Allysa?”
Shescrunchesuphernoseandsays,“Ifitisn’tfairthatwecan’tgobacktherebecauseoftheowner,howisitfairthattheownergetstocomehere?”
What?
Iclosemylaptopandstandup.“Whywouldyousaythat?Ishehere?”
Shenodsandslipsinsidemyoffice,closingthedoorbehindher.“Heis.Heaskedforyou.AndIknowyou’rewithmybrotherandI’mwithchild,butcanwepleasejusttakea
momenttosilentlyadmiretheperfectionthatisthatman?”
ShesmilesdreamilyandIrollmyeyes.
“Allysa.”
“Thoseeyes,though.”Sheopensthedoorandwalksout.IfollowbehindherandcatchsightofAtlas.“She’srighthere,”Allysasays.“Wouldyoulike
metotakeyourcoat?”
Wedon’ttakecoats.
AtlasglancesupwhenIwalkoutofmyoffice.HiseyescuttoAllysaandheshakeshishead.“No,thankyou.Iwon’tbelong.”
Allysaleansforwardoverthecounter,droppingherchinonherhands.“Stayaslongasyoulike.Infact,areyoulookingforanextrajob?Lilyneedstohiremorepeopleandwe’re
lookingforsomeonewhocanliftreallyheavythings.Requiresalotofflexibility.Bendingover.”
InarrowmyeyesatAllysaandmouth,“Enough.”
Sheshrugsinnocently.IholdmydooropenforAtlas,butavoidlookingdirectlyathimashepassesme.Ifeelaworldofguiltforwhathappenedlastnight,butalsoaworldofangerforwhat
happenedlastnight.
Iwalkaroundmydeskanddropintomyseat,preparedforanargument.ButwhenIlookupathim,Iclampmymouthshut.
He’ssmiling.Hewaveshishandaroundinacircleashetakesaseatacrossfromme.“Thisisincredible,Lily.”
Ipause.“Thankyou.”
Hecontinuessmilingatme,likehe’sproudofme.Thenheplacesabagbetweenusonthedeskandpushesittowardme.“Agift,”hesays.“Youcanopenit
later.”
Whyishebuyingmegifts?Hehasagirlfriend.Ihaveaboyfriend.Ourpasthasalreadycausedenoughproblemsinmypresent.Icertainlydon’tneedgiftstoexacerbatethat.
“Whyareyoubuyingmegifts,Atlas?”
Heleansbackinhisseatandcrosseshisarmsoverhischest.“Iboughtitthreeyearsago.I’vebeenholdingontoitincaseIeverranintoyou.”
ConsiderateAtlas.Hehasn’tchanged.Dammit.
Ipickupthegiftandsetitonthefloorbehindmydesk.ItrytoreleasesomeofthetensionI’mfeeling,butit’sreallyhardwheneverythingabouthimmakesmesotense.
“Icameheretoapologizetoyou,”hesays.
Iwaveoffhisapology,lettinghimknowitisn’tnecessary.“It’sfine.Itwasamisunderstanding.Ryleisfine.”
Helaughsunderhisbreath.“That’snotwhatI’mapologizingfor,”hesays.“I’dneverapologizefordefendingyou.”
“Youweren’tdefendingme,”Isay.“Therewasnothingtodefend.”
Hetiltshishead,givingmethesamelookthathegavemelastnight.Theonethatletsmeknowhowdisappointedinmeheis.Itstingsdeepinmygut.
Iclearmythroat.“Whyareyouapologizing,then?”
He’squietforamoment.Contemplative.“Iwantedtoapologizeforsayingthatyousoundedlikeyourmother.Thatwashurtful.AndI’msorry.”
Idon’tknowwhyIalwaysfeellikecryingwhenI’maroundhim.WhenIthinkabouthim.WhenIreadabouthim.It’slikemyemotionsarestilltetheredtohimsomehowandI
can’tfigureouthowtocutthestrings.
Hiseyesdroptomydesk.Hereachesforwardandgrabsthreethings.Apen.Astickynote.Myphone.
Hewritessomethingdownonthestickynoteandthenproceedstopullmyphoneapart.Heslipsthecaseoffandputsthestickynotebetweenthecaseandthephone,thenslidesthecoverback
overit.Hepushesmyphonebackacrossthedesk.Ilookdownatitandthenupathim.Hestandsupandtossesthepenonmydesk.
“It’smycellphonenumber.Keepithiddenthereincaseyoueverneedit.”
Iwinceatthegesture.Theunnecessarygesture.“Iwon’tneedit.”
“Ihopenot.”Hewalkstothedoorandreachesforthedoorknob.AndIknowthisismyonlychancetogetoutwhatIhavetosaybeforehe’soutofmylifeforever.
“Atlas,wait.”
Istandupsofast,mychairscootsacrosstheroomandbumpsagainstthewall.Hehalfturnsandfacesme.
“WhatRylesaidtoyoulastnight?Inever…”Ibringanervoushanduptomyneck.Icanfeelmyheartbeatinginmythroat.“Ineversaidthatto
him.Hewashurtandupsetandhemisconstruedmywordsfromalongtimeago.”
ThecornerofAtlas’smouthtwitches,andI’mnotsureifhe’stryingnottosmileortryingnottofrown.Hefacesmestraighton.“Believeme,Lily.Iknowthat
wasn’tapityfuck.Iwasthere.”
Hewalksoutthedoor,andhiswordsknockmestraightbackintomyseat.
Only…myseatisnolongerthere.It’sstillontheothersideofmyofficeandI’mnowonthefloor.
AllysarushesinandI’mlyingonmybackbehindmydesk.“Lily?”Sherunsaroundthedeskandstandsoverme.“Areyouokay?”
Iholdupathumb.“Fine.Justmissedmychair.”
Shereachesoutherhandandhelpsmetomyfeet.“Whatwasthatallabout?”
IglanceatthedoorasIretrievemychair.Itakeaseatandlookdownatmyphone.“Nothing.Hewasjustapologizing.”
Allysasighslonginglyandlooksbackatthedoor.“Sodoesthatmeanhedoesn’twantthejob?”
I’vegottohandittoher.Eveninthemidstofemotionalturmoil,shecanmakemelaugh.“GetbacktoworkbeforeIdockyourpay.”
Shelaughsandmakestoleave.Itapmypenagainstmydeskandthensay,“Allysa.Wait.”
“Iknow,”shesays,cuttingmeoff.“Ryledoesn’tneedtoknowaboutthatvisit.Youdon’thavetotellme.”
Ismile.“Thankyou.”
Sheclosesthedoor.
Ireachdownandpickupthebagwithmythree-year-oldgiftinsideofit.Ipullitoutandcaneasilytellit’sabook,wrappedintissuepaper.Itearthetissuepaperawayandfall
againstthebackofmychair.
There’sapictureofEllenDeGeneresonthefront.ThetitleisSeriously…I’mKidding.Ilaughandthenopenthebook,gaspingquietlywhenIsee
it’sautographed.Irunmyfingersoverthewordsoftheinscription.
Lily,
Atlassaysjustkeepswimming.
—EllenDeGeneres
Irunmyfingeroverhersignature.ThenIdropthebookonmydesk,pressmyforeheadagainstit,andfakecryagainstthecover.ChapterSeventeen
It’saftersevenbeforeIgethome.Rylecalledanhouragoandsaidhewouldn’tbecomingovertonight.Theconfusher-cackle(whateverthatbigwordheusedwas)
separationwasasuccess,buthe’sstayingatthehospitalovernighttomakesuretherearen’tcomplications.
Iwalkinthedoortomyquietapartment.Ichangeintomyquietpajamas.Ieataquietsandwich.AndthenIliedowninmyquietbedroomandopenmyquietnewbook,hopingitcanquietmy
emotions.
Sureenough,threehoursandthemajorityofabooklater,alltheemotionsfromthelastseveraldaysbegintoseepoutofme.IplaceabookmarkonthepagewhereIstoppedreadingandIclose
it.
Istareatthebookforalongtime.IthinkaboutRyle.IthinkaboutAtlas.Ithinkabouthowsometimes,nomatterhowconvincedyouarethatyourlifewillturnoutacertainway,allthat
certaintycanbewashedawaywithasimplechangeintide.
ItakethebookAtlasboughtmeandputitintheclosetwithallmyjournals.ThenIpickuptheonethat’sfilledwithmemoriesofhim.AndIknowit’sfinallytimetoreadthe
lastentryIwrote.ThenIcanclosethebookforgood.
DearEllen,
MostofthetimeI’mthankfulyoudon’tknowIexistandthatI’veneverreallymailedyouanyofthesethingsIwritetoyou.
Butsometimes,especiallytonight,Iwishyoudid.IjustneedsomeonetotalktoabouteverythingI’mfeeling.It’sbeensixmonthssinceI’veseenAtlasandIhonestly
don’tknowwhereheisorhowhe’sdoing.SomuchhashappenedsincethelastletterIwrotetoyou,whenAtlasmovedtoBoston.IthoughtitwasthelasttimeI’dseehimfora
while,butitwasn’t.
Isawhimagainafterheleft,severalweekslater.Itwasmysixteenthbirthdayandwhenheshowedup,itbecametheabsolutebestdayofmylife.
Andthentheabsoluteworst.
Ithadbeenexactlyforty-twodayssinceAtlasleftforBoston.Icountedeverydaylikeitwouldhelpsomehow.Iwassodepressed,Ellen.Istillam.Peoplesaythatteenagersdon’t
knowhowtolovelikeanadult.Partofmebelievesthat,butI’mnotanadultandsoIhavenothingtocompareitto.ButIdobelieveit’sprobablydifferent.I’msure
there’smoresubstanceinthelovebetweentwoadultsthanthereisbetweentwoteenagers.There’sprobablymorematurity,morerespect,moreresponsibility.Butnomatterhowdifferent
thesubstanceofalovemightbeatdifferentagesinaperson’slife,Iknowthatlovestillhastoweighthesame.Youfeelthatweightonyourshouldersandinyourstomachandonyour
heartnomatterhowoldyouare.AndmyfeelingsforAtlasareveryheavy.EverynightIcrymyselftosleepandIwhisper,“Justkeepswimming.”Butitgetsreallyhardtoswimwhen
youfeellikeyou’reanchoredinthewater.
NowthatIthinkaboutit,I’veprobablybeenexperiencingthestagesofgriefinasense.Denial,anger,bargaining,depression,andacceptance.Iwasdeepinthedepressionstagethe
nightofmysixteenthbirthday.Mymotherhadtriedtomakethedayagoodone.Sheboughtmegardeningsupplies,mademyfavoritecake,andthetwoofuswenttodinnertogether.ButbythetimeI
hadcrawledintobedthatnight,Icouldn’tshakethesadness.
IwascryingwhenIheardthetaponmywindow.Atfirst,Ithoughtithadstartedraining.ButthenIheardhisvoice.Ijumpedupandrantothewindow,myheartinhysterics.Hewas
standingthereinthedark,smilingatme.IraisedthewindowandhelpedhiminsideandhetookmeinhisarmsandheldmethereforsolongwhileIcried.
Hesmelledsogood.IcouldtellwhenIhuggedhimthathe’dputonsomemuch-neededweightinjustthesixweekssinceI’dlastseenhim.Hepulledbackandwipedthetearsoff
mycheeks.“Whyareyoucrying,Lily?”
IwasembarrassedthatIwascrying.Icriedalotthatmonth—probablymorethananyothermonthofmylife.Itwasprobablyjustthehormonesofbeingateenagegirl,mixedwiththe
stressofhowmyfathertreatedmymother,andthenhavingtosaygoodbyetoAtlas.
Igrabbedashirtfromtheflooranddriedmyeyes,thenwesatdownonthebed.Hepulledmeagainsthischestandleanedagainstmyheadboard.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”Iaskedhim.
“It’syourbirthday,”hesaid.“Andyou’restillmyfavoriteperson.AndI’vemissedyou.”
Itwasprobablynolaterthanteno’clockwhenhegotthere,butwetalkedsomuch,IrememberitwasaftermidnightthenexttimeIlookedattheclock.Ican’tevenremember
whatallwetalkedabout,butIdorememberhowIfelt.HeseemedsohappyandtherewasalightinhiseyesthatI’dneverseentherebefore.Likehe’dfinallyfoundhishome.
Hesaidhewantedtotellmesomethingandhisvoicegrewserious.HereadjustedmesothatIwasstraddlinghislap,becausehewantedmetolookhimintheeyeswhenhetoldme.Iwas
thinkingmaybehewasabouttotellmehehadagirlfriendorthathewasleavingevensoonerforthemilitary.Butwhathesaidnextshockedme.
Hesaidthefirstnighthewenttothatoldhouse,hewasn’ttherebecauseheneededaplacetostay.
Hewenttheretokillhimself.
MyhandswentuptomymouthbecauseIhadnoideathingshadgottenthatbadforhim.Sobadthathedidn’tevenwanttoliveanymore.
“Ihopeyouneverknowwhatit’sliketofeelthatlonely,Lily,”hesaid.
Hewentontotellmethatthefirstnighthewasatthathouse,hewassittinginthelivingroomfloorwitharazorbladetohiswrist.Rightwhenhewasabouttouseit,mybedroomlight
wenton.“Youwerestandingtherelikeanangel,backlitbythelightofheaven,”hesaid.“Icouldn’ttakemyeyesoffyou.”
Hewatchedmewalkaroundmybedroomforawhile.Watchedmelieonthebedandwriteinmyjournal.Andheputdowntherazorbladebecausehesaidit’dbeenamonthsincelifehad
givenhimanysortoffeelingatall,andlookingatmegavehimalittlebitoffeeling.Enoughtonotbenumbenoughtoendthingsthatnight.
ThenadayortwolateriswhenItookhimthefoodandsetitonhisbackporch.Iguessyoualreadyknowtherestofthatstory.
“Yousavedmylife,Lily,”hesaidtome.“Andyouweren’teventrying.”
Heleanedforwardandkissedthatspotbetweenmyshoulderandmyneckthathealwayskisses.Ilikedthathediditagain.Idon’tlikemuchaboutmybody,butthatspotonmy
collarbonehasbecomemyfavoritepartofme.
Hetookmyhandsinhisandtoldmehewasleavingsoonerthanheplannedforthemilitary,butthathecouldn’tleavewithouttellingmethankyou.Hetoldmehe’dbegonefor
fouryearsandthatthelastthinghewantedformewastobeasixteen-year-oldgirlnotlivingmylifebecauseofaboyfriendInevergottoseeorhearfrom.
Thenextthinghesaidmadehisblueeyestearupuntiltheylookedclear.Hesaid,“Lily.Lifeisafunnything.Weonlygetsomanyyearstoliveit,sowehavetodoeverythingwe
cantomakesurethoseyearsareasfullastheycanbe.Weshouldn’twastetimeonthingsthatmighthappensomeday,ormaybeevennever.”
Iknewwhathewassaying.Thathewasleavingforthemilitaryandhedidn’twantmetoholdontohimwhilehewasgone.Hewasn’treallybreakingupwithmebecausewe
weren’teverreallytogether.We’djustbeentwopeoplewhohelpedeachotherwhenweneededitandgotourheartsfusedtogetheralongtheway.
Itwashard,beingletgobysomeonewhohadneverreallygrabbedholdofmecompletelyinthefirstplace.Inallthetimewe’vespenttogether,Ithinkwebothsortofknewthis
wasn’taforeverthing.I’mnotsurewhy,becauseIcouldeasilylovehimthatway.Ithinkmaybeundernormalcircumstances,ifweweretogetherliketypicalteenagersandhehadan
averagelifewithahome,wecouldbethatkindofcouple.Thekindwhocomestogethersoeasilyandneverexperiencesalifewherecrueltysometimesintercepts.
Ididn’teventrytogethimtochangehismindthatnight.Ifeellikewehavethekindofconnectionthateventhefiresofhellcouldn’tsever.Ifeellikehecouldgospend
histimeinthemilitaryandI’llspendmyyearsbeingateenagerandthenitwillallfallbackintoplacewhenthetimingisright.
“I’mgoingtomakeapromisetoyou,”hesaid.“Whenmylifeisgoodenoughforyoutobeapartofit,I’llcomefindyou.ButIdon’twantyoutowait
aroundforme,becausethatmightneverhappen.”
Ididn’tlikethatpromise,becauseitmeantoneoftwothings.Eitherhethoughthemightnevermakeitoutofthemilitaryalive,orhedidn’tthinkhislifewouldeverbegood
enoughforme.
Hislifewasalreadygoodenoughforme,butInoddedmyheadandforcedasmile.“Ifyoudon’tcomebackforme,I’llcomeforyou.Anditwon’tbepretty,Atlas
Corrigan.”
Helaughedatmythreat.“Well,itwon’tbetoohardtofindme.YouknowexactlywhereI’llbe.”
Ismiled.“Whereeverythingisbetter.”
Hesmiledback.“InBoston.”
Andthenhekissedme.
Ellen,Iknowyou’reanadultandknowallaboutwhatcomesnext,butIstilldon’tfeelcomfortabletellingyouwhathappenedoverthosenextcoupleofhours.Let’sjust
saywebothkissedalot.Webothlaughedalot.Webothlovedalot.Webothbreathedalot.Alot.Andwebothhadtocoverourmouthsandbeasquietandstillaswecouldsowewouldn’t
getcaught.
Whenwewerefinished,heheldmeagainsthim,skintoskin,handtoheart.Hekissedmeandlookedstraightinmyeyes.
“Iloveyou,Lily.Everythingyouare.Iloveyou.”
Iknowthosewordsgetthrownaroundalot,especiallybyteenagers.Alotoftimesprematurelyandwithoutmuchmerit.Butwhenhesaidthemtome,Iknewhewasn’tsayingitlikehe
wasinlovewithme.Itwasn’tthatkindof“Iloveyou.”
Imagineallthepeopleyoumeetinyourlife.Therearesomany.Theycomeinlikewaves,tricklinginandoutwiththetide.Somewavesaremuchbiggerandmakemoreofanimpactthan
others.Sometimesthewavesbringwiththemthingsfromdeepinthebottomoftheseaandtheyleavethosethingstossedontotheshore.Imprintsagainstthegrainsofsandthatprovethewaveshad
oncebeenthere,longafterthetiderecedes.
ThatwaswhatAtlaswastellingmewhenhesaid“Iloveyou.”HewaslettingmeknowthatIwasthebiggestwavehe’devercomeacross.AndIbroughtsomuchwithmethatmy
impressionswouldalwaysbethere,evenwhenthetiderolledout.
Afterhesaidhelovedme,hetoldmehehadabirthdaypresentforme.Hepulledoutasmallbrownbag.“Itisn’tmuch,butit’sallIcouldafford.”
IopenedthebagandpulledoutthebestpresentI’deverreceived.Itwasamagnetthatsaid“Boston”onthetop.Atthebottomintinyletters,itsaid“Where
everythingisbetter.”ItoldhimIwouldkeepitforever,andeverytimeIlookatitI’llthinkofhim.
WhenIstartedoutthisletter,Isaidmysixteenthbirthdaywasoneofthebestdaysofmylife.Becauseupuntilthatsecond,itwas.
Itwasthenextfewminutesthatweren’t.
BeforeAtlashadshownupthatnight,Iwasn’texpectinghim,soIdidn’tthinktolockmybedroomdoor.Myfatherheardmeintheretalkingtosomeone,andwhenhethrewopenmy
doorandsawAtlasinbedwithme,hewasangrierthanI’deverseenhim.AndAtlaswasatadisadvantagebynotbeingpreparedforwhatcamenext.
I’llneverforgetthatmomentforaslongasIlive.Beingcompletelyhelplessasmyfathercamedownonhimwithabaseballbat.Thesoundofbonessnappingwastheonlythingpiercing
throughmyscreams.
Istilldon’tknowwhocalledthepolice.I’msureitwasmymother,butit’sbeensixmonthsandwestillhaven’ttalkedaboutthatnight.Bythetimethepolicegot
tomybedroomandpulledmyfatheroffofhim,Ididn’tevenrecognizeAtlas,hewascoveredinsomuchblood.
Iwashysterical.
Hysterical.
NotonlydidtheyhavetotakeAtlasawayinanambulance,theyalsohadtocallanambulanceformebecauseIcouldn’tbreathe.ItwasthefirstandonlypanicattackI’veever
had.
Noonewouldtellmewherehewasorifhewasevenokay.Myfatherwasn’tevenarrestedforwhathe’ddone.WordgotoutthatAtlashadbeenstayinginthatoldhouseandthathe
hadbeenhomeless.Myfatherbecamereveredforhisheroicact—savinghislittlegirlfromthehomelessboywhomanipulatedherintohavingsexwithhim.
MyfathersaidI’dshamedourwholefamilybygivingthetownsomethingtogossipabout.Andletmetellyou,theystillgossipaboutit.IheardKatieonthebustodaytellingsomeone
shetriedtowarnmeaboutAtlas.Shesaidsheknewhewasbadnewsfromthemomentshelaideyesonhim.Whichiscrap.IfAtlashadbeenonthebuswithme,Iprobablywouldhavekeptmymouth
shutandbeenmatureaboutitlikehetriedtoteachmetobe.Instead,Iwassoangry,IturnedaroundandtoldKatieshecouldgotohell.ItoldherAtlaswasabetterhumanthanshe’d
everbeandifIeverheardhersayonemorebadthingabouthim,she’dregretit.
Shejustrolledhereyesandsaid,“Jesus,Lily.Didhebrainwashyou?Hewasadirty,thievinghomelesskidwhowasprobablyondrugs.Heusedyouforfoodandsexandnowyou’re
defendinghim?”
She’sluckythebusstoppedatmyhouserightthen.Igrabbedmybackpackandwalkedoffthebus,thenwentinsideandcriedinmyroomforthreehoursstraight.Nowmyheadhurts,but
IknewtheonlythingthatwouldmakemefeelbetterisifIfinallygotitalloutonpaper.I’vebeenavoidingwritingthisletterforsixmonthsnow.
Nooffense,Ellen,butmyheadstillhurts.Sodoesmyheart.Maybeevenmorerightnowthanitdidyesterday.Thisletterdidn’thelponedamnbit.
IthinkI’mgoingtotakeabreakfromwritingtoyouforawhile.Writingtoyouremindsmeofhim,anditallhurtstoomuch.Untilhecomesbackforme,I’mjustgoingtokeep
pretendingtobeokay.I’llkeeppretendingtoswim,whenreallyallI’mdoingisfloating.Barelykeepingmyheadabovewater.
—Lily
Ifliptothenextpage,butit’sblank.ThatwasthelasttimeIeverwrotetoEllen.
IalsoneverheardfromAtlasagain,andahugepartofmeneverblamedhim.Healmostdiedatthehandsofmyfather.There’snotmuchroomforforgivenessthere.
Iknewhesurvivedandthathewasokay,becausemycuriosityhassometimesgottenthebestofmeovertheyearsandI’dfindwhatIcouldabouthimonline.Therewasn’tmuch,
though.Enoughtoletmeknowhe’dsurvivedandthathewasinthemilitary.
Istillnevergothimoutofmyhead,though.Timemadethingsbetter,butsometimesIwouldseesomethingthatwouldremindmeofhimanditwouldputmeinafunk.Itwasn’tuntilIwas
incollegeforacoupleofyearsanddatingsomeoneelsethatIrealizedmaybeAtlaswasn’tsupposedtobemywholelife.Maybehewasonlysupposedtobeapartofit.
Maybeloveisn’tsomethingthatcomesfullcircle.Itjustebbsandflows,inandout,justlikethepeopleinourlives.
Onaparticularlylonelynightincollege,Iwentalonetoatattoostudioandhadaheartputinthespotwhereheusedtokissme.It’satinyheart,aboutthesizeofathumbprint,and
itlooksjustlikethehearthecarvedformeoutoftheoaktree.It’snotfullyclosedatthetopandIwonderifAtlascarvedtheheartlikethatonpurpose.Becausethat’showmy
heartfeelseverytimeIthinkabouthim.Itjustfeelslikethere’salittleholeinit,lettingoutalltheair.
AftercollegeIendedupmovingtoBoston,notnecessarilybecauseIwashopingtofindhim,butbecauseIhadtoseeformyselfifBostonreallywasbetter.Plethoraheldnothingformeanyway,
andIwantedtogetasfarawayfrommyfatherasIcould.Eventhoughhewassickandcouldnolongerhurtmymother,hestillsomehowmademewanttoescapetheentirestateofMaine,so
that’sexactlywhatIdid.
SeeingAtlasinhisrestaurantforthefirsttimefilledmewithsomanyemotions,Ididn’tknowhowtoprocessthem.Iwasgladtoseethathewasokay.Iwashappythathelooked
healthy.ButIwouldbelyingifIsaidIwasn’talittlebitheartbrokenthathenevertriedtofindmelikehepromised.
Ilovehim.IstilldoandIalwayswill.Hewasahugewavethatleftalotofimprintsonmylife,andI’llfeeltheweightofthatloveuntilIdie.I’veacceptedthat.
Butthingsaredifferentnow.Aftertodaywhenhewalkedoutofmyoffice,Ithoughtlongandhardaboutus.Ithinkourlivesarewherethey’resupposedtobe.IhaveRyle.Atlashashis
girlfriend.Webothhavethecareerswe’dalwayshopedfor.Justbecausewedidn’tenduponthesamewave,doesn’tmeanwearen’tstillapartofthesameocean.
ThingswithRylearestillfairlynew,butIfeelthatsamedepthwithhimthatIusedtofeelwithAtlas.HelovesmejustlikeAtlasdid.AndIknowifAtlashadachancetogettoknowhim,
hewouldbeabletoseethatandhe’dbehappyforme.
Sometimesanunexpectedwavecomesalong,sucksyouupandrefusestospityoubackout.Ryleismyunexpectedtidalwave,andrightnowI’mskimmingthebeautifulsurface.PartTwoChapterEighteen
“Oh,God.IthinkImightthrowup.”
Ryleputshisthumbundermychinandtiltsmyfaceuptohis.Hegrinsatme.“You’llbefine.Stopfreakingout.”
Ishakemyhandsoutandbounceupanddowninsidetheelevator.“Ican’thelpit,”Isay.“EverythingyouandAllysahavetoldmeaboutyourmothermakesmeso
nervous.”MyeyeswidenandIbringmyhandsuptomymouth.“Oh,God,Ryle.WhatifsheasksmequestionsaboutJesus?Idon’tgotochurch.Imean,IreadtheBiblewhen
Iwasyounger,butIdon’tknowanswerstoanyBibletriviaquestions.”
He’sreallylaughingnow.Hepullsmetohimandkissesthesideofmyhead.“Shewon’ttalkaboutJesus.Shealreadylovesyou,basedonwhatI’vetoldher.Allyouhave
todoisbeyou,Lily.”
Istartnodding.“Beme.Okay.IthinkIcanpretendtobemeforoneevening.Right?”
Thedoorsopenandhewalksmeoutoftheelevator,towardAllysa’sapartment.It’sfunnywatchinghimknock,butIguesshetechnicallydoesn’tlivehereanymore.Overthe
lastfewmonths,hejustsortofslowlybeganstayingwithme.Allofhisclothesareatmyapartment.Histoiletries.Lastweekheevenhungthatridiculousblurryphotographofmeupinour
bedroom,anditreallyfeltofficialafterthat.
“Doessheknowwelivetogether?”Iaskhim.“Issheokaywiththat?Imean,wearen’tmarried.ShegoestochurcheverySunday.Oh,no,Ryle!Whatifyourmotherthinks
I’mablasphemouswhore?”
RylenudgeshisheadtowardtheapartmentdoorandIspinaroundtoseehismotherstandinginthedoorway,alayerofshockonherface.
“Mother,”Rylesays.“MeetLily.Myblasphemouswhore.”
OhdearGod.
Hismotherreachesformeandpullsmeinforahug,andherlaughteriseverythingIneedtogetmethroughthismoment.“Lily!”shesays,pushingmeouttoarm’slengthso
shecangetagoodlookatme.“Sweetie,Idon’tthinkyou’reablasphemouswhore.You’retheangelI’vebeenprayingwouldlandinRyle’slapforthelastten
years!”
Sheushersusintotheapartment.Ryle’sfatheristhenexttogreetmewithahug.“No,definitelynotablasphemouswhore,”hesays.“NotlikeMarshallhere,whosank
histeethintomylittlegirlwhenshewasonlyseventeen.”HeglaresbackatMarshall,whoissittingonthecouch.
Marshalllaughs.“That’swhereyou’rewrong,Dr.Kincaid,becauseAllysawastheonewhosankherteethintomefirst.MyteethwereinanothergirlwhotastedlikeCheetos
and…”
MarshalldoublesoverwhenAllysaelbowshimintheside.
Andjustlikethat,everysinglefearIhadhasvanished.They’reperfect.They’renormal.TheysaywhoreandlaughatMarshall’sjokes.
Icouldn’taskforanythingbetter.
Threehourslater,I’mlyingonAllysa’sbedwithher.Theirparentswenttobedearly,claimingjetlag.RyleandMarshallareinthelivingroom,watchingsports.Ihavemyhandon
Allysa’sstomach,waitingtofeelthebabykick.
“Herfeetarerighthere,”shesays,movingmyhandoverafewinches.“Giveitafewseconds.She’sreallyactivetonight.”
Weremainquietwhilewebothwaitforhertokick.Whenithappens,Isquealwithlaughter.“OhmyGod!It’slikeanalien!”
Allysaholdsherhandsonherstomach,smiling.“Theselasttwoandahalfmonthsaregoingtobehell,”shesays.“I’msoreadytomeether.”
“Metoo.Ican’twaittobeanaunt.”
“Ican’twaitforyouandRyletohaveababy,”shesays.
Ifallontomybackandputmyhandsbehindmybed.“Idon’tknowifhewantsany.We’veneverreallytalkedaboutit.”
“Itdoesn’tmatterifhedoesn’twantany,”shesays.“Hewill.Hedidn’twantarelationshipbeforeyou.Hedidn’twanttogetmarriedbeforeyou,and
Ifeelaproposalcomingonanymonthnow.”
Ipropmyheaduponmyhandandfaceher.“We’vebarelybeentogethersixmonths.Prettysurehewantstowaitalotlongerthanthat.”
Idon’tpushthingswithRylewhenitcomestospeedingthingsupinourrelationship.Ourlivesareperfecthowtheyare.We’retoobusyforaweddinganyway,soIdon’tmind
ifhewantstowaitalotlonger.
“Whataboutyou?”Allysapresses.“Wouldyousayyesifheproposed?”
Ilaugh.“Areyoukiddingme?Ofcourse.I’dmarryhimtonight.”
Allysalooksovermyshoulderatherbedroomdoor.Shepursesherlipstogetherandtriestohidehersmile.
“He’sstandinginthedoorway,isn’the?”
Shenods.
“Heheardmesaythat,didn’the?”
Shenodsagain.
IrollontomybackandlookatRyle,proppedupagainstthedoorframewithhisarmsfoldedoverhischest.Ican’ttellwhathe’sthinkingafterhearingthat.Hisexpressionis
tight.Hisjawistight.Hiseyesarenarrowedinmydirection.
“Lily,”hesayswithstoiccomposure.“Iwouldmarrythehelloutofyou.”
Hiswordsmakemesmilethemostembarrassing,widestsmile,soIpullapillowovermyface.“Why,thankyou,Ryle,”Isay,mywordsmuffledbythepillow.
“That’sreallysweet,”IhearAllysasay.“Mybrotherisactuallysweet.”
ThepillowispulledawayfrommeandRyleisstandingoverme,holdingitathisside.“Let’sgo.”
Myheartbeginstobeatfaster.“Rightnow?”
Henods.“Itooktheweekendoffbecausemyparentsareintown.Youhavepeoplewhocanrunyourstoreforyou.Let’sgotoVegasandgetmarried.”
Allysasitsuponthebed.“Youcan’tdothat,”shesays.“Lily’sagirl.Shewantsarealweddingwithflowersandbridesmaidsandshit.”
Rylelooksbackatme.“Doyouwantarealweddingwithflowersandbridesmaidsandshit?”
Ithinkaboutitforasecond.
“No.”
Thethreeofusarequietforamoment,andthenAllysastartskickingherlegsupanddownonthebed,giddywithexcitement.“They’regettingmarried!”sheyells.Sherolls
offthebedandrushestowardthelivingroom.“Marshall,packourbags!We’regoingtoVegas!”
Rylereachesdownandgrabsmyhand,pullingmetoastand.He’ssmiling,butthere’snowayI’mdoingthisunlessIknowforsurehewantsit.
“Areyousureaboutthis,Ryle?”
Herunshishandsthroughmyhairandpullsmyfacetohis,brushinghislipsagainstmine.“Nakedtruth,”hewhispers.“I’msoexcitedtobeyourhusband,Icouldpiss
mydamnpants.”ChapterNineteen
“It’sbeensixweeksMom,yougottagetoverit.”
Mymothersighsintothephone.“You’remyonlydaughter.Ican’thelpitifI’vebeendreamingaboutyourweddingyourwholelife.”
Shestillhasn’tforgivenme,eventhoughshewasthere.WecalledherrightbeforeAllysabookedourflights.Weforcedheroutofbed,weforcedRyle’sparentsoutofbed,andthen
weforcedthemallonamidnightflighttoVegas.Shedidn’ttrytotalkmeoutofitbecauseI’msureshecouldtellthatRyleandIhadmadeupourmindsbythetimeshemadeitto
theairport.Butshehasn’tletmeforgetit.She’sbeendreamingofahugeweddinganddressshoppingandcaketastingsincethedayIwasborn.
Ikickmyfeetuponthecouch.“HowaboutImakeituptoyou?”Isaytoher.“Whatif,wheneverwedecidetohaveababy,Ipromisetodoitthenaturalwayandnotbuyone
inVegas?”
Mymomlaughs.Thenshesighs.“Aslongasyougivemegrandchildrensomeday,IguessIcangetoverit.”
RyleandItalkedaboutkidsontheflighttoVegas.IwantedtomakesurethatpossibilitywasopenfordiscussioninourfuturebeforeImadeacommitmenttospendtherestofmylifewith
him.Hesaiditwasdefinitelyopenfordiscussion.Thenweclearedtheairaboutalotofotherthingsthatmightcauseproblemsdowntheroad.ItoldhimIwantedseparatecheckingaccounts,but
sincehemakesmoremoneythanme,hehastobuymelotsofpresentsallthetimetokeepmehappy.Heagreed.HemademepromisehimI’dneverbecomevegan.Thatwasasimplepromise.Ilove
cheesetoomuch.Itoldhimwehadtostartsomekindofcharity,oratleastdonatetotheonesMarshallandAllysalike.Hesaidhealreadydoes,andthatmademewanttomarryhimevensooner.
Hemademepromisetovote.HesaidIwasallowedtovoteDemocratic,Republican,orIndependent,aslongasImadesuretovote.Weshookonit.
BythetimewelandedinVegas,wewerecompletelyonthesamepage.
IhearthefrontdoorunlockingsoIflipontomyback.“Gottago,”Isaytomymother.“Rylejustgothome.”HeclosesthedoorbehindhimandthenIgrinandsay,
“Wait.Letmerephrasethat,Mom.Myhusbandjustgothome.”
Mymotherlaughsandtellsmegoodbye.Ihangupwithherandtossmyphoneaside.Ibringmyarmupabovemyheadandrestitlazilyagainstthearmofthecouch.ThenIpropmylegoverthe
backofit,lettingmyskirtslidedownmythighsandpoolatmywaist.Ryledragshiseyesupmybody,grinningashemakeshiswayovertome.Hedropstohiskneesonthecouchandslowlycrawls
upmybody.
“How’smywife?”hewhispers,plantingkissesallaroundmymouth.HepresseshimselfbetweenmylegsandIletmyheadfallbackashekissesdownmyneck.
Thisisthelife.
Webothworkalmosteveryday.HeworkstwiceasmanyhoursasIdoandheonlygetshomebeforeI’minbedtwoorthreenightsaweek.Butthenightsweactuallydogettospendtogether,
Itendtowanthimtospendthosenightsburieddeepinsideme.
Hedoesn’tcomplain.
Hefindsaspotonmyneckandheclaimsit,kissingitsohardithurts.“Ouch.”
Helowershimselfontopofmeandmuttersintomyneck.“I’mgivingyouahickey.Don’tmove.”
Ilaugh,butIlethim.MyhairislongenoughthatIcancoverit,andI’veneverhadahickeybefore.
Hislipsremaininthesamespot,suckingandkissinguntilIcannolongerfeelthesting.He’spressedagainstme,bulgingagainsthisscrubs.Imovemyhandsandshovehisscrubsdown
farenoughsothathecanslideinsideofme.Hecontinueskissingmyneckashetakesmerightthereonthecouch.
???
Hetookashowerfirst,andassoonashegotout,Ijumpedin.ItoldhimweneededtowashthesmellofsexoffofusbeforewehaddinnerwithAllysaandMarshall.
Allysaisdueinafewweeks,soshe’sforcingasmuchcoupletimeonusasshecan.She’sworriedwe’llstopcomingtovisitafterthebabyisborn,whichIknowis
ridiculous.Thevisitswilljustgrowmorefrequent.Ialreadylovemyniecemorethananyofthem,anyway.
Okay,maybenot.Butit’sclose.
ItrytoavoidgettingmyhairwetasIrinseoff,becausewe’realreadyrunninglate.IgrabmyrazorandpressitundermyarmwhenIhearacrash.Ipause.
“Ryle?”
Nothing.
Ifinishshavingandthenwashthesoapoff.Anothercrash.
Whatintheworldishedoing?
Iturnoffthewaterandgrabatowel,runningitovermyself.“Ryle!”
Hestilldoesn’trespond.IpullmyjeansoninahurryandopenthedoorasI’mpullingmyshirtovermyhead.“Ryle?”
Thenightstandbyourbedistippedover.Imovetothelivingroomandseehimsittingontheedgeofthecouch,hisheadinoneofhishands.He’slookingdownatsomethinginhisother
hand.
“Whatareyoudoing?”
HelooksupatmeandIdon’trecognizehisexpression.I’mconfusedbywhat’shappening.Idon’tknowifhejustgotbadnewsor…Oh,God.
Allysa.
“Ryle,you’rescaringme.What’swrong?”
HeholdsupmyphoneandjustlooksatmelikeIshouldknowwhat’shappening.WhenIshakemyheadinconfusion,heholdsupapieceofpaper.“Funnything,”hesays,setting
myphoneonthecoffeetableinfrontofhim.“Idroppedyourphonebyaccident.Coverpopsoff.Ifindthisnumberhiddeninthebackofit.”
Oh,God.
No,no,no.
Hecrumblesthenumberinhisfist.“Ithought,‘Huh.That’sweird.Lilydoesn’thidethingsfromme.’?”Hestandsupandpicksupmyphone.
“SoIcalledit.”Hetightenshisfistaroundthephone.“He’sluckyIgothisfuckingvoicemail.”Hechunksmyphoneclearacrosstheroomanditcrashesagainstthe
wall,shatteringtothefloor.
There’sathree-secondpausewhereIthinkthiscouldgooneoftwoways.
He’sgoingtoleaveme.
Orhe’sgoingtohurtme.
Herunsahandthroughhishairandwalksstraightforthedoor.
Heleaves
“Ryle!”Iyell.
WhydidIneverthrowthatnumberaway?!
Iopenthedoorandrunafterhim.He’stakingthestairstwoatatime,andIfinallyreachhimwhenhe’satthelandingofthesecondfloor.Ishovemyselfinfrontofhimandgrab
hisshirtinmyfists.“Ryle,please.Letmeexplain.”
Hegrabsmywristsandpushesmeawayfromhim.
???
“Bestill.”
Ifeelhishandsonme.Gentle.Steady.
Tearsareflowingandforsomereason,theysting.
“Lily,bestill.Please.”
Hisvoiceissoothing.Myheadhurts.“Ryle?”Itrytoopenmyeyes,butthelightistoobright.IcanfeelastingatthecornerofmyeyeandIwince.Itrytositup,butIfeel
hishandpressdownonmyshoulder.
“YouhavetobestilluntilI’mfinished,Lily.”
Iopenmyeyesagainandlookupattheceiling.It’sourbedroomceiling.“Finishedwithwhat?”MymouthhurtswhenIspeak,soIbringmyhandupandcoverit.
“Youfelldownthestairs,”hesays.“You’rehurt.”
Myeyesmeethis.There’sconcerninthem,butalsohurt.Anger.He’sfeelingeverythingrightnow,andtheonlythingIfeelisconfused.
Iclosemyeyesagainandtrytorememberwhyhe’sangry.Whyhe’shurt.
Myphone.
Atlas’snumber.
Thestairwell.
Igrabbedhisshirt.
Hepushedmeaway.
“Youfelldownthestairs.”
ButIdidn’tfall.
Hepushedme.Again.
That’stwice.
Youpushedme,Ryle.
Icanfeelmywholebodystarttoshakewiththesobs.IhavenoideahowbadI’mhurt,butIdon’tevencare.Nophysicalpaincouldevencomparetowhatmyheartisfeelinginthis
moment.Istarttoslapathishands,wantinghimawayfromme.IfeelhimliftoffthebedasIcurlupintoaball.
Iwaitforhimtotryandsootheitoutlikehedidthelasttimehehurtme,butitnevercomes.Ihearhimwalkingaroundourbedroom.Idon’tknowwhathe’sdoing.I’mstill
cryingwhenhekneelsdowninfrontofme.
“Youmighthaveaconcussion,”hesays,matter-of-fact.“Youhaveasmallcutonyourlip.Ijustbandagedupthecutonyoureye.Youdon’tneedstitches.”
Hisvoiceiscold.
“Doesithurtanywhereelse?Yourarms?Legs?”
Hesoundsjustlikeadoctorandnothinglikeahusband.
“Youpushedme,”Isaythroughtears.It’sallIcanthinkorsayorsee
“Youfell,”hesayscalmly.“Aboutfiveminutesago.RightafterIfoundoutwhatafuckingliarImarried.”Heplacessomethingonmypillownexttome.“Ifyou
needanything,I’msureyoucancallthisnumber.”
IlookatthecrumpleduppieceofpaperbymyheadthatholdsAtlas’sphonenumber.
“Ryle,”Isob.
Whatishappening?
Ihearthefrontdoorslam.
Mywholeworldcomescrashingdownaroundme.
“Ryle,”Iwhispertonoone.IcovermyfacewithmyhandsandIcryharderthanI’veevercried.Iamdestroyed.
Fiveminutes.
That’sallittakestocompletelydestroyaperson.
???
Afewminutespass.
Ten,maybe?
Ican’tstopcrying.Istillhaven’tmovedfromthebed.I’mscaredtolookinthemirror.I’mjust…scared.
Ihearthefrontdooropenandslamshutagain.RyleappearsinthedoorwayandIhavenoideaifI’msupposedtohatehim.
Orbeterrifiedofhim.
Orfeelbadforhim.
HowcanIbefeelingallthree?
HepresseshisforeheadtoourbedroomdoorandIwatchashehitshisheadagainstit.Once.Twice.Threetimes.
Heturnsandrushesatme,fallingtohiskneesatthesideofthebed.Hegrabsbothofmyhandsandhesqueezesthem.“Lily,”hesays,hiswholefacetwistinginpain.
“Pleasetellmeit’snothing.”HebringshishandtothesideofmyheadandIcanfeelhishandsshaking.“Ican’ttakethis,Ican’t.”Heleans
forwardandpresseshislipshardagainstmyforehead,thenrestshisforeheadagainstmine.“Pleasetellmeyouaren’tseeinghim.Please.”
I’mnotevensureIcantellhimthatbecauseIdon’tevenwanttospeak.
Hestayspressedagainstme,hishandwrappedtightlyinmyhair.“Ithurtssomuch,Lily.Iloveyousomuch.”
Ishakemyhead,wantingthetruthoutofmesohe’llseewhatahugemistakehejustmade.“Iforgothisnumberwaseventhere,”Isayquietly.“Thedayafterthefight
intherestaurant…hecametothestore.YoucanaskAllysa.Hewasonlythereforfiveminutes.Hetookmyphonefrommeandheputhisnumberinsideofit,becausehe
didn’tbelieveIwassafewithyou.Iforgotitwasthere,Ryle.I’veneverevenlookedatit.”
Hebreathesoutashakybreathandbeginsnoddingwithrelief.“Youswear,Lily?Youswearonourmarriageandourlivesandoneverythingthatyouarethatyouhaven’tspokentohim
sincethatday?”Hepullsbacksohecanlookmeintheeyes.
“Iswear,Ryle.Youoverreactedbeforegivingmethechancetoexplain,”Isaytohim.“Nowgetthefuckoutofmyapartment.”
Mywordsknockthebreathfromhim.Iseeithappen.Hisbackmeetsthewallbehindhimandhestaresatmesilently.Inshock.“Lily,”hewhispers.“Youfelldownthe
stairs.”
Ican’ttellifhe’stryingtoconvincemeorhimself.
Icalmlyrepeatmyself.“Getoutofmyapartment.”
Heremainsfrozeninplace.Isituponthebed.Myhandimmediatelygoestothethrobbinginmyeye.Hepusheshimselfupoffthefloor.Whenhetakesastepforward,Iscootbackonthe
bed
“You’rehurt,Lily.I’mnotleavingyoualone.”
Igraboneofmypillowsandthrowitathim,likeitcouldactuallydodamage.“Getout!”Iyell.Hecatchesthepillow.Igrabtheotheroneandstanduponthebedandstart
swingingitathimasIscream,“Getout!Getout!Getout!”
Itossthepillowonthefloorafterthefrontdoorslamsshut.
Iruntothelivingroomanddead-boltthedoor.
Irunbacktomybedroomandfallontomybed.ThesamebedIsharewithmyhusband.Thesamebedhemakeslovetomeon.
Thesamebedhelaysmeonwhenit’stimeforhimtocleanuphismesses.ChapterTwenty
ItriedsalvagingmyphonebeforeIfellasleeplastnight,butitwasnouse.Itwasintwocompletelyseparatepieces.IsetmyalarmsoIcouldgetupearlyandstopandget
anewoneonmywayintoworktoday.
Myfacedoesn’tlookasbadasIfeareditwould.Ofcourse,it’snotsomethingIcouldhidefromAllysa,butI’mnotevengoingtotryanddothat.Ipartmyhairtotheside
tocoverupmostofthebandageRylehadplacedovermyeye.Theonlythingvisiblefromlastnightisthecutonmylip.
Andthehickeyhegavemeonmyneck
Fuckingironyatitsbest.
Igrabmypurseandopenthefrontdoor.IstopshortwhenIseethelumpatmyfeet.
Itmoves.
It’sseveralsecondsbeforeIrealizethatlumpisactuallyRyle.Hesleptouthere?
HepullshimselftohisfeetassoonasherealizesI’veopenedthedoor.He’sinfrontofme,pleadingeyes,gentlehandsonmycheeks.Lipsonmymouth.“I’msorry,
I’msorry,I’msorry.”
Ipullbackandscrollmyeyesoverhim.Hesleptouthere?
Istepoutofmyapartmentandpullmydoorshut.Icalmlywalkpasthimanddownthestairs.Hefollowsmetheentirewaytomycar,beggingmetotalktohim.
Idon’t.
Ileave.
???
It’sanhourlaterwhenIhaveanewphoneinmyhands.I’msittinginmycaratthecellphonestorewhenIturniton.Iwatchthescreenasseventeenmessages
appear.AllfromAllysa.
IguessitwouldmakesensethatRyledidn’tcallmeallnight,sinceheknewwhatkindofshapemyphonewasin.
Istarttoopenatextmessagewhenmyphonebeginsringing.It’sAllysa.
“Hello?”
Shesighsheavily,andthen,“Lily!Whatinthehellisgoingon?OhmyGod,youcan’tdothistome,I’mpregnant!”
IstartmycarandsetthephonetoBluetoothwhileIdrivetowardthestore.Allysaisofftoday.She’sonlygotafewdaysleftbeforeshegetsajumpstartonhermaternityleave.
“I’mokay,”Itellher.“Ryleisokay.Wegotintoafight.I’msorryIcouldn’tcallyou,hebrokemyphone.”
She’squietforamoment,andthen,“Hedid?Areyouokay?Whereareyou?”
“I’mfine.Headingtoworknow.”
“Good,I’malmosttheremyself.”
Istarttoprotest,butshehangsupbeforeIhavethechance.
BythetimeImakeittothestore,she’salreadythere.
Iopenthefrontdoor,readytofieldquestionsanddefendmyreasonsforkickingherbrotheroutofmyapartment.ButIstopshortwhenIseethetwoofthemstandingatthecounter.Ryleis
leaningagainstitandAllysahasherhandsontopofhis,sayingsomethingtohimthatIcan’thear.
Theybothturntofacemewhentheyhearthedoorclosebehindme.
“Ryle,”Allysawhispers.“Whatdidyoudotoher?”Shewalksaroundthecounterandpullsmeinforahug.“Oh,Lily,”shesays,runningherhanddown
myback.Shepullsbackwithtearsinhereyes,andherreactionconfusesme.SheobviouslyknowsRyleisresponsible,butifthat’sthecase,itseemsshewouldbeattackinghim,oratleast
yelling.
SheturnsbacktoRyleandhe’slookingupatmeapologetically.Longingly.Likehewantstoreachoutandhugme,buthe’sscaredtodeathtotouchme.Heshouldbe.
“Youneedtotellher,”AllysasaystoRyle.
Heinstantlydropshisheadinhishands.
“Tellher,”Allysasays,hervoiceangriernow.“Shehastherighttoknow,Ryle.She’syourwife.Ifyoudon’ttellher,Iwill.”
Ryle’sshouldersrollforwardandhisheadisfullypressedagainstthecounternow.WhateveritisAllysawantshimtotellmehashimsoagonized,hecan’tevenlookatme.I
clenchmystomach,feelingtheangstdeeperthanmysoul.
Allysaspinstowardmeandputsherhandsonmyshoulders.“Hearhimout,”shebegs.“I’mnotaskingyoutoforgivehim,becauseIhavenoideawhathappenedlastnight.
Butjustplease,asmysister-in-lawandmybestfriend,givemybrotherachancetotalktoyou.”
???
Allysasaidshe’dwatchthestoreforthenexthouruntilanotheremployeecomesinfortheirshift.IwasstillsoupsetwithRyle,Ididn’twanthiminthesame
carwithme.Hesaidhe’dsendforanUberandmeetmeatmyapartment.
MyentiredrivehomeIagonizedoverwhathecouldpossiblyneedtotellmethatAllysaalreadyknows.Somanythingswentthroughmyhead.Ishedying?Hashebeencheatingonme?Didhelose
hisjob?Shedidn’tseemtoknowthedetailsofwhathappenedbetweenuslastnight,soIhavenoideahowthisrelatestothat.
Rylefinallywalksthroughmyfrontdoortenminutesafterme.I’msittingonthecouch,nervouslypickingatmynails.
Istandupandstarttopaceasheslowlywalkstothechairandtakesaseat.Heleansforward,claspinghishandsinfrontofhim.
“Pleasesitdown,Lily.”
Hesaysitpleadingly,likehecan’ttakeseeingmeworry.Ireturntomyseatonthecouch,butIscoottothearm,pullmyfeetup,andbringmyhandstomymouth.“Areyou
dying?”
Hiseyesstretchwideandheimmediatelyshakeshishead.“No.No.It’snothinglikethat.”
“Thenwhatisit?”
Ijustwanthimtospititout.Myhandsarestartingtoshake.Heseeshowmuchhe’sfreakingmeout,soheleansforwardandpullsmyhandsfrommyface,holdingtheminhis.Partofme
doesn’twanthimtouchingmeafterwhathedidlastnight,butapieceofmeneedsthereassurancefromhim.TheanticipationofwhatI’mabouttofindoutismakingmenauseous.
“Nooneisdying.I’mnotcheatingonyou.WhatI’mabouttotellyouisn’tgoingtohurtyou,okay?It’sallinthepast.ButAllysathinksyouneedtoknow.
And…sodoI.”
Inodandhereleasesmyhands.He’stheoneupandpacingnow,backandforthbehindthecoffeetable.It’sasifhe’shavingtoworkupthecouragetofindhisownwordsand
that’smakingmeevenmorenervous.
Hesitsinthechairagain.“Lily?Doyourememberthenightwemet?”
Inod.
“YourememberwhenIwalkedoutontotheroof?HowangryIwas?”
Inodagain.Hewaskickingthechair.Itwasbeforeheknewmarine-gradepolymerwasvirtuallyindestructible.
“Doyouremembermynakedtruth?WhatItoldyouaboutthatnightandwhatcausedmetobesoangry?”
Ileanmyheaddownandthinkbacktothatnightandtoallthetruthshetoldme.Hesaidmarriagerepulsedhim.Hewasonlyintoone-nightstands.Heneverwantedtohavekids.Hewasmad
aboutapatienthe’dlostthatnight.
Istartnodding.“Thelittleboy,”Isaid.“That’swhyyouweremad,becausealittleboydiedanditupsetyou.”
Heblowsoutaquickbreathofrelief.“Yes.That’swhyIwasmad.”Hestandsupagainandit’slikeIseehisentiresoulcrumble.Hepresseshispalmsagainsthiseyes
andfightsbacktears.“WhenItoldyouaboutwhathappenedtohim,doyourememberwhatyousaidtome?”
IfeellikeI’mabouttocryandIdon’tevenknowwhyyet.“Yes.ItoldyouIcouldn’timaginewhatsomethinglikethatwilldotothatlittleboy’sbrother.The
onewhoaccidentallyshothim.”Mylipsstarttotremble.“Andthat’swhenyousaid,‘It’lldestroyhimforlife,that’swhatit’ll
do.’?”
Oh,God.
Whereishegoingwiththis?
Rylewalksoveranddropsdowntohiskneesinfrontofme.“Lily,”hesays.“Iknewitwoulddestroyhim.Iknewexactlywhatthatlittleboywas
feeling…becausethat’swhathappenedtome.ToAllysa’sandmyolderbrother…”
Ican’tholdinthetears.Ijuststartcryingandhewrapshisarmstightlyaroundmywaistandlayshisheadonmylap.“Ishothim,Lily.Mybestfriend.Mybigbrother.I
wasonlysixyearsold.Ididn’tevenknowIwasholdingarealgun.”
Hiswholebodybeginstoshakeandhegripsmeeventighter.Ipressakissintohishairbecauseitfeelslikehe’sonthevergeofabreakdown.Justlikethatnightontheroof.And
whileI’mstillsoangryathim,Ialsostilllovehimanditabsolutelykillsmetofindthisoutabouthim.AboutAllysa.Wesitquietlyforalongtime—hisheadonmylap,hisarms
aroundmywaist,mylipsinhishair.
“Shewasonlyfivewhenithappened.Emersonwasseven.Wewereinthegarage,sonooneheardourscreamsforalongtime.AndIjustsatthere,and…”
Hepullsawayfrommylapandstandsup,facingtheotherdirection.Afteralongstretchofsilencehesitsdownonthecouchandleansforward.“Iwastrying
to…”Ryle’sfacecontortsinpainandhelowershishead,coveringitwithhishands,shakingitbackandforth.“Iwastryingtoputeverythingbackinside
hishead.IthoughtIcouldfixhim,Lily.”
Myhandfliesuptomymouth.Igaspsoloudly,there’snowaytohideit.
IhavetostandupsoIcancatchabreath.
Itdoesn’thelp.
Istillcan’tbreathe.
Rylewalksovertome,takingmyhandsandpullingmetohim.Wehugeachotherforasolidminutewhenhesays,“IwouldnevertellyouthisbecauseIwantittoexcusemy
behavior.”Hepullsbackandlooksmefirmlyintheeyes.“Youhavetobelievethat.Allysawantedmetotellyouallofthisbecausesincethathappened,therearethingsIcan’t
control.Igetangry.Iblackout.I’vebeenintherapysinceIwassixyearsold.Butitisnotmyexcuse.Itismyreality.”
Hewipesawaymytears,cradlingmyheadagainsthisshoulder.
“Whenyouranaftermelastnight,IswearIhadnointentionofhurtingyou.Iwasupsetandangry.AndsometimeswhenIfeelthatmuchemotion,somethinginsideofmejustsnaps.I
don’trememberthemomentIpushedyou.ButIknowIdid.Idid.AllIwasthinkingwhenyouwererunningaftermewashowIneededtogetawayfromyou.Iwantedyououtofmyway.I
didn’tprocessthattherewerestairsaroundus.Ididn’tprocessmystrengthcomparedtoyours.Ifuckedup,Lily.Ifuckedup.”
Helowershismouthtomyear.Hisvoicecrackswhenhesays,“Youaremywife.I’msupposedtobetheonewhoprotectsyoufromthemonsters.I’mnotsupposedto
beone.”Heholdsmewithsomuchdesperation,hebeginstoshake.Ihavenever,inallmylife,feltsomuchpainradiatingfromonehuman.
Itbreaksme.Itripsmeapartfromtheinsideout.Allmyheartwantstodoiswraptightlyaroundhis.
Butevenwitheverythinghejusttoldme,I’mstillfightingmyownforgiveness.IsworeIwouldn’tletithappenagain.Isworetohimandtomyselfthatifheeverhurtmeagain,I
wouldleave.
Ipullawayfromhim,unabletolookhimintheeye.Iwalktowardmybedroomtotryandtakeamomenttojustcatchmybreath.Iclosemybathroomdoorbehindmeandgripthesink,butI
can’tevenstandup.Iendupslidingtothefloorinaheapoftears.
Thisisn’thowthiswassupposedtobe.Mywholelife,IknewexactlywhatI’ddoifamanevertreatedmethewaymyfathertreatedmymother.Itwassimple.Iwouldleaveandit
wouldneverhappenagain.
ButIdidn’tleave.Andnow,hereIamwithbruisesandcutsonmybodyatthehandsofthemanwhoissupposedtoloveme.Atthehandsofmyownhusband.
Andstill,I’mtryingtojustifywhathappened.
Itwasanaccident.HethoughtIwascheatingonhim.HewashurtandangryandIgotinhisway.
IbringmyhandstomyfaceandIsob,becauseIfeelmorepainforthatmanoutthere,knowingwhathewentthroughasachild,thanIfeelformyself.Andthatdoesn’tmakemefeel
selflessorstrong.Itmakesmefeelpatheticandweak.I’msupposedtohatehim.I’msupposedtobethewomanmymotherwasneverstrongenoughtobe.
ButifI’memulatingmymother’sbehavior,thenthatwouldmeanRyleisemulatingmyfather’sbehavior.Butheisn’t.Ihavetostopcomparingustothem.We’reour
ownindividualsinanentirelydifferentsituation.Myfatherneverhadanexcuseforhisanger,norwasheimmediatelyapologetic.Thewayhetreatedmymotherwasmuchworsethanwhat’s
happenedbetweenRyleandme.
Rylejustopeneduptomeinawaythathe’sprobablyneveropeneduptoanyone.He’sstrugglingtobeabetterpersonforme.
Yes,hescreweduplastnight.Buthe’shereandhe’stryingtomakemeunderstandhispastandwhyhereactedthewayhedid.Humansaren’tperfectandIcan’tletthe
onlyexampleI’veeverwitnessedofmarriageweighinonmyownmarriage.
Iwipemyeyesandpullmyselfup.WhenIlookinthemirror,Idon’tseemymother.Ijustseeme.Iseeagirlwholovesherhusbandandwantsmorethananythingtobeabletohelphim.
IknowRyleandIarestrongenoughtomovepastthis.Ourloveisstrongenoughtogetusthroughthis.
Iwalkoutofthebathroomandbackintothelivingroom.Rylestandsupandfacesme,hisfacefulloffear.He’sscaredI’mnotgoingtoforgivehim,andI’mnotsurethatI
doforgivehim.Butanactdoesn’thavetobeforgiveninordertolearnfromit
IwalkovertohimandIgrabbothofhishandsinmine.Ispeaktohimwithnothingbutnakedtruth.
“Rememberwhatyousaidtomeontheroofthatnight?Yousaid,‘Thereisnosuchthingasbadpeople.We’realljustpeoplewhosometimesdobad
things.’?”
Henodsandsqueezesmyhands.
“Youaren’tabadperson,Ryle.Iknowthat.Youcanstillprotectme.Whenyou’reupset,justwalkaway.AndI’llwalkaway.We’llleavethesituationuntil
you’recalmenoughtotalkaboutit,okay?Youarenotamonster,Ryle.You’reonlyhuman.Andashumans,wecan’texpecttoshoulderallofourpain.Sometimeswehaveto
shareitwiththepeoplewholoveussowedon’tcomecrashingdownfromtheweightofitall.ButIcan’thelpyouunlessIknowyouneedit.Askmeforhelp.We’llgetthrough
this,Iknowwecan.”
Heexhaleswhatfeelslikeeverybreathhe’sbeenholdinginsincelastnight.Hewrapshisarmstightlyaroundmeandburieshisfaceinmyhair.“Helpme,Lily,”hewhispers.
“Ineedyoutohelpme.”
HeholdsmeagainsthimandIknowdeepinmyheartthatI’mdoingtherightthing.Thereissomuchmoregoodinhimthanbad,andI’lldowhateverIcantoconvincehimofthat
untilhecanseeit,too.ChapterTwenty-One
“I’mheadingout.Youneedmetodoanythingelse?”
Ilookupfromthepaperworkandshakemyhead.“Thankyou,Serena.Seeyoutomorrow.”
Shenodsandwalksaway,leavingthedoortomyofficeopen.
Allysa’slastdaywastwoweeksago.She’sdueanydaynow.Ihavetwootherfull-timeemployees,SerenaandLucy.
Yes.ThatLucy.
She’sbeenmarriedforacoupleofmonthsnowandcameinlookingforajobtwoweeksago.It’sactuallyworkedoutprettywell.Shekeepsherselfbusy,andifI’mherewhen
sheis,IjustkeepmyofficedoorshutsoIdon’thavetolistentohersing.
It’sbeenalmostamonthsincetheincidentonthestairs.EvenwitheverythingRyletoldmeabouthischildhood,theforgivenesswasstillhardtocomeby.
IknowRylehasatemper.Isawitthefirstnightwemet,beforeweeverevenspokeawordtoeachother.Isawitthatawfulnightinmykitchen.Isawitwhenhefoundthephonenumberinmy
phonecase.
ButIalsoseethedifferencebetweenRyleandmyfather.Ryleiscompassionate.Hedoesthingsmyfatherneverwouldhavedone.Hedonatestocharity,hecaresaboutotherpeople,heputsme
beforeeverything.Rylewouldneverinamillionyearsmakemeparkinthedrivewaywhilehetookthegarage.
Ihavetoremindmyselfofthosethings.Sometimesthegirlinsideofme—thedaughterofmyfather—isreallyopinionated.ShetellsmeIshouldn’thaveforgivenhim.Shetells
meIshouldhaveleftthefirsttime.AndsometimesIbelievethatvoice.ButthenthesideofmethatknowsRyleunderstandsthatmarriagesaren’tperfect.Sometimestherearemomentsthat
bothpartiesregret.AndIwonderhowI’dfeelaboutmyselfhadIjustlefthimafterthatfirstincident.Henevershouldhavepushedme,butIalsodidthingsIwasn’tproud
of.AndifI’dhavejustleft,wouldthatnotbegoingagainstourmarriagevows?Forbetterorforworse.Irefusetogiveuponmymarriagethateasily.
Iamastrongwoman.I’vebeenaroundabusivesituationsmywholelife.Iwillneverbecomemymother.Ibelievethatahundredpercent.AndRylewillneverbecomemyfather.Ithinkwe
neededwhathappenedonthestairwelltohappensothatIwouldknowhispastandwe’dbeabletoworkonittogether.
Lastweekwegotintoanotherfight.
Iwasscared.Theothertwofightswe’dgottenintodidnotendwell,andIknewthiswouldbeatestamenttowhetherornotouragreementformetohelphimthroughhisangerwould
work.
Wewerediscussinghiscareer.He’sfinishedwithhisresidencynowandthere’sathree-monthspecializedcourseinCambridge,England,heappliedfor.He’llfindoutsoonif
hewasapproved,butthat’snotwhyIwasupset.It’sagreatopportunityandI’dneveraskhimnottogo.Threemonthsisnothingwithhowbusyweare,sothatwasn’teven
whatgotmesoupset.IbecameupsetwhenhediscussedwhathewantedtodoaftertheCambridgetripwasover.
HewasofferedajobinMinnesotaattheMayoClinicandhewantsustomovethere.HesaidMassGeneralisratedthesecondbestneurologicalhospitalintheworld.MayoClinicisnumber
one
HesaidheneverintendedtostayinBostonforever.ItoldhimthatwouldhavebeenagoodsubjecttobringupwhenwediscussedourfuturesontheflighttogetmarriedinVegas.Ican’t
leaveBoston.Mymotherliveshere.Allysaliveshere.Hetoldmeitwasonlyafive-hourflightandthatwecouldvisitasoftenaswewanted.Itoldhimitwasprettyhardtorunafloral
businesswhenyouliveseveralstatesaway.
Thefightcontinuedtoescalateandbothofusweregettingangrierbythesecond.Atonepoint,heknockedavasefullofflowersoffthetableandontothefloor.Webothjuststaredatthem
foramoment.Iwasscared,wonderingifIhadmadetherightdecisiontostay.Totrustthatwecouldworkonhisangerissuestogether.Hetookadeepbreathandhesaid,“I’mgoing
toleaveforanhourortwo.IthinkIneedtowalkaway.WhenIgetback,we’llcontinuethisdiscussion.”
Hewalkedoutthedoorand,truetohisword,hecamebackanhourlaterwhenhewasmuchcalmer.HedroppedhiskeysonthetableandthenwalkedstraighttowhereIwasstanding.Hetookmy
faceinhishandsandhesaid,“ItoldyouIwantedtobethebestinmyfield,Lily.Itoldyouthisthefirstnightweevermet.Itwasoneofmynakedtruths.ButifIhavetochoose
betweenworkingatthebesthospitalintheworldandmakingmywifehappy…Ichooseyou.Youaremysuccess.Aslongasyou’rehappy,Idon’tcarewhereI
work.We’llstayinBoston.”
That’swhenIknewthatIhadmadetherightchoice.Everyonedeservesanotherchance.Especiallythepeoplewhomeanthemosttoyou.
It’sbeenaweeksincethatfightandhehasn’tmentionedmovingagain.Ifeelbad,likeIthwartedhisplansinsomeway,butmarriageisaboutcompromise.It’saboutdoing
what’sbestforthecoupleasawhole,notindividually.AndstayinginBostonisbetterforeveryoneinbothofourfamilies.
Speakingoffamilies,IlookoveratmyphonerightasatextfromAllysacomesthrough.
Allysa:Areyoufinishedupatworkyet?Ineedyouropiniononfurniture.
Me:Bethereinfifteenminutes.
Idon’tknowifit’stheimpendingdeliveryorthefactthatshe’snotcurrentlyworking,butI’mprettysureI’vespentmoretimeatherhousethisweekthanI
haveatmyown.Icloseuptheshopandheadtowardherapartment.
???
WhenIstepofftheelevator,there’sanotetapedtoherapartmentdoor.Iseemynamewrittenacrossit,soIpullitoffthedoor.
Lily,
Ontheseventhfloor.Apartment749.
—A
Shehasanapartmentherejustforextrafurniture?Iknowthey’rerich,buteventhatseemsalittleexcessiveforthem.Igetontheelevatorandpressthebuttonfortheseventh
floor.Whenthedoorsopen,Iheaddownthehalltowardapartment749.WhenIreachit,IhavenoideaifIshouldknockorjustgoinside.ForallIknow,someonecouldlivehere.Probablyoneof
herpeople.
Iknockonthedoorandhearfootstepsfromtheotherside.
I’mshockedwhenthedoorswingsopenandRyleisstandinginfrontofme.
“Hey,”Isay,confused.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Hegrinsandleansagainstthedoorframe.“Ilivehere.Whatareyoudoinghere?”
Iglanceatthepewternumberplatenexttothedoorandthenbackathim.“Whatdoyoumeanyoulivehere?Ithoughtyoulivedwithme.You’vehadyourownapartmentthiswhole
time?”Iwouldthinkanentireapartmentwouldbesomethingahusbandwouldbringuptohiswifeatsomepoint.It’salittleunnerving.
Actually,it’sludicrousanddeceptive.IthinkImightbereallyangryathimrightnow.
Rylelaughsandpushesoffthedoorframe.Nowhe’sfillinguptheentiredoorwayasheliftshishandstotheframeoverhisheadandgripsit.“Ihaven’treallyhadachance
totellyouaboutthisapartment,consideringIjustsignedthepaperworkonitthismorning.”
Itakeastepback.“Wait.What?”
Hereachesformyhandandpullsmeinsidetheapartment.“Welcomehome,Lily.”
Ipauseinthefoyer.
Yes.Isaidfoyer.Thereisafoyer.
“Youboughtanapartment?”
Henodsslowly,gaugingmyreaction.
“Youboughtanapartment,”Irepeat.
He’sstillnodding.“Idid.Isthatokay?Ifiguredsincewelivetogethernowwecouldusetheextraroom.”
Ispininaslowcircle.Whenmyeyeslandonthekitchen,Ipause.It’snotasbigasAllysa’skitchen,butit’sjustaswhiteandalmostasbeautiful.There’sawine
coolerandadishwasher,twothingsmyownapartmentdoesn’thave.Iwalkintothekitchenandlookaround,scaredtotouchanything.Isthisreallymykitchen?Thiscan’tbemy
kitchen.
IlookinthelivingroomatthecathedralceilingsandthehugewindowsoverlookingBostonHarbor.
“Lily?”hesaysfrombehindme.“Youaren’tmad,areyou?”
Ispinandfacehim,realizingthathe’sbeenwaitingonmetoreactforthepastseveralminutes.ButI’mcompletelyspeechless.
Ishakemyheadandbringmyhanduptocovermymouth.“Idon’tthinkso,”Iwhisper.
Hewalksuptomeandtakesmyhandsinhis,pullingthemupbetweenus.“Youdon’tthinkso?”Helooksworriedandconfused.“Pleasegivemeanakedtruth,
becauseI’mstartingtothinkmaybeIshouldn’thavedonethisasasurprise.”
Ilookdownatthehardwoodfloor.It’srealhardwood.It’snotlaminate.“Okay,”Isay,lookingbackupathim.“Ithinkit’scrazythatyoujustwentand
boughtanapartmentwithoutme.Ifeellikethat’ssomethingweshouldhavedonetogether.”
He’snoddinganditlookslikehe’sabouttospitoutanapology,butI’mnotfinished.
“Butmynakedtruthisthat…it’sperfect.Idon’tevenknowwhattosay,Ryle.Everythingissoclean.I’mscaredtomove.Imightgetsomething
dirty.”
Heblowsoutarushofairandpullsmetohim.“Youcangetitdirty,babe.It’syours.Youcangetitasdirtyasyouwant.”HekissesthesideofmyheadandIdon’t
evensaythankyouyet.Itseemslikesuchasmallresponsetosuchahugegesture.
“Whendowemovein?”
Heshrugs.“Tomorrow?Ihavethedayoff.It’snotlikewehaveawholelotofstuff.Wecanspendthenextfewweeksbuyingnewfurniture.”
Inod,tryingtorunthroughtomorrow’sscheduleinmyhead.IalreadyknewRylewasofftomorrow,soIdidn’thaveanythingplanned.
Isuddenlyfeeltheneedtositdown.Therearen’tanychairs,butluckily,thefloorisclean.“Ineedtositdown.”
Rylehelpsmetothefloorandthenhelowershimselfinfrontofme,stillholdingmyhands.
“DoesAllysaknow?”Iaskhim.
Hesmilesandnodshishead.“She’ssoexcited,Lily.I’vebeenthinkingaboutgettinganapartmenthereforawhilenow.AfterwedecidedtostayinBostonforgood,Ijust
wentaheadwithittosurpriseyou.Shehelped,butIwasstartingtoworryshe’dtellyoubeforeIhadthechance.”
Ijustcan’twrapmyheadaroundthis.Ilivehere?MeandAllysagettobeneighborsnow?Idon’tknowwhyIfeellikethisshouldbotherme,becauseIreallyamexcitedabout
it.
Hesmilesandthensays,“Iknowyouneedaminutetoprocesseverything,butyouhaven’tseenthebestpartandit’skillingme.”
“Showme!”
Hegrinsandpullsmetomyfeet.Wemakeourwaythroughthelivingroomanddownahallway.Heopenseachdoorandtellsmewhattheroomsare,butdoesn’tevengivemetimetogoinany
ofthem.Bythetimewemakeittothemasterbedroom,I’veconcludedthatweliveinathree-bedroom,two-bathapartment.Withanoffice.
Idon’tevenhavetimetoprocessthebeautyofthebedroomashepullsmeacrosstheroom.Hereachesawallcoveredbyacurtainandheturnsandfacesme.“It’snotaground
thatyoucanplantagardenin,butwithafewpots,itcancomeclose.”Hepullsthecurtainasideandopensadoor,revealingahugebalcony.Ifollowhimoutside,alreadydaydreamingabout
allthepottedplantsIcouldfituphere.
“Itoverlooksthesameviewastherooftopdeck,”hesays.“We’llalwayshavethesameviewwehadfromthenightwemet.”
Ittookawhiletosinkin,butitallhitsmeinthismomentandIjuststartcrying.Rylepullsmetohischestandwrapshisarmstightlyaroundme.“Lily,”hewhispers,running
hishandovermyhair.“Ididn’tmeantomakeyoucry.”
Ilaughbetweenmytears.“Ijustcan’tbelieveIlivehere.”Ipullawayfromhischestandlookupathim.“Arewerich?Howcanyouaffordthis?”
Helaughs.“Youmarriedaneurosurgeon,Lily.Youaren’tnecessarilystrappedforcash.”
HiscommentmakesmelaughandthenIcrysomemore.Andthenwehaveourveryfirstvisitorbecausesomeonebeginspoundingonthedoor.
“Allysa,”hesays.“She’sbeenwaitingdownthehall.”
IruntothefrontdoorandswingitopenandwebothhugandsquealandImightevencryalittlemore.
Wespendtherestoftheeveningatournewapartment.RyleordersChinesetakeoutandMarshallcomesdowntoeatwithus.Wehavenotablesorchairsyet,sothefourofussitinthemiddleof
thelivingroomfloorandeatstraightoutofthecontainers.Wetalkabouthowwe’lldecorate,wetalkaboutalltheneighborlythingswe’lldotogether,wetalkaboutAllysa’s
impendingdelivery.
It’severythingandmore.
Ican’twaittotellmymother.ChapterTwenty-Two
Allysaisthreedaysoverdue.
We’velivedinournewapartmentforaweeknow.WesuccessfullygotallofourstuffmovedthedayRylewasoff,andAllysaandIwentfurnitureshoppingtheseconddaywemovedin.We
werepracticallysettledbythethirdday.Wegotourfirstpieceofmailyesterday.Itwasautilitybillforestablishingservice,soitfinallyfeelsofficialnow.
I’mmarried.Ihaveagreathusband.Anawesomehouse.Mybestfriendjusthappenstobemysister-in-lawandI’mabouttobeanaunt.
DareIsayit…butcanmylifegetanybetter?
Iclosemylaptopandgetreadytoleavefortheevening.I’vebeenleavingearliernowthanIusuallydobecauseI’msoexcitedtogethometomynewapartment.JustasIbeginto
closemyofficedoor,Ryleuseshiskeytoopenthefrontdoortothestore.Heletsthedoorfallshutbehindhimashewalksinwithhishandsfull.
There’sanewspapertuckedunderhisarmandtwocoffeesinhishands.Despitethefrenziedlookabouthimandtheurgencyinhisstep,he’ssmiling.“Lily,”hesays,
walkingtowardme.Heshovesoneofthecoffeesinmyhandandthenpullsthenewspaperoutfromunderhisarm.“Threethings.One…didyouseethepaper?”Hehands
ittome.Thepaperisfoldedinside-out.Hepointsatthearticle.“Yougotit,Lily.Yougotit!”
ItrynottogetmyhopesupasIlookdownatthearticle.HecouldbetalkingaboutsomethingtotallydifferentfromwhatI’mthinking.OnceIreadtheheadline,Irealizehe’s
talkingaboutexactlywhatIwasthinking.“Igotit?”
I’dbeennotifiedthatmybusinesswasnominatedforanawardforBestofBoston.It’sapeople’schoiceawardsthenewspaperholdsannually,andLilyBloom’swas
nominatedunderthe“BestnewbusinessesinBoston”category.Thecriteriaareforbusinessesthathavebeenopenlessthantwoyears.IhadasuspicionImighthavebeenchosenwhena
reporterforthepapercalledmelastweekandaskedmeaseriesofquestions.
Thetitlereads“BestnewbusinessesinBoston.Votesareinforyourtopten!”
IsmileandalmostspillmycoffeewhenRylepullsmein,picksmeup,andspinsmearound.
Hesaidhehadthreepiecesofnews,andifhestartedwiththatone,Ihavenoideawhattheothertwocouldbe.“What’sthesecondthing?”
Hesetsmebackdownonmyfeetandsays,“Istartedwiththebestone.Iwastooexcited.”Hetakesasipofhiscoffeeandthensays,“Igotselectedforthetrainingat
Cambridge.”
Myfaceistakenoverbyahugesmile.“Youdid?”Henodsandthenhehugsmeandspinsmearoundagain.“I’msoproudofyou,”Isay,kissinghim.
“We’rebothsosuccessful,it’ssickening.”
Helaughs.
“Numberthree?”Iaskhim.
Hepullsback.“Oh,yeah.Numberthree.”Hecasuallyleansagainstthecounterandtakesaslowsipofhiscoffee.Hegentlyplaceshiscoffeebackonthecounter.“Allysais
inlabor.”
“What?!”Iyell.
“Yeah.”Henodstowardourcoffees.“That’swhyIbroughtyoucaffeine.Wearen’tgettinganysleeptonight.”
Istartclapping,jumpingupanddown,andthenpanickingasItrytofindmypurse,myjacket,mykeys,myphone,thelightswitch.Rightbeforewemakeittothedoor,Rylerushesbacktothe
counterandgrabsthenewspaperandtucksitunderhisarm.MyhandsareshakingwithexcitementasIlockthedoor.
“We’regonnabeaunts!”IsayasIruntomycar.
Rylelaughsatmyjokeandsays,“Uncles,Lily.We’regonnabeuncles.”
???
Marshallcalmlystepsoutintothehallway.RyleandIbothperkupandwaitforthenews.It’sbeenquietinthereforthepasthalfanhour.We’vebeenwaitingto
hearAllysascreaminagony—asignshedelivered—buttherewerenosoundsatall.Noteventhecriesofanewborn.MyhandsgouptomymouthandseeingthelookonMarshall’s
facehasmefearingtheworst.
Hisshouldersjuststartshakingandtearspouroutofhiseyes.“I’madad.”Andthenhepunchestheair.“I’maDAD!”
HehugsRyleandthenmeandsays,“Giveusfifteenminutesandyoucancomeinsidetomeether.”
Whenheclosesthedoor,RyleandIbothreleasehugesighsofrelief.Welookateachotherandsmile.“Youwerethinkingtheworst,too?”heasks.
Inodandthenhughim.“You’reanuncle,”Isay,smiling.
Hekissesmyheadandsays,“Youtoo.”
Halfanhourlater,RyleandIarebothstandingnexttothebed,watchingAllysaholdhernewbaby.She’sabsolutelyperfect.Alittletoonewtotellwhoshelookslikeyet,but
she’sbeautiful,regardless.
“Youwanttoholdyourniece?”AllysasaystoRyle.
Hekindofstiffensuplikehe’snervous,butthenhenods.SheleansoverandputsthebabyinRyle’sarms,showinghimhowtoholdher.Hestaresdownathernervouslyandthen
walksovertothecouchandtakesaseat.“Haveyouguysdecidedonanameyet?”heasks.
“Yes,”Allysasays.
RyleandIbothlookatAllysaandshesmiles,tearyeyed.“WewantedtonameheraftersomeoneMarshallandIboththinktheworldof.SoweaddedanEtoyourname.We’re
callingherRylee.”
IinstantlylookbackoveratRyleandheblowsoutaquickbreathlikehe’salittleinshock.HelooksbackdownatRyleeandjuststartssmiling.“Wow,”hewhispers.
“Idon’tknowwhattosay.”
IsqueezeAllysa’shandandthenwalkoverandtakeaseatnexttoRyle.I’vehadalotofmomentswhenIthoughtIcouldn’tlovehimmorethanIalreadydo,butonceagain
I’mprovenwrong.Seeingthewayhelooksathisnewbabyniecemakesmyheartexpand.
MarshallsitsdownonthebednexttoAllysa.“DidyouguyshearhowquietIssawasthroughthewholething?Notasinglepeep.Shedidn’teventakedrugs.”Heputshisarm
aroundherandliesdownnexttoheronthebed.“IfeellikeI’minthatmovieHancockwithWillSmithandI’mabouttofindoutI’mmarriedtoa
superhero.”
Rylelaughs.“She’skickedmyassatimeortwogrowingup.Iwouldn’tbesurprised.”
“NocussingaroundRylee,”Marshallsays.
“Ass,”Rylewhisperstoher.
WebothlaughandthenheasksmeifIwanttoholdher.ImakelikeIhavegrabbyhandsbecausewaitingformyturnhasbeenkillingme.Ipullherintomyarmsandamshockedbyhowmuchlove
Ihaveforheralready.
“WhenareMomandDadcomingin?”RyleasksAllysa.
“They’llbeherebylunchtomorrow.”
“Ishouldprobablygetsomesleepthen.Justgotoffalongshift.”Helooksbackatme.“Youcomingwith?”
Ishakemyhead.“Iwanttohangoutforalittlewhilelonger.JusttakemycarandI’llcatchacabhome.”
HekissesmeonthesideofmyheadandthenrestshisheadagainstmineaswebothlookdownatRylee.“Ithinkweshouldmakeoneofthese,”hesays.
Iglanceupathim,notsureifIheardhimcorrectly.
Hewinks.“IfI’masleepwhenyougethomelater,wakemeup.We’llstartonittonight.”HetellsMarshallandAllysagoodbyeandMarshallwalkshimout.
IglanceoveratAllysaandshe’ssmiling.“Itoldyouhe’dwantbabieswithyou.”
Igrinandwalkbackovertoherbed.Shescootsoverandmakesroomforme.IhandRyleebacktoherandwesnuggletogetheronherbedandwatchRyleesleep,likeit’sthemost
magnificentthingwe’veeverseen.ChapterTwenty-Three
It’sthreehourslaterandafterteno’clockwhenImakeitbackhome.IstayedwithAllysaforanotherhourafterRyleleftandthenwentbacktomyofficeto
finishupafewthingssothatIdon’thavetogoinforthenexttwodays.WheneverRylehasadayoff,Itrytocoincidemyowndaysoffwithhis.
ThelightsareoffwhenIwalkthroughthefrontdoor,sothatmeansRyleisalreadyinbed.
TheentiredrivehomeIthoughtaboutwhathe’dsaid.Iwasn’texpectingthisconversationtocomeupsosoon.I’malmosttwenty-five,butIhaditinmyheaditwouldbeat
leastacoupleofyearsbeforewestartedtryingforafamily.I’mstillnotcertainI’mreadyforityet,butknowingit’snowsomethinghewantssomedayhasputmeinan
incrediblyhappymood.
Idecidetomakemyselfaquickbitetoeatbeforewakinghimup.Ihaven’thaddinneryetandI’mstarving.WhenIfliponthekitchenlight,Iscream.Myhandgoestomychestand
Ifallagainstthecounter.“JesusChrist,Ryle!Whatareyoudoing?”
He’sleaningwithhisbackagainstthewallnexttotherefrigerator.Hisfeetarecrossedattheanklesandhiseyesarenarrowedinmydirection.He’sflippingsomethingoverin
hisfingers,staringatme.
MyeyesfalltothecountertohisleftandIseeanemptyglassthatprobablyrecentlyheldscotch.Hedrinksitonoccasiontohelphimfallasleep.
Ilookbackathimandthere’sasmirkonhisface.MybodyinstantlygrowswarmatthatsmilebecauseIknowwhatcomesnext.Thisapartmentisabouttobecomeafrenzyofclothesand
kisses.We’vechristenednearlyeveryroomsincewemovedinhere,butthekitchenisonewehaven’ttackledyet.
Ismilebackathim,myheartstillbeatingerraticallyfromtheshockoffindinghimhereinthedark.Hiseyesfalltohishand,andInoticehe’sholdingtheBostonmagnet.Ibroughtit
fromtheoldapartmentandstuckitonthisfridgewhenwemovedin.
Heplacesitbackonthefridgeandtapsit.“Where’dyougetthis?”
Ilookatthemagnetandthenbackathim.ThelastthingIwanttodoistellhimthatmagnetcamefromAtlasonmysixteenthbirthday.Itwouldonlybringupanalreadysoresubject,and
I’mtooexcitedforwhat’sabouttocomenextbetweenustogivehimthenakedtruthrightnow.
Ishrug.“Ican’tremember.I’vehaditforever.”
Hestaresatmesilentlyandthenstraightensup,takingtwostepstowardme.Ibackmyselfagainstthecounterandmybreathcatches.Hishandsmeetmywaistandheslidesthembetweenmyass
andmyjeansandpullsmeagainsthim.Hismouthclaimsmineandhekissesmewhilehebeginstolowermyjeans.
Okay.Sowe’redoingthisrightnow
HislipsdragdownmyneckasIkickoffmyshoesandthenhepullsmyjeansofftherestoftheway.
IguessIcaneatlater.Christeningthekitchenjustbecamemypriority.
Whenhismouthisbackonmine,heliftsmeandsetsmedownonthecountertop,standingbetweenmyknees.Icansmellthescotchonhisbreath,andIkindoflikeit.I’malready
breathingheavilyashiswarmlipsslideacrossmine.HetakesafistfulofmyhairandhetugsgentlysothatI’mlookingupathim.
“Nakedtruth?”hewhispers,lookingatmymouthlikehe’sabouttodevourme.
Inod.
Hisotherhandbeginstoslideslowlyupmythighuntilthere’snowhereleftforhishandtogo.Heslipstwowarmfingersinsideofme,keepingmygazelockedwithhis.Isuckinarush
ofairasmylegstightenaroundhiswaist.Ibegintoslowlymoveagainsthishand,moaningsoftlyashestaresheatedlyatme.
“Wheredidyougetthatmagnet,Lily?”
What?
Myheartfeelslikeitbeginsbeatinginreverse.
Whydoeshekeepaskingmethis?
Hisfingersarestillmovinginsideofme,hiseyesstilllookliketheywantme.Buthishand.Thehandthat’swrappedinmyhairbeginstotugharderandIwince.
“Ryle,”Iwhisper,keepingmyvoicecalm,eventhoughI’mbeginningtoshake.“Thathurts.”
Hisfingersstopmoving,buthisgazeneverleavesmine.Heslowlypullshisfingersoutofmeandthenbringshishanduparoundmythroat,squeezinggently.Hislipsmeetmineandhistongue
divesinsidemymouth.Itakeit,becauseIhavenoideawhat’sgoingthroughhisheadrightnowandIprayI’moverreacting.
Icanfeelhimhardagainsthisjeansashepressesintome.Butthenhepullsback.Hishandsleavemeentirelyasheflattenshisbackagainsttherefrigerator,scrapinghiseyesovermybody
likehewantstotakemerighthereinthekitchen.Myheartbeginstocalmdown.I’moverreacting.
Hereachesbesidehim,nexttothestove,andhepicksupanewspaper.It’sthesamenewspaperheshowedmeearlier,withtheawardsarticleprintedinit.Heholdsitup,thentossesit
towardme.“Didyougetachancetoreadthatyet?”
Iblowoutabreathofrelief.“Notyet,”Isay,myeyesfallingtothearticle.
“Readitoutloud.”
Iglanceupathim.Ismile,butmystomachisanxious.There’ssomethingabouthimrightnow.Thewayhe’sacting.Ican’tputmyfingeronit.
“Youwantmetoreadthearticle?”Iask.“Rightnow?”
Ifeelodd,sittingonmykitchencounterhalfnaked,holdinganewspaper.Henods.“I’dlikeyoutotakeoffyourshirtfirst.Thenreaditoutloud.”
Istareathim,tryingtogaugehisbehavior.Maybethescotchhasmadehimextrafrisky.Alotoftimeswhenwemakelove,it’sassimpleasmakinglove.Butoccasionally,oursexis
wild.Alittledangerous,likethelookinhiseyesrightnow.
Isetthepaperdown,pulloffmyshirt,andthenpickthepaperbackup.Istartreadingthearticleoutloud,buthetakesastepforwardandsays,“Notthewholething.”Heflips
thepaperoverwhereitstartsinthemiddleofthearticleandhepointstoasentence.“Readthelastfewparagraphs.”
Ilookdown,evenmoreconfusedthistime.Butwhateverwillgetuspastthisandintothebed…
“Thebusinesswiththehighestnumberofvotesshouldcomeasnosurprise.TheiconicBib’sonMarketsonopenedinApriloflastyear,quicklybecomingoneofthehighestrated
restaurantsinthecity,accordingtoTripAdvisor.”
IstopreadingandlookupatRyle.Hehaspouredhimselfmorescotchandhe’sswallowingasipofit.“Keepreading,”hesays,nudginghisheadatthepaperinmyhand.
Iswallowheavily,thesalivainmymouthgrowingthickerbythesecond.ItrytocontrolthetremblingofmyhandsasIcontinuereading.“Theowner,AtlasCorrigan,isatwo-time
award-winningchefandalsoaUnitedStatesMarine.It’snosecretwhattheacronymforhishighlysuccessfulrestaurant,Bib’s,standsfor:BetterInBoston.”
Igasp.
EverythingisbetterinBoston
Iclenchmystomach,tryingtokeepmyemotionsundercontrolasIkeepreading.“Butwheninterviewedregardinghismostrecentaward,thecheffinallyrevealedthetruehistoryofthe
meaningbehindthename.‘It’salongstory,’ChefCorriganstated.‘Itwasanhomagetosomeonewhohadahugeimpactonmylife.Someonewhomeantalottome.
Shestillmeansalottome.’?”
Iputthenewspaperonthecounter.“Idon’twanttoreadanymore.”Myvoicecracksonitswayupmythroat.
Ryletakestwoswiftstepsforwardandgrabsthenewspaper.HepicksupwhereIleftoff,hisvoiceloudandangrynow.“Whenaskedifthegirlwasawarehenamedarestaurantafterher,
ChefCorrigansmiledknowinglyandsaid,‘Nextquestion.’?”
TheangerinRyle’svoicemakesmenauseous.“Ryle,stopit,”Isaycalmly.“You’vehadtoomuchtodrink.”Ipushpasthimandwalkquicklyoutofthe
kitchentowardthehallwaythatleadstoourbedroom.There’ssomuchhappeningrightnowandI’mnotsureIunderstandanyofit.
ThearticleneverstatedwhoAtlaswastalkingabout.AtlasknowsitwasmeandIknowitwasme,buthowinthehellwouldRyleputtwoandtwotogether?
Andthemagnet.HowwouldheknowthatcamefromAtlasjustbyreadingthatarticle?
He’soverreacting.
IcanhearhimfollowingmeasIwalktowardthebedroom.Iswingopenthedoorandcometoasuddenhalt.
Thebedislitteredwiththings.Anemptymovingboxwiththewords,“Lily’sstuff,”writtenonthesideofit.Andthenallthecontentsthatwereinsidethatbox.
Letters…journals…emptyshoeboxes.Iclosemyeyesandbreatheinslowly.
Hereadthejournal.
No.
He.Read.The.Journal.
Hisarmcomesaroundmywaistfrombehind.Heslidesahandupmystomachandtakesafirmholdofoneofmybreasts.Hisotherhandfeathersmyshoulderashemovesthehairawayfrommy
neck.
Isqueezemyeyesshut,justashisfingersbegintotraceacrossmyskin,uptomyshoulder.Heslowlyrunshisfingerovertheheartandashudderrunsovermywholebody.Hislipsmeetmy
skin,rightoverthetattoo,andthenhesinkshisteethintomesohard,Iscream.
Itrytopullawayfromhim,buthehassuchatightgriponmehedoesn’tevenbudge.Thepainfromhisteethpiercingmycollarboneripsthroughmyshoulderanddownmyarm.I
immediatelystartcrying.Sobbing.
“Ryle,letmego,”Isay,myvoicepleading.“Please.Walkaway.”Hisarmsarecuttingintomineasheholdsmetightlyfrombehind.
Hespinsme,butmyeyesarestillclosed.I’mtooscaredtolookathim.Hishandsarediggingintomyshouldersashepushesmetowardthebed.Istarttryingtofighthimoffofme,but
it’suseless.He’stoostrongforme.He’sangry.He’shurt.Andhe’snotRyle.
MybackmeetsthebedandIfranticallyscootbacktowardtheheadboard,tryingtogetawayfromhim.“Whyishestillhere,Lily?”Hisvoiceisn’tascomposedasitwasinthe
kitchen.He’sreallyangrynow.“He’sineverything.Themagnetonthefridge.ThejournalintheboxIfoundinourcloset.Thefuckingtattooonyourbodythat
usedtobemyfavoritegoddamnpartofyou!”
He’sonthebednow.
“Ryle,”Ibeg.“Icanexplain.”Tearsstreakdownmytemplesandintomyhair.“You’reangry.Pleasedon’thurtme,please.Walkaway,andwhen
youcomeback,I’llexplain.”
HishandgripsmyankleandheyanksmeuntilI’mbeneathhim.“I’mnotangry,Lily,”hesays,hisvoicedisturbinglycalmnow.“IjustthinkIhaven’tproved
toyouhowmuchIloveyou.”Hisbodycomesdownagainstmineandhetakesmywristswithonehandabovemyhead,pressingthemagainstthemattress.
“Ryle,please.”I’msobbing,tryingtopushhimoffofmewithanypartofmybody.“Getoffme.Please.”
No,no,no,no.
“Iloveyou,Lily,”hesays,hiswordscrashingagainstmycheek.“Morethanheeverdid.Whycan’tyouseethat?”
Myfearfoldsinonitself,andIbecomedilutedwithrage.AllIcanseewhenIsqueezemyeyesshutismymothercryingonouroldlivingroomcouch;myfatherforcinghimselfontopofher.
HatredripsthroughmeandIstartscreaming.
Ryletriestomufflemyscreamswithhismouth.
Ibitedownonhistongue.
Hisforeheadcomescrashingdownagainstmine.
Inaninstant,allthepainfadesasablanketofdarknessrollsovermyeyesandconsumesme.
???
Icanfeelhisbreathagainstmyearashemutterssomethinginaudible.Myheartisracing,mywholebodyisstillshaking,mytearsarestillsomehowfallingandI’m
gaspingforair.Hiswordsarecrashingagainstmyear,butthepainisthrobbinginmyheadtoohardformetodecipherhiswords.
Itrytoopenmyeyes,butitstings.IcanfeelsomethingtricklingintomyrighteyeandIinstantlyknowit’sblood.
Myblood.
Hiswordsbegintocomeintofocus.
“Sorry,I’msorry,I’msorry,I’m…”
Hishandisstillpressingmineintothemattressandhe’sstillontopofme.He’snolongertryingtoforcehimselfonme.
“Lily,Iloveyou,I’msosorry.”
Hiswordsarefullofpanic.He’skissingme,hislipsgentleagainstmycheekandmouth.
Heknowswhathe’sdone.He’sRyleagain,andheknowswhathe’sjustdonetome.Tous.Toourfuture.
Iutilizehispanictomyadvantage.IshakemyheadandIwhisper,“It’sokay,Ryle.It’sokay.Youwereangry,it’sokay.”
Hislipsmeetmineinafrenzyandthetasteofscotchmakesmewanttopukenow.He’sstillwhisperingapologieswhentheroombeginstofadeoutagain
???
Myeyesareclosed.We’restillonthebed,buthe’snolongerfullyontopofme.He’sonhisside,hisarmwrappedtightlyovermywaist.Hisheadispressed
againstmychest.IremainstiffasIassesseverythingaroundme.
Heisn’tmoving,butIcanfeelhisbreaths,heavywithsleep.Idon’tknowifhepassedoutorifhefellasleep.ThelastthingIcanrememberishismouthonmine,thetasteofmy
owntears.
Iliestillforseveralmoreminutes.Thepaininmyheadbeginstoworsenwitheveryminuteofconsciousness.Iclosemyeyesandtrytothink.
Where’smypurse?
Wherearemykeys?
Whereismyphone?
Ittakesmeafullfiveminutestoslideoutfromunderhim.I’mtooscaredtomovetoomuchatonce,soIdoitaninchatatimeuntilI’mabletorollontothefloor.WhenIcan
nolongerfeelhishandsonme,anunexpectedsobbreaksfrommychest.IslapmyhandovermymouthasIpullmyselftomyfeetandrunoutofthebedroom.
Ifindmypurseandmyphone,butIhavenoideawhereheputmykeys.Ifranticallysearchthelivingroomandkitchen,butIcanbarelyseeanything.Whenhehead-buttedme,itmusthaveleft
agashonmyforehead,becausethere’stoomuchbloodinmyeyesandeverythingisblurry.
Islidetothefloornearthedoor,growingdizzy.Myfingersareshakingsohard,ittakesthreetriestogetthepasswordrightonmyphone.
WhenIhavethescreenuptodialanumber,Ipause.MyfirstthoughtistocallAllysaandMarshall,butIcan’t.Ican’tdothattothemrightnow.Shejustgavebirthtoababya
matterofhoursago.Ican’tdothistothem.
Icouldcallthepolice,butmymindcan’tevenprocesswhatallthatentails.Idon’twanttogiveastatement.Idon’tknowthatIwanttopresscharges,knowingwhatthis
coulddotohiscareer.Idon’twantAllysamadatme.Ijustdon’tknow.Idon’tcompletelyruleouteventuallynotifyingthepolice.Ijustdon’thavetheenergytomake
thatdecisionrightnow.
IsqueezethephoneandtrytothinkMymother.
Istarttodialhernumber,butwhenIthinkofwhatthiswoulddotoherIstarttocryagain.Ican’tinvolveherinthismess.She’sbeenthroughtoomuch.AndRylewilltryto
findme.He’llgotoherfirst.ThenAllysaandMarshall.Thentoeveryoneelseweknow.
IwipethetearsfrommyeyesandthenbegindialingAtlas’snumber.
IhatemyselfmoreinthismomentthanIeverhaveinmyentirelife.
Ihatemyself,becausethedayRylefoundAtlas’snumberinmyphone,IliedandsaidIhadforgottenitwasthere.
Ihatemyself,becausethedayAtlasplacedhisnumberthere,Iopeneditandlookedatit.
Ihatemyself,becausedeepdowninside,IknewtherewasachancethatImightonedayneedit.SoImemorizedit.
“Hello?”
Hisvoiceiscautious.Inquiring.Hedoesn’trecognizethisnumber.Iimmediatelystartcryingwhenhespeaks.Icovermymouthandtrytoquietmyself.
“Lily?”Hisvoiceismuchloudernow.“Lily,whereareyou?”
Ihatemyself,becauseheknowsthetearsaremine.
“Atlas,”Iwhisper.“Ineedhelp.”
“Whereareyou?”hesaysagain.Icanhearpanicinhisvoice.Icanhearhimwalking,movingstuffaround.Ihearadoorslamonhisendofthephone.
“I’lltextyou,”Iwhisper,tooscaredtokeepspeaking.Idon’twantRyletowakeup.IhangupthephoneandsomehowfindthestrengthtostillmyhandswhileItext
himmyaddressandtheaccesscodeforentry.ThenIsendasecondtextthatsaysTextmewhenyougethere.Pleasedon’t
knock.
Icrawltothekitchenandfindmypants,strugglingbackintothem.Ifindmyshirtonthecounter.WhenI’mdressed,Igotothelivingroom.IdebateopeningthedoorandmeetingAtlas
downstairs,butI’mtooscaredIwon’tbeabletomakeitdowntothelobbyalone.MyforeheadisstillbleedingandIfeeltooweaktoevenstandupandwaitbythedoor.Islideto
thefloor,clenchingmyphoneinmyshakyfistandstaringatit,waitingforhistext.
It’sanagonizingtwenty-fourminuteslaterwhenmyphonelightsup.
Here.
Iscrambletomyfeetandswingopenthedoor.Armswraparoundmeandmyfaceispressedagainstsomethingsoft.Ijuststartcryingandcryingandshakingandcrying.
“Lily,”hewhispers.I’veneverheardmynamespokensosadly.Heurgesmetolookupathim.Hisblueeyesscrollovermyface,andIseeithappen.Iwatchtheconcernvanish
ashedartshisheaduptotheapartmentdoor.“Ishestillinthere?”
Rage.
Icanfeeltheragecomeoffofhimandhestartstosteptowardtheapartmentdoor.Igrabhisjacketinmyfists.“No.Please,Atlas.Ijustwanttoleave.”
Iseethepainrolloverhimashepauses,strugglingtodecidewhethertolistentomeorbustthroughthedoor.Heeventuallyturnsawayfromthedoorandwrapshisarmsaroundme.Hehelpsme
totheelevatorandthenthroughthelobby.Bysomemiracle,weonlyrunintoonepersonandhe’sonhisphoneandfacingtheotherdirection.
Bythetimewemakeittotheparkinggarage,Istarttofeeldizzyagain.Itellhimtoslowdown,andthenIfeelhisarmwrapundermykneesashepicksmeup.Thenwe’reinthecar.
Thenthecarismoving.
IknowIneedstitches.
Iknowhe’stakingmetothehospital.
ButIhavenoideawhythenextwordsoutofmymouthare,“Don’ttakemetoMassGeneral.Takemesomewhereelse.”
Forwhateverreason,Idon’twanttoriskthechanceofrunningintoanyofRyle’scolleagues.Ihatehim.IhatehiminthismomentmorethanI’veeverhatedmyfather.But
concernforhiscareerstillsomehowbreaksthroughthehatred.
WhenIrealizethis,IhatemyselfjustasmuchasIhatehim.ChapterTwenty-Four
Atlasisstandingontheothersideoftheroom.Hehasn’ttakenhiseyesoffmetheentiretimethenursehasbeenhelpingme.Aftertakingabloodsample,she
immediatelyreturnedandbegantoattendtomycut.Shehasn’taskedmeverymanyquestionsyet,butit’sobviousmyinjuriesaretheresultofanattack.Icanseethepityinglookon
herfaceasshecleansupbloodfromthebitemarkleftonmyshoulder.
Whenshe’sfinished,sheglancesbackatAtlas.Shestepstotheright,blockinghisviewofmeassheturnsandfacesmeagain.“Ineedtoaskyousomepersonalquestions.I’m
goingtoaskhimtoleavetheroom,okay?”
It’sinthatmomentthatIrealizeshethinksAtlasistheonewhodidthesethingstome.Iimmediatelystarttoshakemyhead.“Itwasn’thim,”Itellher.
“Pleasedon’tmakehimleave.”
Reliefwashesoverherface.Shenodsherheadandthenpullsupachair.“Areyouhurtanywhereelse?”
Ishakemyhead,becauseshecan’tfixallthepartsofmeRylebrokeontheinside.
“Lily?”Hervoiceisgentle.“Wereyouraped?”
TearsfillmyeyesandIseeAtlasrollacrossthewall,pressinghisforeheadagainstit.
ThenursewaitsuntilImakeeyecontactwithheragaintocontinuespeaking.“Wehaveacertainexaminationforthesesituations.It’scalledaSANEexam.It’soptional,of
course,butIhighlyencourageitinyoursituation.”
“Iwasn’traped,”Isay.“Hedidn’t…”
“Areyousure,Lily?”thenurseasks.
Inod.“Idon’twantone.”
AtlasfacesmeagainandIcanseethepaininhisexpressionashestepsforward.“Lily.Youneedthis.”Hiseyesarepleading.
Ishakemyheadagain.“Atlas,Iswear…”Isqueezemyeyesshutandlowermyhead.“I’mnotcoveringforhimthistime,”Iwhisper.“He
tried,butthenhestopped.”
“Ifyouchoosetopresscharges,you’llneed—”
“Idon’twanttheexam,”Isayagain,myvoicefirm.
There’saknockonthedoorandadoctorenters,sparingmefrommorepleadinglooksfromAtlas.Thenursegivesthedoctorabriefrundownofmyinjuries.Shethenstepsasideashe
examinesmyheadandshoulder.Heflashesalightintobothofmyeyes.Helooksdownatthepaperworkagainandsays,“I’dliketoruleoutaconcussion,butgivenyoursituation,I
don’twanttoadministeraCT.We’dliketokeepyouforobservation,instead.”
“Whydon’tyouwanttoadministeraCT?”Iaskhim.
Thedoctorstandsup.“Wedon’tliketoperformX-raysonpregnantwomenunlessit’svital.We’llmonitoryouforcomplicationsandiftherearenofurtherconcerns,
you’llbefreetogo.”
Idon’thearanythingbeyondthat.
Nothing.
Thepressurebeginstobuildinmyhead.Myheart.Mystomach.IgriptheedgesoftheexamtableI’msittingonandIstareattheflooruntiltheybothleavetheroom.
Whenthedoorclosesbehindthem,Isit,suspendedinfrozensilence.IseeAtlasmovecloser.Hisfeetarealmosttouchingmine.Hisfingersbrushlightlyovermyback.“Didyou
know?”
Ireleaseaquickbreath,andthendraginmoreair.Istartshakingmyhead,andwhenhisarmscomedownaroundme,IcryharderthanIknewmybodywasevencapableof.Heholdsmetheentire
timeIcry.Heholdsmethroughmyhatred.
Ididthistomyself.
Iallowedthistohappentome.
Iammymother.
“Iwanttoleave,”Iwhisper.
Atlaspullsback.“Theywanttomonitoryou,Lily.Ithinkyoushouldstay.”
Ilookupathimandshakemyhead.“Ineedtogetoutofhere.Please.Iwanttoleave.”
Henodsandhelpsmebackintomyshoes.Hepullsoffhisjacketandwrapsitaroundme,thenwewalkoutofthehospitalwithoutanyonenoticing.
Hesaysnothingtomeaswedrive.Istareoutthewindow,tooexhaustedtocry.Tooinshocktospeak.Ifeelsubmerged.
Justkeepswimming.
???
Atlasdoesn’tliveinanapartment.Helivesinahouse.AsmallsuburboutsideofBostoncalledWellesley,whereallthehomesarebeautiful,sprawling,manicured,and
expensive.Beforewepullintohisdriveway,Iwondertomyselfifheevermarriedthatgirl.Cassie.Iwonderwhatshe’llthinkofherhusbandbringinghomeagirlheoncelovedwho
hasjustbeenattackedbyherownhusband.
She’llpityme.She’llwonderwhyIneverlefthim.She’llwonderhowIletmyselfgettothispoint.She’llwonderallthesamethingsIusedtowonderaboutmyown
motherwhenIsawherinmysamesituation.Peoplespendsomuchtimewonderingwhythewomendon’tleave.Whereareallthepeoplewhowonderwhythemenareevenabusive?Isn’tthat
wheretheonlyblameshouldbeplaced?
Atlasparksinthegarage.There’snotanothervehiclehere.Idon’twaitforhimtohelpmeoutofthecar.Iopenthedoorandgetoutonmyown,andthenIfollowhimintohis
house.Hepunchesinacodeonanalarmandthenflipsonafewlights.Myeyesroamaroundthekitchen,thediningroom,thelivingroom.Everythingismadeofrichwoodsandstainlesssteel,and
hiskitchenispaintedacalmingbluish-green.Thecoloroftheocean.IfIwasn’thurtingsomuch,Iwouldsmile.
Atlaskeptswimming,andlookathimnow.HeswamallthewaytothefuckingCaribbean.
Hemovestohisrefrigeratorandpullsoutabottleofwater,walkingitovertome.Hetakesthelidoffandhandsittome.Itakeadrinkandwatchasheturnsthelivingroomlighton,then
thehallway.
“Doyoulivealone?”Iask.
Henodsashewalksbackintothekitchen.“Areyouhungry?”
Ishakemyhead.EvenifIwas,Iwouldn’tbeabletoeat.
“I’llshowyouyourroom,”hesays.“There’sashowerifyouneedit.”
Ido.Iwanttowashthetasteofscotchoutofmymouth.Iwanttowashthesterilesmellofthehospitaloffofme.Iwanttowashawaythelastfourhoursofmylife.
Ifollowhimdownthehallwayandtoasparebedroomwhereheflipsonthelight.Therearetwoboxesonabarebedandmorestackedupagainstthewalls.There’sanoversizedchair
againstonewall,facingthedoor.Hemovestothebedandtakesofftheboxes,settingthemagainstthewallwiththeothers
“Ijustmovedinafewmonthsago.Haven’thadmuchtimetodecorateyet.”Hewalkstoadresserandpullsopenadrawer.“I’llmakethebedforyou.”He
takesoutsheetsandapillowcase.HebeginsmakingthebedasIwalkinsidethebathroomandclosethedoor.
Iremaininthebathroomforthirtyminutes.Someofthoseminutesarespentstaringatmyreflectioninthemirror.Someofthoseminutesarespentintheshower.Therestarespentoverthe
toiletasImakemyselfsickwiththoughtsofthelastseveralhours.
I’mwrappedinatowelwhenIcrackthebathroomdoor.Atlasisnolongerinthebedroom,butthereareclothesfoldedonthefreshlymadebed.Men’spajamabottomsthataretoobig
formeandaT-shirtthatgoespastmyknees.Ipullthedrawstringtight,tieit,andthencrawlintobed.Iturnthelampoffandpullthecoversupandoverme.
Icrysohard,Idon’tevenmakeanoise.ChapterTwenty-Five
Ismelltoast.
Istretchoutonmybedandsmile,becauseRyleknowstoastismyfavorite.
Myeyesflickopenandtheclaritysmashesdownonmewiththeforceofahead-oncollision.IsqueezemyeyesshutwhenIrealizewhereIamandwhyI’mhereandthatthetoastIsmellis
notatallbecausemysweetandcaringhusbandismakingmebreakfastinbed.
Iimmediatelywanttocryagain,soIforcemyselfoffthebed.IfocusonthehollownessinmystomachasIusethebathroom,andtellmyselfIcancryafterIeatsomething.Ineedtoeat
beforeImakemyselfsickagain.
WhenIwalkoutofthebathroomandbackintothebedroom,Inoticethechairhasbeenturnedsothatit’sfacingthebednowinsteadofthedoor.There’sablanketthrownoverit
haphazardly,andit’sobviousAtlaswasinherelastnightwhileIslept.
HewasprobablyworriedIhadaconcussion.
WhenIwalkintothekitchen,Atlasismovingbackandforthbetweenthefridge,thestove,thecounter.Forthefirsttimeintwelvehours,Ifeelaninklingofsomethingthatisn’t
agony,becauseIrememberhe’sachef.Agoodone.Andhe’scookingmebreakfast.
HeglancesupatmeasImakemywayintothekitchen.“Morning,”hesays,carefultosayitwithouttoomuchinflection.“Ihopeyou’rehungry.”Heslidesaglass
andacontaineroforangejuiceacrossthecountertowardme,thenheturnsandfacesthestoveagain.
“Iam.”
Heglancesbackoverhisshoulderandgivesmeaghostofasmile.Ipourmyselfaglassoforangejuiceandthenwalktotheothersideofthekitchenwherethere’sabreakfastnook.
There’sanewspaperonthetableandIbegintopickitup.WhenIseethearticleaboutthebestbusinessesinBostonprintedacrossthepage,myhandsimmediatelybegintoshakeandIdrop
thepaperbackonthetable.Iclosemyeyesandtakeaslowsipoftheorangejuice.
Afewminuteslater,Atlassetsaplatedowninfrontofme,thenclaimstheseatacrossfrommeatthetable.Hepullshisownplateoffoodinfrontofhimandcutsintoacrepewithhis
fork.
Ilookdownatmyplate.Threecrepes,drizzledinsyrupandgarnishedwithadabofwhippedcream.Orangeandstrawberrysliceslinetherightsideoftheplate.
It’salmosttooprettytoeat,butI’mtoohungrytocare.Itakeabiteandclosemyeyes,tryingnottomakeitobviousthatit’sthebestbiteofbreakfastI’veever
had.
Ifinallyallowmyselftoadmitthathisrestaurantdeservedthataward.AsmuchasItriedtotalkRyleandAllysaoutofgoingback,itwasthebestrestaurantI’deverbeento.
“Wheredidyoulearntocook?”Iaskhim.
Hesipsfromacupofcoffee.“TheMarines,”hesays,placingthecupbackdown.“ItrainedforawhileduringmyfirststintandthenwhenIreenlistedIcameonasa
chef.”Hetapshisforkagainstthesideofhisplate.“Youlikeit?”
Inod.“It’sdelicious.Butyou’rewrong.Youknewhowtocookbeforeyouenlisted.”
Hesmiles.“Yourememberthecookies?”
Inodagain.“BestcookiesI’veevereaten.”
Heleansbackinhischair.“Itaughtmyselfthebasics.MymotherworkedsecondshiftwhenIwasgrowingup,soifIwanteddinneratnightIhadtomakeit.Itwaseitherthatorstarve,
soIboughtacookbookatayardsaleandmadeeverysinglerecipeinitoverthecourseofayear.AndIwasonlythirteen.”
Ismile,shockedthatI’mevenableto.“Thenexttimesomeoneasksyouhowyoulearnedtocook,youshouldtellthemthatstory.Nottheotherone.”
Heshakeshishead.“You’retheonlypersonwhoknowsanythingaboutmebeforetheageofnineteen.I’dliketokeepitthatway.”
Hebeginstellingmeaboutworkingasachefinthemilitary.Howhesavedupasmuchmoneyashecouldsothatwhenhegotout,hecouldopenhisownrestaurant.Hestartedwithasmall
caféthatdidreallywell,thenopenedBib’sayearandahalfago.“Itdoesokay,”hesayswithmodesty.
Iglancearoundhiskitchenandthenlookbackathim.“Lookslikeitdoesmorethanjustokay.”
Heshrugsandtakesanotherbiteofhisfood.Idon’ttalkafterthataswefinisheating,becausemymindwanderstohisrestaurant.Thenameofit.Whathesaidintheinterview.Then,
ofcourse,thosethoughtsleadmebacktothoughtsofRyleandtheangerinhisvoiceasheyelledthelastlineoftheinterviewatme.
IthinkAtlascanseethechangeinmydemeanor,buthesaysnothingasheclearsthetable.
Whenhetakesanotherseat,hechoosesthechairrightnexttomethistime.Heplacesareassuringhandontopofmine.“Ihavetogointoworkforafewhours,”hesays.“I
don’twantyoutoleave.Stayhereaslongasyouneed,Lily.Just…pleasedon’tgobackhometoday.”
IshakemyheadwhenIheartheconcerninhiswords.“Iwon’t.I’llstayhere,”Itellhim.“Ipromise.”
“DoyouneedanythingbeforeIgo?”
Ishakemyhead.“I’llbefine.”
Hestandsupandgrabshisjacket.“I’llmakeitasquickasIcan.I’llbebackafterlunchandI’llbringyousomethingtoeat,okay?”
Iforceasmile.Heopensadrawerandpullsoutapenandpaper.Hewritessomethingonitbeforeheleaves.Whenhe’sgone,Istandupandwalktothecountertoreadwhathewrote.He
listedinstructionsforhowtosetthealarm.Hewrotehiscellphonenumber,eventhoughIhaveitmemorized.Healsowrotedownhisworknumber,hishomeaddress,andhisworkaddress.
Atthebottominsmallprint,hewrote,“Justkeepswimming,Lily.”
DearEllen,
Hi.It’sme.LilyBloom.Well…technicallyit’sLilyKincaidnow.
Iknowit’sbeenalongtimesinceI’vewrittentoyou.Areallylongtime.AftereverythingthathappenedwithAtlas,Ijustcouldn’tbringmyselftoopenupthejournals
again.Icouldn’tevenbringmyselftowatchyourshowafterschool,becauseithurttowatchitalone.Infact,allthoughtsofyoukindofdepressedme.WhenIthoughtofyou,Ithoughtof
Atlas.Andtobehonest,Ididn’twanttothinkofAtlas,soIhadtocutyououtofmylife,too.
I’msorryaboutthat.I’msureyoudidn’tmissmelikeImissedyou,butsometimesthethingsthatmattertoyoumostarealsothethingsthathurtyouthemost.Andin
ordertogetoverthathurt,youhavetoseveralltheextensionsthatkeepyoutetheredtothatpain.Youwereanextensionofmypain,soIguessthat’swhatIwasdoing.Iwasjusttrying
tosavemyselfalittlebitofagony.
I’msureyourshowisasgreatasever,though.Ihearyoustilldanceatthebeginningofsomeepisodes,butI’vegrowntoappreciatethat.Ithinkthat’soneofthe
biggestsignsapersonhasmatured—knowinghowtoappreciatethingsthatmattertoothers,eveniftheydon’tmatterverymuchtoyou.
Ishouldprobablycatchyouuponmylife.Myfatherdied.I’mtwenty-fournow.Igotacollegedegree,workedinmarketingforawhile,andnowIownmyownbusiness.Afloralshop.
Lifegoals,FTW!
Ialsohaveahusbandandheisn’tAtlas.
And…IliveinBoston.
Iknow.Shocker.
ThelasttimeIwrotetoyou,Iwassixteen.IwasinareallybadplaceandIwassoworriedaboutAtlas.I’mnotworriedaboutAtlasanymore,butIaminareallybadplacerightnow.
MoresothanthelasttimeIwrotetoyou.
I’msorryIdon’tseemtoneedtowritetoyouwhenI’minagoodplace.Youtendtoonlygettheshitendofmylife,butthat’swhatfriendsarefor,right?
Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.Iknowyoudon’tknowanythingaboutmycurrentlifeormyhusband,Ryle.Butthere’sthisthingwedowhereoneofussays“naked
truth,”andthenwe’reforcedtobebrutallyhonestandsaywhatwe’rereallythinking.
So…nakedtruth.
Braceyourself.
Iaminlovewithamanwhophysicallyhurtsme.Ofallpeople,IhavenoideahowIletmyselfgettothispoint.
ThereweremanytimesgrowingupIwonderedwhatwasgoingthroughmymother’sheadinthedaysaftermyfatherhadhurther.Howshecouldpossiblyloveamanwhohadlaidhishandson
her.Amanwhorepeatedlyhither.Repeatedlypromisedhewouldneverdoitagain.Repeatedlyhitheragain.
IhatethatIcanempathizewithhernow.
I’vebeensittingonAtlas’scouchforoverfourhours,wrestlingwithmyfeelings.Ican’tgetagriponthem.Ican’tunderstandthem.Idon’tknowhowto
processthem.Andtruetomypast,IrealizedthatmaybeIneedtojustgetthemoutonpaper.Myapologiestoyou,Ellen.Butgetreadyforawholelotofwordvomit.
IfIhadtocomparethisfeelingtosomething,Iwouldcompareittodeath.Notjustthedeathofanyone.Thedeathoftheone.Thepersonwhoisclosertoyouthananyoneelseinthe
wholeworld.Theonewho,whenyousimplyimaginetheirdeath,itmakesyoureyestearup.
That’swhatthisfeelslike.ItfeelslikeRylehasdied.
It’sanastronomicalamountofgrief.Anenormousamountofpain.It’sasensethatI’velostmybestfriend,mylover,myhusband,mylifeline.Butthedifferencebetween
thisfeelinganddeathisthepresenceofanotheremotionthatdoesn’tnecessarilyfollowintheeventofanactualdeath.
Hatred.
Iamsoangryathim,Ellen.Wordscan’texpresstheamountofhatredIhaveforhim.Yetsomehow,inthemidstofallmyhatred,therearewavesofreasoningthatflowthroughme.I
starttothinkthingslike“ButIshouldn’thavehadthemagnet.Ishouldhavetoldhimaboutthetattoofromthebeginning.Ishouldn’thavekeptthejournals.”
Thereasoningisthehardestpartofthis.Iteatsatme,littlebylittle,wearingdownthestrengthmyhatredlendstome.Thereasoningforcesmetoimagineourfuturetogether,andhow
therearethingsIcoulddotopreventthattypeofanger.I’llneverbetrayhimagain.I’llneverkeepsecretsfromhimagain.I’llnevergivehimreasontoreactthatwayagain.
We’llbothjusthavetoworkharderfromnowon.
Forbetter,forworse,right?
Iknowthesearethethingsthatoncewentthroughmymother’shead.Butthedifferencebetweenthetwoofusisthatshehadmoretoworryabout.Shedidn’thavethefinancial
stabilitythatIhave.Shedidn’thavetheresourcestoleaveandgivemewhatshethoughtwasadecentshelter.Shedidn’twanttotakemeawayfrommyfatherwhenIwasusedtoliving
withbothparents.Ihaveafeelingreasoningreallykickedherassatimeortwo.
Ican’tevenbegintoprocessthethoughtthatI’mhavingachildwiththisman.Thereisahumanbeinginsideofmethatwecreatedtogether.AndnomatterwhichoptionI
choose—whetherIchoosetostayorchoosetoleave—neitherarechoicesIwouldwishuponmychild.Togrowupinabrokenhomeoranabusiveone?I’vealreadyfailedthisbabyin
life,andI’veonlyknownabouthisorherexistenceforasingleday.
Ellen,Iwishyoucouldwritebacktome.Iwishthatyoucouldsaysomethingfunnytomerightnow,becausemyheartneedsit.Ihaveneverfeltthisalone.Thisbroken.Thisangry.This
hurt.
Peopleontheoutsideofsituationsliketheseoftenwonderwhythewomangoesbacktotheabuser.Ireadsomewhereoncethat85percentofwomenreturntoabusivesituations.Thatwasbefore
IrealizedIwasinone,andwhenIheardthatstatistic,Ithoughtitwasbecausethewomenwerestupid.Ithoughtitwasbecausetheywereweak.Ithoughtthesethingsaboutmyownmothermore
thanonce.
Butsometimesthereasonwomengobackissimplybecausethey’reinlove.Ilovemyhusband,Ellen.Ilovesomanythingsabouthim.Iwishcuttingmyfeelingsoffforthepersonwho
hurtmewasaseasyasIusedtothinkitwouldbe.Preventingyourheartfromforgivingsomeoneyouloveisactuallyahellofalotharderthansimplyforgivingthem.
I’mastatisticnow.ThethingsI’vethoughtaboutwomenlikemearenowwhatotherswouldthinkofmeiftheyknewmycurrentsituation.
“Howcouldshelovehimafterwhathedidtoher?Howcouldshecontemplatetakinghimback?”
It’ssadthatthosearethefirstthoughtsthatrunthroughourmindswhensomeoneisabused.Shouldn’ttherebemoredistasteinourmouthsfortheabusersthanforthosewho
continuetolovetheabusers?
Ithinkofallthepeoplewhohavebeeninthissituationbeforeme.Everyonewhowillbeinthissituationafterme.Doweallrepeatthesamewordsinourheadsinthedaysafter
experiencingabuseatthehandsofthosewholoveus?“Fromthisdayforward,forbetter,forworse,forricher,forpoorer,insicknessandhealth,untildeathdouspart.”
Maybethosevowsweren’tmeanttobetakenasliterallyassomespousestakethem.
Forbetter,forworse?
Fuck.
That.
Shit.
—LilyChapterTwenty-Six
I’mlyingonAtlas’sguestbed,staringupattheceiling.It’sanormalbed.Reallycomfortable,actually.ButitfeelslikeI’monawaterbed.Or
maybearaft,adriftatsea.AndIscaleoverthesehugewaves,eachofthemcarryingsomethingdifferent.Somearewavesofsadness.Somearewavesofanger.Somearewavesoftears.Someare
wavesofsleep.
Occasionally,I’llplacemyhandsonmystomachandatinywaveoflovewillcome.IhavenoideahowIcanalreadylovesomethingsomuch,butIdo.Ithinkaboutwhetherornot
it’llbeaboyoragirlandwhatI’llnameit.IwonderifitwilllooklikemeorRyle.Andthenanotherwaveofangerwillcomeandcrashdownonthattinywaveoflove.
Ifeelrobbedofthejoyamothershouldhavewhenshefindsoutshe’spregnant.IfeellikeRyletookthatfrommelastnightandit’sjustonemorethingIhavetohatehim
for.
Hatredisexhausting.
Iforcemyselfoffthebedandintotheshower.I’vebeeninmyroommostoftheday.AtlasreturnedhomeseveralhoursagoandIheardhimopenthedooratonepointtocheckonmebutI
pretendedtobeasleep.
Ifeelawkwardbeinghere.AtlasistheveryreasonRylewasangryatmelastnight,yethe’stheoneIrantowhenIneededhelp?Beingherefillsmewithguilt.Maybeevenalittlebit
ofshame,asthoughmycallingAtlaslendscredibilitytoRyle’sanger.Butthere’sliterallynowhereIcangorightnow.IneedacoupleofdaystoprocessthingsandifIgotoa
hotel,Rylecouldtrackthecreditcardchargeandfindme.
He’dbeabletofindmeatmymother’s.AtAllysa’s.AtLucy’s.He’sevenmetDevinacoupleoftimesandwouldmorethanlikelygothere,too.
Ican’tseehimtrackingdownAtlas,though.Yet.I’msureifIgoaweekavoidinghiscallsandtexts,he’lllookeverywherehecanpossiblylooktofindme.Butfornow,I
don’tthinkhewouldshowuphere.
Maybethat’swhyI’mhere.IfeelsaferherethananywhereelseIcouldpossiblygo.AndAtlashasanalarmsystem,sothere’sthat.
Iglanceatthenightstandtolookatmyphone.IskipoverallthemissedtextsfromRyleandopentheonefromAllysa.
Allysa:Hey,AuntLily!They’resendingushometonight.Comeseeustomorrowwhenyougethomefromwork.
ShesentapictureofherandRylee,anditmakesmesmile.Thencry.Damntheseemotions.
IwaituntilmyeyesaredryagainbeforeIwalkintothelivingroom.Atlasissittingathiskitchentable,workingonhislaptop.Whenhelooksupatme,hesmilesandclosesit.
“Hey.”
Iforceasmileandthenlookinthekitchen.“Doyouhaveanythingtoeat?”
Atlasstandsupquickly.“Yeah,”hesays.“Yeah,sitdown.I’llgetsomethingreadyforyou.”
Itakeaseatonthecouchasheworkshiswayaroundthekitchen.Thetelevisionison,butit’smuted.IunmuteitandclickontheDVR.Hehasafewshowsrecorded,buttheonethat
catchesmyeyeisTheEllenDeGeneresShow.IsmileandclickonthemostrecentunwatchedepisodeandhitPlay.
Atlasbringsmeabowlofpastaandaglassoficewater.HeglancesattheTVandthensitsdownnexttomeonthecouch.
Forthenextthreehours,wewatchafullweek’sworthofepisodes.Ilaughoutloudsixtimes.Itfeelsgood,butwhenItakeabathroombreakandcomebacktothelivingroom,theweight
ofitallstartstosinkinagain.
IsitbackdownonthecouchnexttoAtlas.He’sleaningbackwithhisfeetproppeduponthecoffeetable.Inaturallyleanintohimandjustlikeheusedtodowhenwewereteenagers,he
pullsmeagainsthischestandwejustsitthereinsilence.Histhumbbrushestheoutsideofmyshoulder,andIknowit’shisunspokenwayofsayinghe’shereforme.Thathefeelsbad
forme.Andforthefirsttimesincehepickedmeuplastnight,Ifeelliketalkingaboutit.Myheadisrestingagainsthisshoulderandmyhandsareinmylap.I’mfidgetingwiththe
drawstringonthepantsthatarewaytoobigforme.
“Atlas?”Isay,myvoicebarelyawhisper.“I’msorryIgotsoangryatyouthatnightattherestaurant.Youwereright.DeepdownIknewyouwereright,butI
didn’twanttobelieveit.”Iliftmyheadandlookathim,crackingapitifulsmile.“Youcansay,‘Itoldyouso’now.”
Hiseyebrowsdrawtogether,likemywordssomehowhurthim.“Lily,thisisnotsomethingIwantedtoberightabout.IprayedeverydaythatIwaswrongabouthim.”
Iwince.Ishouldn’thavesaidthattohim.IknowbetterthantothinkAtlaswouldeverthinksomethinglikeItoldyouso.Hesqueezesmyshoulderandleansforward,kissingthe
topofmyhead.IclosemyeyesasIsoakupthefamiliarityofhim.Hissmell,histouch,hiscomfort.I’veneverunderstoodhowsomeonecanbesorocksolid,yetcomforting.But
that’salwayshowI’veviewedhim.Likehecouldwithstandanything,butsomehowstillfeelstheweightthateveryoneelsecarries.
Idon’tlikethatIwasneverfullyabletoletgoofhim,nomatterhowhardItried.IthinkaboutthefightwithRyleoverAtlas’sphonenumber.Thefightaboutthemagnet,the
article,thethingshereadinmyjournal,thetattoo.NoneofthatwouldhavehappenedifIwouldhavejustletgoofAtlasandthrownitallaway.Rylewouldn’thavehadanythingtobeso
upsetwithmeabout.
Ipullmyhandsuptomyfaceafterthatthought,upsetthatthere’sapartofmetryingtoblameRyle’sreactiononmylackofclosurewithAtlas.
There’snoexcuse.None.
ThisisjustanotherwaveI’mbeingforcedtorideon.Awaveofcompleteandutterconfusion.
Atlascanfeelthechangeinmycomposure.“Youokay?”
I’mnot.
I’mnotokay,becauseuntilthismoment,IhadnoideahowhurtIstillamthathenevercamebackforme.Ifhe’dhavejustcomebackformelikehepromised,Iwouldhavenever
evenmetRyle.AndIwouldhaveneverbeeninthissituation.
Yep.I’mdefinitelyconfused.HowamIpossiblylendingblametoAtlasforanyofthis?
“IthinkIneedtocallitanight,”Isayquietly,pullingawayfromhim.IstandupandAtlasstandsup,too.
“I’llbegonemostofthedaytomorrow,”hesays.“WillyoubeherewhenIgethome?”
Icringeathisquestion.Ofcoursehewantsmetogetmyshittogetherandfindanotherplacetostay.WhatamIevenstilldoinghere?“No.No,Icangetahotel,it’sfine.”
Iturntowalktowardthehallway,butheputsahandonmyshoulder.
“Lily,”hesays,turningmearound.“Iwasn’taskingyoutoleave.Iwasjustmakingsureyou’dstillbehere.Iwantyoutostayaslongasyouneedto.”
Hiseyesaresincere,andifIdidn’tthinkitwouldbealittleinappropriate,Iwouldthrowmyarmsaroundhimandhughim.BecauseI’mnotreadytoleaveyet.Justacouplemore
daysbeforeI’mforcedtofigureoutwhatmynextstepis.
Inod.“Ineedtogointoworkforafewhourstomorrow,”Itellhim.“TherearesomethingsIneedtotakecareof.Butifyoureallydon’tmind,I’dliketostay
hereforafewmoredays.”
“Idon’tmind,Lily.I’dpreferit.”
Iforceasmileandthenheadtotheguestbedroom.Atleasthe’sgivingmeabufferbeforeI’mforcedtoconfronteverything.
Asmuchashispresenceinmylifeconfusesmerightnow,I’veneverbeenmorethankfulforhim.ChapterTwenty-Seven
MyhandistremblingwhenIreachforthedoorknob.I’veneveroncebeenscaredtowalkintomyownbusinessbefore,butI’vealsoneverbeenthisonedge
ThebuildingisdarkwhenIenterit,soIfliponthelights,holdingmybreath.Iwalkslowlytomyoffice,pushingthedooropenwithcaution.
He’snowhere,yethe’severywhere.
WhenItakeaseatatmydesk,IturnonmyphoneforthefirsttimesinceIwenttobedlastnight.Iwantedagoodnight’ssleepwithouthavingtoworryaboutwhetherornotRylewas
tryingtocontactme.
Whenitpowerson,Ihavetwenty-ninemissedtextsfromRyle.ItjustsohappenstobethesamenumberofdoorsRyleknockedontofindmyapartmentlastyear.
Idon’tknowwhethertolaughorcryattheirony.
Ispendtherestofthedaylikethis.Glancingovermyshoulder,lookingupatthedooreverytimeitopens.Iwonderifhe’sruinedme.Ifthefearofhimwilleverleaveme.
HalfadaygoesbywithoutasinglephonecallfromhimwhileIcatchuponpaperwork.AllysacallsmeafterlunchandIcantellbyhervoicethatshehasnoideaaboutthefightRyleandI
had.IlethertalkaboutthebabyforawhilebeforeIpretendIhaveacustomerandhangup.
IplanonleavingwhenLucyreturnsfromherlunchbreak.Shehashalfanhourleft.
Rylewalksthroughthefrontdoorthreeminuteslater.
I’mtheonlyonehere.
AssoonasIseehim,Iturnstonecold.I’mstandingbehindthecounter,myhandonthecashregisterbecauseit’sclosetothestapler.I’msureastaplercouldn’tdo
muchharmagainstthearmsofaneurosurgeon,butI’llusewhatIhave.
Heslowlymakeshiswaytothecounter.It’sthefirsttimeI’veseenhimsincehewasontopofmeonourbedtheothernight.Mywholebodyisimmediatelytakenbacktothat
moment,andI’mengulfedinthesamelevelofemotionsasIwasinthatmoment.Bothfearandangerrushthroughmewhenhereachesthecounter.
Heliftshishandandplacesasetofkeysonthecounterinfrontofme.Myeyesfalltothekeys.
“I’mleavingforEnglandtonight,”hesays.“I’llbegoneforthreemonths.Ipaidallthebillssoyouwon’thavetoworryaboutitwhileI’m
gone.”
HisvoiceiscomposedbutIcanseetheveinsinhisneckastheyprovehiscomposureistakingalltheefforthehas.“Youneedtime.”Heswallowshard.“AndIwanttogive
thattoyou.”Hegrimacesandpushesthekeystomyapartmenttowardme.“Gobackhome,Lily.Iwon’tbethere.Ipromise.”
Heturnsandbeginswalkingtowardthedoor.Itoccurstomethathedidn’teventrytoapologize.I’mnotangryaboutit.Iunderstandit.Heknowsthatanapologywillnevertake
backwhathedid.Heknowsthatthebestthingforusrightnowisseparation.
Heknowswhatahugemistakehemade…yetIstillfeeltheneedtodigthatknifeinalittledeeper.
“Ryle.”
Helooksbackatmeandit’sasifheputsashieldupbetweenus.Hedoesn’tturnallthewayaroundandhe’sstiffashewaitsforwhateverI’mabouttosay.Heknows
mywordsaregoingtohurthim.
“Youknowwhattheworstpartaboutthiswholethingis?”Iask.
Hedoesn’tsayanything.Hejuststaresatme,waitingformyanswer.
“Allyouhadtodowhenyoufoundmyjournalwasaskmeforanakedtruth.Iwouldhavebeenhonestwithyou.Butyoudidn’t.Youchosetonotaskformyhelpandnowwe’ll
bothhavetosuffertheconsequencesofyouractionsfortherestofourlives.”
Hegrimaceswitheveryword.“Lily,”hesays,turningtowardme.
Iholdupmyhandtostophimfromsayinganythingelse.“Don’t.Youcanleavenow.HavefuninEngland.”
Icanseethewarwaginginsideofhim.Heknowshecan’tgetanywherewithmeinthismoment,nomatterhowhardhewantstobegformyforgiveness.Heknowstheonlychoicehehasisto
turnandwalkoutthatdoor,eventhoughit’sthelastthinghewantstodo.
Whenhefinallyforceshimselfoutthedoor,Irunandlockit.Islidedowntothefloorandhugmyknees,buryingmyfaceagainstthem.I’mshakingsohard,Icanfeelmyteeth
chatter.
Ican’tbelievepartofthatmanisgrowinginsideme.AndIcan’tbelieveI’llonedayhavetoadmitthattohim.ChapterTwenty-Eight
AfterRyleleftmehiskeysthisafternoon;Idebatedgoingbacktoournewapartment.Ievenhadacabpulluptothebuilding,butIcouldn’tforcemyselfoutofthe
car.IknewifIwentbacktheretoday,I’dprobablyseeAllysaatsomepoint.I’mnotreadytoexplainthestitchesonmyforeheadtoher.I’mnotreadytoseethekitchenwhere

Soinsteadofreturningtomyownhome,ItookthecabbacktoAtlas’shouse.Itfeelslikemyonlysafezonerightnow.Idon’thavetoconfrontthingswhenI’mhidingout
here.
Atlashasalreadytextedmetwicetodaycheckingonme,sowhenIgetatextafewminutesbeforeseveno’clockintheevening,Iassumeit’sfromhim.It’snot;it’s
fromAllysa.
Allysa:Youhomefromworkyet?Comeupandvisitus,I’malreadybored.
MyheartsinkswhenIreadhertext.ShehasnoideawhathappenedbetweenmeandRyle.IwonderifRyleeventoldherheleftforEnglandtoday.Mythumbtypesanderasesandtypessomemoreas
ItrytocomeupwithagoodexcuseastowhyI’mnotthere.
Me:Ican’t.I’mintheemergencyroom.Hitmyheadonthatshelfinthestorageroomatwork.Gettingstitches.
IhatethatIliedtoher,butit’llsavemefromhavingtoexplainthecutandalsowhyI’mnothomerightnow.
Allysa:Ohno!Areyoualone?MarshallcancomesitwithyousinceRyleisgone.
Okay,sosheknowsRyleleftforEngland.That’sgood.Andshethinkswe’refine.Thisisgood.ThatmeansIhaveatleastthreemonthsbeforeIhavetotellherthetruth.
Lookatme,sweepingshitundertherugjustlikemymother.
Me:No,I’mfine.I’llbefinishedupbythetimeMarshallcouldevengethere.I’llcomebytomorrowafterwork.GiveRyleeakissforme.
Ilockthescreenonmyphoneandsetitonmybed.It’sdarkoutsidenow,soIimmediatelyseethescrolloftheheadlightsassomeonepullsintothedriveway.Iinstantlyknowthatit
isn’tAtlas,becauseheusesthedrivewaytothesideofthehouseandparksinthegarage.Myheartbeginstoraceasfearrushesthroughme.IsitRyle?DidhefindoutwhereAtlas
lives?
Momentslater,there’saloudknockatthefrontdoor.Morelikepounding.Thedoorbellalsorings.
Itiptoetothewindowandbarelymovethecurtainsoverfarenoughtotakealookoutside.Ican’tseewho’satthedoor,butthere’satruckinthedriveway.Itdoesn’t
belongtoRyle.
CoulditbeAtlas’sgirlfriend?Cassie?
Igrabmyphoneandmakemywaydownthehallway,towardthelivingroom.Thepoundingonthedoorandthechimeofthedoorbellarestillgoingoffsimultaneously.Whoeverisatthedooris
beingridiculouslyimpatient.IfitisCassie,Ialreadyfindherextremelyannoying.
“Atlas!”aguyyells.“Openthedamndoor!”
Anothervoice—alsomale—yells,“Myballsarefreezingup!They’reraisins,man,openthedoor!”
BeforeIopenthedoorandletthemknowAtlasisn’thome,Itexthim,hopinghe’sabouttopullinthedrivewayanddealwiththishimself.
Me:Whereareyou?TherearetwomenatyourfrontdoorandIhavenoideaifIshouldletthemin.
Iwaitthroughmorepressesofthedoorbellandmorepounding,butAtlasdoesn’timmediatelytextmeback.Ifinallywalktothedoorandleavethechainbolted,butunlockthedeadbolt
andopenthedoorafewinches.
Oneoftheguysistall,aboutsixfeetorso.Despitetheyouthfullooktohisface,hishairissaltandpepper.Blackwithalittlebitofgraysprinkledin.Theotheroneisshorterbyafew
inches,withsandybrownhairandababyface.Theybothlooktobeintheirlatetwenties,maybeearlythirties.Thetallone’sfacetwistsintoconfusion.“Whoareyou?”he
asks,peekingthroughthedoor.
“Lily.Whoareyou?”
Theshorteronepushesinfrontofthetallerone.“IsAtlashere?”
Idon’twanttotellthemno,becausethenthey’llknowI’mherealone.Idon’tnecessarilyholdmuchtrustinthemalepopulationthisweek.
Thephoneinmyhandringsandallthreeofusjumpfromtheunexpectednessofit.It’sAtlas.Iswipetheanswerbuttonandbringittomyear.
“Hello?”
“It’sfine,Lily,they’rejustfriendsofmine.IforgotitwasFriday,wealwaysplaypokeronFridays.I’llcallthemnowandtellthemtoleave.”
Ilookbackatthetwoofthemandthey’rejuststandingthere,watchingme.IfeelbadthatAtlasfeelslikehehastocancelhisplansjustbecauseI’mcrashingathishouse.I
shutthedoorandunlockthedeadbolt,thenopenthedooragain,motioningtheminside.
“It’sfine,Atlas.Youdon’thavetocancelyourplans.Iwasabouttogotobedanyway.”
“No,I’monmyway.I’llhavethemleave.”
Istillhavethephonepressedtomyearwhenthetwomenenterthelivingroom.
“Seeyousoon,”IsaytoAtlasandthenendthecall.ThenextfewsecondsareawkwardastheguysassessmeandIassessthem.
“Whatareyournames?”
“I’mDarin,”thetallonesays.
“Brad,”theshorteronesays.
“Lily,”Isaytothem,eventhoughIalreadytoldthemmyname.“Atlaswillbeheresoon.”Imovetoclosethedoorandtheyseemtorelaxalittle.Darinheadsintothe
kitchenandhelpshimselftoAtlas’srefrigerator.
Bradtakesoffhisjacketandhangsitup.“Doyouknowhowtoplaypoker,Lily?”
Ishrug.“It’sbeenafewyears,butIusedtoplaywithfriendsincollege.”
Bothofthemwalktowardthediningroomtable.
“Whathappenedtoyourhead?”Darinasksashetakesaseat.Heasksitsocasually,likeitdoesn’tevencrosshismindthatitmightbeasensitivesubject.
Idon’tknowwhyIhaveanurgetogivehimthenakedtruth.MaybeIjustwanttoseehowsomeonewillreactwhentheyfindoutmyownhusbanddidthistome.
“Myhusbandhappened.Wegotintoafighttwonightsagoandhehead-buttedme.Atlastookmetotheemergencyroom.TheygavemesixstitchesandtoldmeIwaspregnant.NowI’m
hidingouthereuntilIfigureoutwhattodo.”
PoorDarinisfrozen,halfwaybetweenstandingandsitting.Hehasnoideahowtorespondtothat.Basedonthelookonhisface,Ithinkhe’sconvincedI’mcrazy.
Bradpullsouthischairandtakesaseat,pointingatme.“YoushouldgetsomeRodanandFields.Theamprollerworkswondersforscarring.”
Iimmediatelylaughathisrandomresponse.Somehow.
“Jesus,Brad!”Darinsays,finallysinkingintohisseat.“You’reworsethanyourwifewiththisdirectsalesshit.You’relikeawalkinginfomercial.”
Bradraiseshishandsindefense.“What?”hesaysinnocently.“I’mnottryingtosellheranything,I’mbeinghonest.Thestuffworks.You’dknowthatif
you’duseitonyourdamnacne.”
“Screwyou,”Darinsays.
“It’slikeyou’retryingtobeaperpetualteenager,”Bradmutters.“Acneisn’tcoolwhenyou’rethirty.”
BradpullsoutthechairnexttohimwhileDarinbeginsshufflingadeckofcards.“Haveaseat,Lily.Oneofourfriendsdecidedtobeanidiotandgetmarriedlastweek,andnowhiswife
won’tlethimcometopokernightanymore.Youcanbehisfill-inuntilhegetsadivorce.”
Ihadeveryintentionofhidingoutinmyroomtonight,butthesetwomakeithardtowalkaway.ItakeaseatnexttoBradandreachacrossthetable.“Handmethose,”Isayto
Darin.He’sshufflingthecardslikeaone-armedinfant.
Heraisesaneyebrowandpushesthedeckofcardsacrossthetable.Idon’tknowmuchaboutcardgames,butIcanshufflecardslikeapro.
Iseparatethecardsintotwopilesandscootthemtogether,pressingmythumbstotheends,watchingastheybeautifullyintertwine.DarinandBradarestaringatthedeckofcards,when
there’sanotherknockonthedoor.Thistimethedoorswingsopenwithoutpauseandaguywalksindressedinwhatlookslikeaveryexpensivetweedjacket.There’sascarfwrapped
aroundhisneck,andhebeginstounwinditassoonasheslamsthedoorbehindhim.Henudgeshisheadinmydirectionashewalkstowardthekitchen.“Whoareyou?”
He’solderthantheothertwo,probablyinhismid-forties.
Atlasdefinitelyhasaninterestingmixoffriends.
“ThisisLily,”Bradsays.“She’smarriedtoanassholeandjustfoundoutshe’spregnantwiththeasshole’sbaby.Lily,thisisJimmy.He’spompousand
arrogant.”
“Pompousandarrogantarethesamething,idiot,”Jimmysays.HepullsoutthechairnexttoDarinandnudgeshisheadatthecardsinmyhands.“DidAtlasplantyouhereto
hustleus?Whatkindofaveragepersonknowshowtoshufflecardslikethat?”
Ismileandbegintopasscardsouttoeachofthem.“Iguesswe’llhavetoplayaroundtofindout.”
???
We’reonourthirdroundofbetswhenAtlasfinallywalksin.Heclosesthedoorbehindhimandlooksaroundatthefourofus.Bradsaidsomethingfunnyrightbefore
Atlasopenedthedoor,soI’minthemiddleofafitoflaughterwhenAtlaslockseyeswithme.Henodshisheadtowardthekitchenandbeginswalkinginthatdirection.
“Fold,”Isay,layingmycardsflatonthetableasIstanduptofollowhim.WhenIgettothekitchen,he’sstandingwhereheisn’tvisibletotheguysatthetable.I
walkovertohimandleanagainstthecounter.
“Youwantmetoaskthemtoleave?”
Ishakemyhead.“No,don’tdothat.I’mactuallyenjoyingit.It’skeepingmymindoffthings.”
HenodsandIcan’thelpbutnoticehowhesmellslikeherbs.Rosemary,specifically.ItmakesmewishIcouldseehiminactionathisrestaurant.
“Youhungry?”heasks.
Ishakemyhead.“Notreally.Iatesomeleftoverpastaacouplehoursago.”
Myhandsarepressedintothecounteroneithersideofme.Hetakesastepcloserandputsoneofhishandsovermine,brushinghisthumbacrossthetopofit.Iknowhedoesn’tmeanfor
ittobeanythingmorethanacomfortinggesture,butwhenhetouchesme,itfeelslikeawholelotmore.ArushofwarmthmovesupmychestandIimmediatelydropmyeyestoourhands.Atlas
pauseshisthumbforasecond,likehefeelsit,too.Hepullshishandawayandbacksupastep.
“Sorry,”hemutters,turningtowardtherefrigerator,pretendingtolookforsomething.It’sobvioushe’stryingtosparemefromtheawkwardnessofwhatjust
happened.
Iwalkbacktothetableandpickupmycardsforthenextround.Acoupleofminuteslater,Atlaswalksoverandtakestheseatnexttome.Jimmyshufflesoutaroundofnewcardstoeveryone.
“So,Atlas.HowdoyouandLilyknoweachother?”
Atlaspicksuphiscardsoneatatime.“Lilysavedmylifewhenwewerekids,”hesays,matter-of-fact.Heglancesoveratmeandwinks,andIdrowninguiltforthewaythatwink
makesmefeel.Especiallyatatimelikethis.Whyismyheartdoingthistome?
“Aw,that’ssweet,”Bradsays.“Lilysavedyourlife,nowyou’resavinghers.”
AtlaslowershiscardsandglaresatBrad.“Excuseme?”
“Relax,”Bradsays.“MeandLilyaretight,sheknowsI’mkidding.”Bradlooksatme.“Yourlifemightbecompletecraprightnow,Lily,butit’llget
better.Trustme,I’vebeenthere.”
Darinlaughs.“You’vebeenbeatupandpregnantandhidingoutatanotherman’shouse?”hesaystoBrad.
Atlasslapshiscardsonthetableandpushesbackinhischair.“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”heyellsatDarin.
Ireachoverandsqueezehisarmreassuringly.“Relax,”Isay.“Webondedbeforeyougothere.Iactuallydon’tmindthatthey’remakinglightofmysituation.It
reallydoesmakeitalittlelessheavy.”
Herunsafrustratedhandthroughhishair,shakinghishead.“I’msoconfused,”hesays.“Youwerealonewiththemfortenminutes.”
Ilaugh.“Youcanlearnalotaboutsomeoneintenminutes.”Itrytoredirecttheconversation.“Sohowdoyouallknoweachother?”
Darinleansforwardandpointsathimself.“I’mthesouschefatBib’s.”HepointsatBrad.“He’sthedishwasher.”
“Fornow,”Bradinterjects.“I’mworkingmywayup.”
“Whataboutyou?”IsaytoJimmy.
Hesmirksandsays,“Takeaguess.”
Basedonthewayhedressesandthefactthathe’sbeencalledarrogantandpompous,I’dhavetoassume…“Ma?tred’?”
Atlaslaughs.“Jimmyactuallyworksinvalet.”
IglancebackatJimmyandraiseaneyebrow.Hetossesthreepokerchipsdownandsays,“It’strue.Iparkcarsfortips.”
“Don’tlethimfoolyou,”Atlassays.“Heworksinvalet,butonlybecausehe’ssorichhegetsbored.”
Ismile.ItremindsmeofAllysa.“Ihaveanemployeelikethat.Onlyworksbecauseshe’sbored.She’sactuallythebestemployeeIhave.”
“Damnstraight,”Jimmymutters.
Itakealookatmycardswhenit’smyturnandtossinthethreepokerchips.Atlas’sphoneringsandhepullsitoutofhispocket.I’mraisingthepotwithanotherchipwhen
heexcuseshimselffromthetabletotakethecall
“Fold,”Bradsays,slappinghiscardsonthetable.
I’mwatchingthehallwayAtlasjustdisappeareddowninahurry.Itmakesmewonderifhe’stalkingtoCassie,orifthere’ssomeoneelseinhislife.Iknowwhathedoesfora
living.Iknowhehasatleastthreefriends.Ijustknownothingabouthislovelife.
Darinlayshiscardsonthetable.Fourofakind.IlaydownmystraightflushandreachforwardforallthepokerchipsasDaringroans.
“SodoesCassienotusuallycometopokernight?”Iask,fishingformoreinformationonAtlas.InformationI’mtooscaredtoaskhimmyself.
“Cassie?”Bradsays.
Istackmywinningsupinfrontofmeandnod.“Isn’tthathisgirlfriend’sname?”
Darinlaughs.“Atlasdoesn’thaveagirlfriend.I’veknownhimfortwoyearsandhe’snevermentionedanyonenamedCassie.”Hebeginspassingoutnewcards,but
I’mtryingtoabsorbtheinformationhejustgaveme.IpickupmyfirsttwocardswhenAtlaswalksbackintotheroom.
“Hey,Atlas,”Jimmysays.“WhothehellisCassieandhowcomewe’veneverheardyoutalkabouther?”
Oh,shit.
I’mcompletelymortified.ItightenmygriparoundthecardsinmyhandsandtrytoavoidlookingupatAtlas,buttheroomgrowssoquiet,itwouldbemoreobviousifI
didn’tlookathim.
He’sstaringatJimmy.Jimmyisstaringathim.BradandDarinarestaringatme.
Atlasfoldshislipstogetherforamomentandthensays,“ThereisnoCassie.”Hiseyesmeetmine,butonlyforabriefsecond.Butinthatbriefsecond,Icanseeitwrittenall
overhisface.
ThereneverwasaCassie.
Heliedtome.
Atlasclearshisthroatandthensays,“Listen,guys.Ishouldhavecancelledtonight.Thisweekhasbeenkindof…”HerubshishandoverhismouthandJimmy
standsup.
HesqueezesAtlasontheshoulderandsays,“Nextweek.Myplace.”
Atlasnodsappreciatively.Thethreeofthembegintogathertheircardsandpokerchips.BradpriesmycardsfrommyfingersapologeticallybecauseI’munabletomoveasIclutchthem
tightly.
“Itwaslovelymeetingyou,Lily,”Bradsays.Isomehowfindthestrengthtosmileandstandup.Igivethemallhugsgoodbyeandafterthefrontdoorclosesbehindthem,it’s
justmeandAtlasintheroom.
AndnoCassie.
Cassie’sneverevenbeeninthisroom,becauseCassiedoesn’texist.
Whatthehell?
Atlashasn’tmovedfromhisspotnearthetable.NeitherhaveI.He’sstandingfirmwithhisarmsfoldedacrosshischest.Hisheadisslightlytilteddownbuthiseyesareboring
intomefromacrossthetable.
Whywouldhelietome?
RyleandIweren’tevenanofficialcoupleyetwhenIranintoAtlasatthatrestaurantthefirsttime.Hell,ifAtlashadgivenmeanyreasontobelievetherewasachancebetweenusthat
night,IknowwithoutadoubtthatIwouldhavechosenhimoverRyle.IbarelyevenknewRyleatthatpoint.
ButAtlasdidn’tsayanything.Heliedtomeandtoldmehe’dbeeninarelationshipforanentireyear.Why?Whywouldhedothatunlesshedidn’twantmetothinkIhada
chancewithhim?
MaybeI’vebeenwrongallthistime.MaybeheneverevenlovedmetobeginwithandheknewthatinventingthisCassiepersonwouldkeepmeawayfromhimforgood.
Yet,hereIam.Crashingathishouse.Interactingwithhisfriends.Eatinghisfood.Usinghisshower.
IcanfeelthetearsbegintostingmyeyesandthelastthingIwantistostandinfrontofhimandcryrightnow.Iwalkaroundthetableandrushpasthim.Idon’tmakeitfarwhenhe
grabsmyhand.“Wait.”
Istop,stillfacingtheotherdirection.
“Talktome,Lily.”
He’srightbehindmenow,hishandstillwrappedaroundmine.Ipullitawayfromhimandwalktotheothersideofthelivingroom.
Ispinandfacehimjustasthefirsttearrollsdownmycheek.“Whydidyounevercomebackforme?”
HelookedpreparedforanythingtocomeoutofmymouthotherthanthewordsIjustspoketohim.Herunsahandthroughhishairandwalkstothecouch,takingaseat.Afterblowingouta
calmingbreath,hecarefullylooksoveratme.
“Idid,Lily.”
Idon’tallowairtomoveinoroutofmylungs.
Istandcompletelystill,processinghisanswer.
Hecamebackforme?
Hefoldshishandstogetherinfrontofhim.“WhenIgotoutoftheMarinesthefirsttime,IwentbacktoMaine,hopingtofindyou.Iaskedaroundandfoundoutwhichcollegeyouwent
to.Iwasn’tsurewhattoexpectwhenIshowedup,becauseweweretwodifferentpeoplebythen.Ithadbeenfouryearssincewesaweachother.Iknewalotaboutbothofushadprobably
changedinthosefouryears.”
Mykneesfeelweak,soIwalktothechairnexttohimandlowermyself.Hecamebackforme?
“Iwalkedaroundyourcampusthewholedaylookingforyou.Finally,latethatafternoon,Isawyou.Youweresittinginthecourtyardwithagroupofyourfriends.Iwatchedyoufora
longtime,tryingtoworkupthecouragetowalkovertoyou.Youwerelaughing.Youlookedhappy.YouwerevibrantlikeI’dneverseenyoubefore.Ihadneverfeltthatkindofhappinessfor
anotherpersonlikeIfeltwhenIsawyouthatday.Justknowingyouwereokay…”
Hepausesforamoment.Myhandsareclenchedaroundmystomach,becauseithurts.IthurtsknowingIwassoclosetohimandIdidn’tevenknow.
“Ibeganwalkingtowardyouwhensomeonecameupbehindyou.Aguy.Hedroppedtohiskneesnexttoyouandwhenyousawhim,yousmiledandthrewyourarmsaroundhim.Thenyoukissed
him.”
Iclosemyeyes.HewasjustaboyIdatedforsixmonths.HeneverevenmademefeelafractionofwhatIhadfeltforAtlas.
Heblowsoutasharpbreath.“Ileftafterthat.WhenIsawthatyouwerehappy,itwastheworstandbestfeelingapersoncouldeverhaveatonce.ButIbelievedatthatpointthatmy
lifewasstillnotgoodenoughforyou.Ihadnothingtoofferyoubutlove,andtome,youdeservedmorethanthat.ThenextdayIsignedupforanothertourintheMarines.And
now…”Hetosseshishanduplazilyintheair,likenothingabouthislifeisimpressive
Iburymyheadinmyhandstotakeamoment.Iquietlygrievewhatcouldhavebeen.Whatis.Whatwasn’t.Myfingersmovetothetattooonmyshoulder.IbegintowonderifI’llever
beabletofillinthatholenow.
ItmakesmewonderifAtlaseverfeelslikeIfeltwhenIgotthistattoo.Likealltheairisbeingletoutofhisheart.
Istilldon’tunderstandwhyheliedtomeafterrunningintomeathisrestaurant.IfhereallyfeltthethingsIfeltforhim,whywouldhemakesomethinglikethatup?
“Whydidyoulieabouthavingagirlfriend?”
HerubsahandoverhisfaceandIcanalreadyseetheregretbeforeIevenhearitinhisvoice.“Isaidthatbecause…youlookedhappythatnight.WhenIsawyou
tellinghimgoodbye,ithurtlikehell,butatthesametimeIwasrelievedthatyouseemedtobeinareallygoodplace.Ididn’twantyoutoworryaboutme.AndIdon’t
know…maybeIwasalittlejealous.Idon’tknow,Lily.IregrettedlyingtoyouassoonasIdidit.”
Myhandgoestomymouth.Mymindstartstoracejustasfastasmyheartisracing.Iinstantlystartthinkingaboutthewhat-ifs.Whatifhewouldhavebeenhonestwithme?Toldmehow
he’dfelt?Wherewouldwebenow?
Iwanttoaskhimwhyhedidit.Whyhedidn’tfightforme.ButIdon’thavetoaskhim,becauseIalreadyknowtheanswer.HethoughthewasgivingmewhatIwanted,becauseall
he’severwantedformewashappiness.Andforsomestupidreason,he’sneverfeltIcouldgetthatwithhim.
ConsiderateAtlas.
ThemoreIthinkaboutit,themoredifficultitbecomestobreathe.IthinkaboutAtlas.Ryle.Tonight.Twonightsago.It’stoomuch.
Istandupandmakemywaybacktotheguestbedroom.Ipickupmyphoneandgrabmypurseandgobacktothelivingroom.Atlashasn’tmoved.
“RyleleftforEnglandtoday,”Isay.“IthinkIshouldprobablygohomenow.Canyoudriveme?”
Asadnessentershiseyesandwhenitdoes,Iknowthatleavingistherightthingtodo.Neitherofushasclosure.I’mnotsurewe’llevergetit.I’mbeginningtothink
closureisamyth,andbeinghererightnowwhileI’mstillprocessingeverythingthat’shappeningtomylifeisjustgoingtomakethingsworseforme.Ihavetoeliminateasmuch
confusionaspossible,andrightnow,myfeelingsforAtlastopthelistofmostconfusing.
Hepresseshislipstightlytogetherforamoment,andthenhenodsandgrabshiskeys.
???
Neitherofusspeakstheentiredrivetomyapartment.Hedoesn’tdropmeoff.Hepullsintotheparkinglotandgetsoutofhiscar.“I’dfeelbetterifyou
letmewalkyouup,”hesays.
Inodandwewadethroughevenmoresilenceasweridetheelevatoruptotheseventhfloor.Hefollowsmeallthewaytomyapartment.Ifisharoundinmypurseforthekeysanddon’t
evenrealizemyhandsareshakinguntilmythirdfailedattempttoopenthedoor.AtlascalmlytakesthekeysfrommeandIstepasideasheopensthedoorforme.
“Doyouwantmetomakesurenoone’shere?”heasks.
Inod.IknowRyleisn’therebecausehe’sonhiswaytoEngland,butI’mhonestlystillalittlescaredtowalkintotheapartmentbymyself.
Atlaswalksinbeforemeandflipsonthelights.Hecontinueswalkingthroughtheapartment,flippingonallthelightsandwalkingintoeachoftherooms.Whenhemakesitbacktotheliving
room,heslideshishandsinhisjacketpockets.Hetakesadeepbreathandthensays,“Idon’tknowwhathappensnext,Lily.”
Hedoes.Heknows.Hejustdoesn’twantittohappen,becausewebothknowhowmuchithurtstosaygoodbyetoeachother.
Ilookawayfromhimbecauseseeingthelookonhisfacerightnowcutsstraighttomyheart.Ifoldmyarmsovermychestandstareatthefloor.“Ihavealottoworkthrough,Atlas.
Alot.AndI’mscaredIwon’tbeabletodoitwithyouinmylife.”Iliftmyeyesbacktohis.“Ihopeyoudon’ttakeoffensetothat,becauseifanything,
it’sacompliment.”
Heregardsmesilentlyforamoment,notatallsurprisedbywhatI’msaying.ButIcanseethere’ssomuchhewantstosay.There’salotIwishIcouldsaytohim,too,but
webothknowdiscussingthetwoofusisn’tappropriateatthispoint.I’mmarried.I’mpregnantwithanotherman’sbaby.Andhe’sstandinginthelivingroomofan
apartmentthatanothermanboughtforme.I’dsaythesearen’tverygoodconditionsinwhichtobringupallthethingsweshouldhavesaidtoeachotheralongtimeago.
Helooksatthedoormomentarilyasifhe’stryingtodecidetoleaveorspeak.Icanseethetwitchinhisjawrightbeforehelockseyeswithme.“Ifyoueverneedme,Iwantyou
tocallme,”hesays.“Butonlyifit’sanemergency.I’mnotcapableofbeingcasualwithyou,Lily.”
I’mtakenabackbyhiswords,butonlymomentarily.AsmuchasIwasn’texpectinghimtoadmitit,he’sabsolutelyright.Sincethedaywemet,therehasbeennothingcasual
aboutourrelationship.It’seitherallinornotinatall.That’swhyheseparatedtieswhenheleftforthemilitary.Heknewthatacasualfriendshipwouldneverworkbetweenus.It
wouldhavebeentoopainful.
Apparently,thathasn’tchanged.
“Goodbye,Atlas.”
SayingthosewordsagaintearsmeupalmostasmuchasthefirsttimeIhadtosaythem.Hewincesandthenturnsandwalkstothedoorlikehecan’tleavefastenough.Whenthedoor
closesbehindhim,Iwalkoverandlockit,thenpressmyheadagainstit.
TwodaysagoIwasaskingmyselfhowmylifecouldpossiblygetanybetter.TodayI’maskingmyselfhowitcouldpossiblygetanyworse.
Ijumpbackwiththesuddenknockatthedoor.It’sonlybeentensecondssincehewalkedout,soIknowit’sAtlas.IunlockitandopenitandI’msuddenlypressedagainst
somethingsoft.Atlas’sarmswraptightlyaroundme,desperately,andhislipsarepressedagainstthesideofmyhead.
Isqueezemyeyesshutandfinallyletthetearsfall.I’vecriedsomanytearsforRyleoverthepasttwodays,IhavenoideahowIstillhaveanyleftforAtlas.ButIdo,because
they’refallingdownmycheekslikerain.
“Lily,”hewhispers,stillholdingmetightly.“Iknowthisisthelastthingyouneedtohearrightnow.ButIhavetosayitbecauseI’vewalkedawayfromyoutoomany
timeswithoutsayingwhatIreallywanttosay.”
Hepullsbacktolookdownatmeandwhenheseesmytears,hebringshishandsuptomycheeks.“Inthefuture…ifbysomemiracleyoueverfindyourselfinthe
positiontofallinloveagain…fallinlovewithme.”Hepresseshislipsagainstmyforehead.“You’restillmyfavoriteperson,Lily.Alwayswill
be.”
Hereleasesmeandwalksaway,notevenneedingaresponse.
WhenIclosethedooragain,Islidetothefloor.Myheartfeelslikeitwantstogiveup.Idon’tblameit.It’ssufferedthroughtwoseparateheartachesinthecourseoftwo
days.
AndIhaveafeelingit’sgoingtobealongtimebeforeeitherofthoseheartachescanevenbegintoheal.ChapterTwenty-Nine
AllysadropsontothecouchbesidemeandRylee.“Imissyousomuch,Lily,”shesays.“I’mthinkingaboutcomingbacktoworkadayortwoa
week.”
Ilaugh,alittleshockedbyhercomment.“IlivedownstairsandIvisitalmosteveryday.Howcanyoupossiblymissme?”
Shepoutsasshepullsherlegsupbeneathher.“Fine,it’snotyouImiss.Imisswork.AndsometimesIjustwantoutofthishouse.”
It’sbeensixweekssinceshehadRylee,soI’msureshewouldbeclearedtocomebacktowork.ButIhonestlydidn’tthinkshe’devenwanttocomebacknowthatshehas
Rylee.IbendforwardandgiveRyleeakissonhernose.“WouldyoubringRyleewithyou?”
Allysashakesherhead.“No,youkeepmetoobusyforthat.MarshallcanwatchherwhileIwork.”
“Youmeanyoudon’thavepeopleforthat?”
Marshallispassingthroughthelivingroomwhenhehearsmesaythat.“Shush,Lily.Don’tspeaklikearichgirlinfrontofmydaughter.Blasphemy.”
Ilaugh.That’swhyIcomeoverhereafewnightsaweek,becauseit’stheonlytimeIlaugh.It’sbeensixweekssinceRyleleftforEngland,andnooneknowswhathappened
betweenus.Rylehasn’ttoldanyone,andneitherhaveI.Everyone,mymotherincluded,believeshesimplyleftforthestudyatCambridgeandthatnothinghaschangedbetweenus.
Ialsostillhaven’ttoldanyoneaboutthepregnancy.
I’vebeentothedoctortwice.ItturnsoutIwasalreadytwelveweeksalongthenightIfoundoutIwaspregnant,whichmakesmeeighteenweeksalongnow.I’mstilltryingtowrap
myheadaroundit.I’vebeenonthepillsinceIwaseighteen.Apparentlybeingforgetfulafewtimescaughtupwithme.
I’mbeginningtoshow,butit’scoldoutsoit’sbeeneasytohide.Noonesuspectsathingwhenyouhaveonabaggysweaterandajacket.
IknowIneedtotellsomeonesoon,butIfeellikeRyleshouldbethefirstoneItell,andIdon’twanttodothatoveralong-distancephoneconversation.He’llbebackinsix
weeks.IfIcansomehowkeepthingsquietuntilthen,I’lldecidewheretogofromthere.
IlookdownatRyleeandshe’ssmilingupatme.Imakesillyfacesathertomakehersmilemore.TherehavebeensomanytimesI’vewantedtotellAllysaaboutthepregnancy,but
itmakesithardwhenthesecretI’mkeepingisbeingkeptfromherownbrother.Idon’twanttoputherinthatkindofsituation,nomatterhowmuchitkillsmethatIcan’t
talktoheraboutit.
“HowareyouholdingupwithoutRyle?”Allysaasks.“Youreadyforhimtocomehome?”
Inod,butIdon’tsayanything.Ialwaystrytobrushoffthesubjectwhenshebringshimup.
Allysaleansbackintothecouchandsays,“IshestilllikingCambridge?”
“Yes,”Isay,stickingmytongueoutatRylee.Shegrins.Iwonderifmybabywilllooklikeher.Ihopeso.She’sreallycute,butImightbealittlepartial.
“Didheeverfigureoutthesubwaysystemthere?”Allysalaughs.“Iswear,everytimeItalktohim,he’slost.Hecan’tfigureoutwhethertotaketheA-lineor
theB-line.”
“Yeah,”Itellher.“Hefigureditout.”
Allysasitsuponthecouch.“Marshall!”
MarshallwalksintothelivingroomandAllysapullsRyleeoutofmyhands.ShehandshertoMarshallandsays,“Willyouchangeherdiaper?”
Idon’tknowwhysheaskshimthat.Ijustchangedherdiaper.
MarshallscrunchesuphisnoseandliftsRyleeoutofAllysa’sarms.“Areyouastinkygirl?”
They’rewearingmatchingonesies.
Allysagrabsmyhandsandyanksmeoffthecouchsofast,Isqueal.
“Wherearewegoing?”
Shedoesn’tanswerme.Shemarchestowardherbedroomandthenslamsthedooroncewe’rebothinside.Shepacesbackandforthafewtimesandthenshestopsandfacesme.
“Youbettertellmewhatthehellisgoingonrightnow,Lily!”
Ipullbackinshock.Whatisshetalkingabout?
Myhandsinstantlygotomystomach,becauseIthinkmaybeshe’snoticed,butshedoesn’tlookatmystomach.Shetakesastepforwardandpokesafingerinmychest.“There
isnosubwaysysteminCambridge,England,youidiot!”
“What?”Iamsoconfused.
“Imadethatup!”shesays.“Somethinghasn’tbeenrightwithyouforalongtime.You’remybestfriend,Lily.AndIknowmybrother.Italktohimeveryweek,and
heisn’tthesame.Somethinghappenedbetweenyoutwo,andIwanttoknowwhatitisrightnow!”
Shit.Iguessthisishappeningsoonerratherthanlater.
Islowlybringmyhandsuptomymouth,notsurewhattotellher.Howmuchtotellher.Ihadnoideauntilthismomenthowmuchit’sbeenkillingmethatIhaven’tbeenable
totalktoheraboutthis.Ialmostfeelalittlerelievedthatshereadsmesowell.
Iwalktoherbedandtakeaseatonit.“Allysa,”Iwhisper.“Sitdown.”
Iknowthisisgoingtohurtheralmostasmuchasithurtme.Shewalksovertoherbedandsitsdownnexttome,pullingmyhandstohers.
“Idon’tevenknowwheretostart.”
Shesqueezesmyhands,butsaysnothing.Forthenextfifteenminutes,Itellhereverything.Itellheraboutthefight.ItellheraboutAtlaspickingmeup.Itellheraboutthehospital.I
tellheraboutthepregnancy.
Itellherabouthow,forthelastsixweeks,IcrymyselftosleepeverynightbecauseIhaveneverfeltsoaloneandsoscared.
WhenI’mfinishedtellinghereverything,we’rebothcrying.Shehasn’trespondedtowhatI’vetoldherwithanythingotherthantheoccasional“Oh,
Lily.”
Shedoesn’thavetorespond,though.Ryleisherbrother.Iknowshewantsmetotakehispastintoconsiderationjustlikethelasttimeithappened.Iknowshe’llwantmetowork
thingsoutwithhimbecausehe’sherbrother.We’resupposedtobeonebig,happyfamily.Iknowexactlywhatshe’sthinking.
She’squietforalongtimeasshestrugglesthrougheverythingI’vetoldher.Shefinallyliftshereyestomineandsqueezesmyhands.“Mybrotherlovesyou,Lily.He
lovesyousomuch.YouhavechangedhisentirelifeandhavemadehimsomeonethatIneverthoughthecouldbe.Ashissister,Iwishmorethananythingthatyoucouldfindawaytoforgivehim.
Butasyourbestfriend,Ihavetotellyouthatifyoutakehimback,Iwillneverspeaktoyouagain.”
Ittakesamomentforherwordstoregister,butwhentheydo,Istartsobbing.
Shestartssobbing.
ShewrapsherarmsaroundmeandwecryoverthemutuallovewehaveforRyle.Wecryoverhowmuchwehatehimrightnow.
Afterseveralminutesofussobbingpatheticallyonherbed,shereleasesmeandwalksovertoherdressertoretrieveaboxoftissues.
We’rebothwipingoureyesandsnifflingwhenIsay,“You’rethebestfriendI’veeverhad.”
Shenods.“Iknow.AndnowI’mgonnabethebestaunt.”Shewipeshernoseandsnifflesagain,butshe’ssmiling.“Lily.You’rehavingababy.”
Shesaysitwithexcitement,andit’sthefirstmomentI’vebeenabletoshareanysenseofjoyovermypregnancy.“Ihatetosayit,butInoticedyouputonweight.Ithought
youwerejustdepressedandeatingalotsinceRyleleft.”
Shewalkstothebackofherclosetandstartspullingthingsoutforme.“Ihavesomanymaternityclothestogiveyou.”
Westartgoingthroughclothesandshepullsdownasuitcaseandopensit.Shebeginstothrowthingstowardthesuitcaseuntilitstartstooverflow.
“Icouldneverwearthese,”Itellher,holdingupashirtthatstillhasthetagonit.“They’realldesigner.I’llgetthemdirty.”
Shelaughsandshovesthemintothesuitcaseanyway.“Iwon’tneedthemback.IfIgetpregnantagain,I’lljusthavemypeoplebuymemore.”Shepullsashirtoffa
hangerandhandsittome.“Here,trythisoneon.”
Itakemyshirtoffandthenpullthematernityshirtovermyhead.WhenIgetitintoplace,Ilookinthemirror
Ilook…pregnant.Likeyou-can’t-hide-this-shitpregnant.
Sheputsahandonmystomachandstaresinthemirrorwithme.“Haveyoufoundoutifit’saboyoragirl?”
Ishakemyhead.“Idon’treallywanttoknow.”
“Ihopeit’sagirl,”shesays.“Ourdaughterscanbebesties.”
“Lily?”
WebothspinaroundtofindMarshallstandinginthedoorway.Hiseyesareonmystomach.OnAllysa’shandstillonmystomach.Hetiltshishead.Hepointsatme.
“You…”hesays,confused.“Lily,there’sa…doyourealizeyou’repregnant?”
Allysacalmlywalkstothedoorandputsherhandonthedoorknob.“Therearesomethingsyouarenever,evertorepeatifyouwanttokeepmeasyourwife.Thisisoneofthosethings.
Understood?”
Marshallraiseshiseyebrowsandtakesastepback.“Yes.Okay.Gotit.Lilyisnotpregnant.”HekissesAllysaontheforeheadandlooksbackatme.“Iamnottellingyou
congratulations,Lily.Forabsolutelynothing.”Allysashoveshimallthewayoutthedoorandclosesit,thenturnsbacktome.
“Weneedtoplanababyshower,”shesays.
“No.IneedtotellRylefirst.”
Shewavesherhanddismissively.“Wedon’tneedhimtoplanashower.We’lljustkeepitbetweenthetwoofusuntilthen.”
Shepullsoutherlaptop,andforthefirsttimesinceIfoundoutIwaspregnant,Ifeelhappyaboutit.ChapterThirty
It’sratherconvenientonlyhavingtotakeanelevatortogethomefromAllysa’s,asmuchasIwanttomoveoutofmyownapartmentattimes.It’sstill
strangelivingthere.WeonlylivedthereaweekbeforewesplitupandRyleleftforEngland.Itneverevenhadthechancetofeellikehomeandnowitfeelsalittletainted.Ihaven’teven
beenabletosleepinourbedroomsincethatnight,soI’vebeensleepingintheguestroomonmyoldbed.
AllysaandMarshallarestilltheonlyoneswhoknowaboutthepregnancy.It’sonlybeentwoweekssinceItoldthem,whichmakesmetwentyweeksalongnow.IknowIshouldtellmymother,
butRylewillbebackinafewweeks.IfeellikeIshouldtellhimfirstbeforeanyoneelsefindsout.IfIcanjustsomehowhidemybabybumpfromheruntilhegetsbacktotheStates.
IshouldprobablyjustacceptthefactthatI’mmorethanlikelygoingtohavetocallhimandtellhimlong-distance.Ihaven’tseenmymotherface-to-faceintwoweeks.It’s
thelongestwe’vegonewithoutseeingeachothersinceshemovedtoBoston,soifsomethingdoesn’thappensoonshe’llshowupatmyfrontdoorwhenI’mnotprepared.
Iswearmystomachhasdoubledinsizetheselasttwoweeksalone.Ifsomeoneseesmewhoknowsmewell,it’llbeimpossibletohide.Sofar,nooneatthefloralshophasaskedaboutit.
IthinkI’mstillonthecuspof“Isshepregnant?Orjustchubby?”
Istarttounlockthedoortomyapartment,butitbeginstoopenfromtheotherside.BeforeIcanpullthejacketovertohidemystomachfromwhoeverisontheothersideofthedoor,
Ryle’seyeslandonme.I’mwearingoneoftheshirtsAllysagavemeandit’skindofimpossibletohidethefactthatI’mwearingamaternityshirtwhenhe’sstaring
rightatit.
Ryle.
Ryleishere.
Myheartbeginstosmashagainstthewallsofmychest.Myneckbeginstoitch,soIbringmyhandupandrestitthere,feelingthepoundingofmyheartagainstmypalm.
It’spoundingbecauseI’mterrifiedofhim.
It’spoundingbecauseIhatehim.
It’spoundingbecauseI’vemissedhim.
Hiseyesslowlycrawlfrommystomachtomyface.Ahurtfulexpressiontakesoverhim,likeI’vejuststabbedhimstraightthroughtheheart.Hetakesastepbackintomyapartmentandhis
handscomeuptohismouth.
Hebeginstoshakehisheadinconfusion.Icanseethebetrayalalloverhisfacewhenhebarelyforcesoutmyname.“Lily?”
Istandfrozen,onehandonmystomachinprotection,theotherhandstillflatagainstmychest.I’mtooscaredtomoveorsayanything.Idon’twanttoreactuntilIknowexactly
howhe’sgoingtoreact.
WhenheseesthefearinmyeyesandthesmallgaspsofbreathI’mbarelyinhaling,heholdsupareassuringpalm
“I’mnotgoingtohurtyou,Lily.I’mjustheretotalktoyou.”Heswingsthedooropenwiderandpointsintothelivingroom.“Look.”Hestepsasideandmy
eyesfalltosomeonestandingbehindhim.
NowI’mtheonewhofeelsbetrayed.
“Marshall?”
Marshallimmediatelyholdsuphishandsindefense.“Ihadnoideahewascominghomeearly,Lily.Ryletextedandaskedformyhelp.Hespecificallytoldmenottosayanythingtoyouor
Issa.Pleasedon’tletherdivorceme,I’msimplyaninnocentbystander.”
Ishakemyhead,tryingtounderstandwhatI’mseeing.
“Iaskedhimtomeetmeheresoyou’dfeelmorecomfortabletalkingtome,”Rylesays.“He’shereforyou,he’snothereforme.”
IglancebackatMarshallandhenods.Itgivesmeenoughreassurancetoentertheapartment.Ryleisstillsomewhatinshock,whichisunderstandable.Hiseyeskeepmeetingmystomachandthen
flickingawaylikeithurtstolookatme.HerunstwohandsthroughhishairandthenpointsdownthehallwaywhilelookingatMarshall.
“We’llbeinthebedroom.Ifyouhearmeget…ifIstarttoyell…”
MarshallknowswhatRyleisaskinghim.“I’mnotgoinganywhere.”
AsIfollowRyleintomybedroom,Iwonderwhatthatmustbelike.Tohavenoideawhatmightsetyouofforhowbadyourreactionwillbe.Tohaveabsolutelynocontroloveryourown
emotions.
Forabriefmoment,Ifeelaminusculeamountofsorrowforhim.ButwhenmyeyesfalltoourbedandIrememberthatnight,mysorrowdiminishescompletely.
Rylepushesthedoorshut,butdoesn’tcloseitalltheway.Helookslikehe’sagedanentireyearinthetwomonthsit’sbeensinceI’veseenhim.Thebagsunderhis
eyes,thefurrowedbrow,thesunkenposture.Ifregrettookhumanform,itwouldlookidenticaltoRyle.
Hiseyesfalltomystomachagainandhetakesaslowstepforward.Thenanother.He’scautious,asheshouldbe.Hereachesoutatimidhand,askingforpermissiontotouchme.Inod
softly
Hetakesonemorestepforwardandthenplacesasteadypalmagainstmystomach.
Icanfeelthewarmthofhishandthroughmyshirt,andmyeyessnapshut.DespitetheresentmentI’vebuiltupinmyhearttowardhim,itdoesn’tmeantheemotionsaren’t
stillthere.Justbecausesomeonehurtsyoudoesn’tmeanyoucansimplystoplovingthem.It’snotaperson’sactionsthathurtthemost.It’sthelove.Iftherewasnolove
attachedtotheaction,thepainwouldbealittleeasiertobear.
HemoveshishandovermystomachandIopenmyeyesagain.He’sshakinghishead,likehecan’tprocesswhat’shappeningrightnow.Iwatchasheslowlysinkstohiskneesin
frontofme.
Hisarmssnakearoundmywaistandhepresseshislipsagainstmystomach.Heclaspshishandsaroundmylowerbackandpresseshisforeheadagainstme.
It’shardtodescribewhatIfeelforhiminthismoment.Likeanymotherwouldwantforherchild,it’sabeautifulthingtoseethelovehealreadyhas.It’sbeenhardnot
sharingthiswithanyone.It’shardnotbeingabletosharethiswithhim,nomatterhowmuchresentmentIholdtowardhim.Myhandsgotohishairwhileheholdsmeagainsthim.Part
ofmewantstoscreamathimandcallthepolicelikeIshouldhavedonethatnight.Partofmefeelsforthatlittleboywhoheldhisbrotherinhisarmsandwatchedhimdie.PartofmewishesI
wouldhavenevermethim.PartofmewishesIcouldforgivehim.
Heunwrapshisarmsfromaroundmywaistandpressesahandintothemattressnexttous.Hepullshimselfupandthensitsonthebed.Hiselbowsrestonhiskneesandhishandsaredrawnupto
hismouth.
Isitnexttohim,knowingwehavetohavethisconversation,butnotwantingto.“Nakedtruths?”
Henods.
Idon’tknowwhichoneofusissupposedtogofirst.Idon’treallyhavemuchtosaytohimatthispoint,soIwaitforhimtospeakfirst.
“Idon’tevenknowwheretostart,Lily.”Herubshishandsdownhisface.
“Howaboutyoustartwith,‘I’msorryIattackedyou.’”
Hiseyesmeetmine,widewithcertainty.“Lily,youhavenoidea.Iamsosorry.YouhavenoideawhatI’vebeenthroughthesepasttwomonthsknowingwhatI’vedoneto
you.”
Iclenchmyteethtogether.Icanfeelmyfingersastheyfistaroundtheblanketbesideme.
Ihavenoideawhathe’sbeenthrough?
Ishakemyhead,slowly.“Youhavenoidea,Ryle.”
Istandup,theangerandhatredspillingoutofme.Ispin,pointingathim.“Youhavenoidea!Youhavenoideawhatit’sliketogothroughwhatyou’veputme
through!Tofearforyourlifeatthehandsofthemanyoulove?Togetphysicallysickjustthinkingaboutwhathe’sdonetoyou?Youhavenoidea,Ryle!None!Fuckyou!
Fuckyoufordoingthistome!”
Isuckinahugebreath,shockedatmyself.Theangerjustcamelikeawave.Iswipeatmytearsandspinaround,unabletolookathim.
“Lily,”hesays.“Idon’t…”
“No!”Iyell,spinningaroundagain.“Iamnotfinished!Youdon’tgettosayyourtruthuntilI’vesaidmine!”
He’sgrabbingathisjaw,squeezingthestressoutofit.Hedropshiseyestothefloor,unabletolookattherageinmine.Itakethreestepstowardhimanddroptomyknees.Iplacemy
handsonhislegs,forcinghimtolookmestraightintheeyeswhileIspeaktohim.
“Yes.IkeptthemagnetAtlasgavemewhenwewerekids.Yes.Ikeptthejournals.No,Ididn’ttellyouaboutmytattoo.Yes,Iprobablyshouldhave.Andyes,Istilllovehim.And
I’lllovehimuntilIdie,becausehewasahugepartofmylife.Andyes,I’msurethathurtsyou.Butnoneofthatgaveyoutherighttodowhatyoudidtome.Evenifyouwouldhave
walkedintomybedroomandcaughtusinbedtogether,youstillwouldnothavetherighttolayahandonme,yougoddamnsonofabitch!”
Ipushoffhiskneesandstandupagain.“Nowit’syourturn!”Iyell.
Icontinuepacingtheroom.Myheartispoundinglikeitwantsout.IwishIcouldgiveitawayout.I’dsetthemotherfuckerfreerightnowifIcould
SeveralminutespassasIcontinuetopace.Ryle’ssilenceandmyangereventuallyjustfoldtogetherintopain.
Mytearshaveexhaustedme.Iamsotiredoffeeling.Ifalldesperatelyontomybedandcryintomypillow.Ipressmyfacesohardagainstmypillow,Icanbarelybreathe.
IfeelRyleliedownnexttome.Heplacesagentlehandonthebackofmyhead,attemptingtosoothawaythepainhe’scausingme.Myeyesareclosed,stillpressedintothepillow,butI
feelhimgentlyresthisheadagainstmine.
“MytruthisthatIhaveabsolutelynothingtosay,”hesaysquietly.“I’llneverbeabletotakebackwhatIdidtoyou.Andyou’llneverbelievemeifIpromise
itwon’thappenagain.”Hepressesakissagainstmyhead.“Youaremyworld,Lily.Myworld.WhenIwokeuponthisbedthatnightandyouweregone,IknewIwouldnever
getyouback.IcameheretotellyouhowincrediblysorryIam.IcametotellyouIwastakingthatjobofferinMinnesota.Icametotellyougoodbye.ButLily…”His
lipspressagainstmyheadagainandheexhalessharply.“Lily,Ican’tdothatnow.Youhaveapartofmeinsideofyou.AndIalreadylovethisbabymorethanI’veeverloved
anythinginmywholelife.”Hisvoicecracksandhegripsmeevenharder.“Pleasedon’ttakethisawayfromme,Lily.Please.”
Thepaininhisvoiceripplesthroughme,andwhenIliftmytear-soakedfacetolookathim,hepresseshislipsdesperatelytomineandthenpullsback.“Please,Lily.Iloveyou.
Helpme.”
Hislipsbrieflymeetmineagain.WhenIdon’tpushhimaway,hismouthcomesbackathirdtime.
Afourth.
Whenhislipsmeetminethefifthtime,theydon’tleave.
Hewrapshisarmsaroundmeandpullsmetohim.Mybodyistiredandweak,butitremembershim.MybodyremembershowhisbodycansootheeverythingI’mfeeling.Howhishasagentleness
initthatmybodyhasbeencravingfortwomonthsnow.
“Iloveyou,”hewhispersagainstmymouth.Histonguesweepssoftlyagainstmineandit’ssowrongandsogoodandsopainful.BeforeIknowit,I’monmybackand
he’scrawlingontopofme.HistouchiseverythingIneedandeverythingIshouldn’t.
Hishandwrapsinmyhairandinaninstant,I’mtransferredbacktothatnight.
I’minthekitchen,andhishandistuggingmyhairsohardithurts.
Hebrushesthehairfrommyfaceandinaninstant,I’mtransferredbacktothatnight.
I’mstandinginthedoorway,andhishandistrailingacrossmyshoulder,rightbeforehebitesintomewithallthestrengthinhisjaw.
Hisforeheadrestsgentlyagainstmineandinaninstant,I’mtransferredbacktothatnight.
I’monthissamebedbeneathhimwhenheslamshisheadagainstminesohardIhavetogetsixstitches.
Mybodybecomesunresponsivetohis.Theangerbeginstorollbackoverme.Hismouthstopsmovingagainstminewhenhefeelsmefreeze.
Whenhepullsbackandlooksdownonme,Idon’tevenhavetosayanything.Oureyes,lockedtogether,speakmorenakedtruthsthanourmouthseverhave.MyeyesaretellinghisthatIcan
nolongerstandbeingtouchedbyhim.Hiseyesaretellingminethathealreadyknows.
Hebeginstonod,slowly.
Hebacksawayfromme,crawlingdownmybodyuntilhe’sattheedgeofthebedwithhisbacktome.He’sstillnoddingashecomestoaslowstand,fullyawarethathe’snot
gettingmyforgivenesstonight.Hebeginsheadingtowardmybedroomdoor.
“Wait,”Isaytohim.
Hehalf-turns,lookingbackatmefromthedoorway.
Iliftmychin,lookingathimwithfinality.“Iwishthisbabywasn’tyours,Ryle.WitheverythingthatIam,Iwishthisbabywasnotapartofyou.”
IfIthoughthisworldcouldn’tcrumblemore,Iwaswrong.
HewalksoutofmybedroomandIpressmyfaceintomypillow.IthoughtifIcouldjusthurthimlikehehadhurtme,Iwouldfeelavenged.
Idon’t.
Instead,Ifeelvindictiveandmean.
IfeellikeI’mmyfather.ChapterThirty-One
Mom:Imissyou.WhenamIgoingtoseeyou?
Istareatthetext.It’sbeentwodayssinceRylefoundoutI’mpregnant.Iknowit’stimetotellmymother.I’mnotnervousabouttellingher
I’mpregnant.TheonlythingthatscaresmeisdiscussingmysituationwithRylewithher.
Me:Missyou,too.I’llcomeovertomorrowafternoon.Canyoumakelasagna?
AssoonasIcloseoutthetexttoher,Igetanotherincomingtext.
Allysa:Comeupstairsandeatdinnerwithustonight.It’shomemadepizzanight.
Ihaven’tbeentoAllysa’sinafewdays.SincebeforeRylecamehome.I’mnotsurewherehe’sstaying,butIassumeit’swiththem.ThelastthingIwantrightnow
istohavetobeinthesameapartmentashim.
Me:Whoallwillbethere?
Allysa:Lily…Iwouldn’tdothattoyou.He’sworkinguntil8tomorrowmorning.It’lljustbethethreeofus.
Sheknowsmewaytoowell.ItextherbackandtellherI’llcomeoverassoonasIfinishupwithwork.
???
“Whatdobabieseatatthisage?”
We’reallseatedaroundthetable.RyleewasasleepwhenIgothere,butIwokeherupsoIcouldholdher.Allysadidn’tmind;shesaidshedoesn’twantherwideawakewhen
she’sreadytogotobed.
“Breastmilk,”Marshallsayswithamouthful.“ButsometimesIstickmyfingerinmysodaandputitinhermouthsoshecantasteit.”
“Marshall!”Allysayells.“Youbetterbekidding.”
“Totallykidding,”hesays,althoughIcan’ttellifhereallyis.
“Butwhendotheystarteatingbabyfood?”Iask.IfigureIneedtolearnthisstuffbeforegivingbirth.
“Aroundfourmonths,”Allysasayswithayawn.Shedropsherforkandleansbackinherchair,rubbinghereyes.
“Youwantmetokeepheratmyplacetonightsoyouguyscangetafullnightofsleep?”
Allysasays,“No,it’sfine,”atthesametimeMarshallsays,“Thatwouldbeawesome.”
Ilaugh.“Really.Iliverightdownstairs.Idon’tworktomorrowsoifIdon’tgetanysleeptonightIcanjustsleepintomorrow.”
Allysalookslikeshe’scontemplatingitforamoment.“Icouldleavemycellphoneonincaseyouneedme.”
IlookbackdownatRyleeandgrin.“Didyouhearthat?YougettohaveasleepoverwithAuntLily!”
???
WitheverythingAllysaisthrowinginherdiaperbag,itlookslikeI’mabouttotakeRyleeonatripacrossthecountry.“She’llletyouknowwhenshe’s
hungry.Don’tusethemicrowavetoheatthemilk,justputitin…”
“Iknow,”Iinterrupt.“I’vemadeherlikefiftybottlessinceshe’sbeenalive.”
Allysanodsandthenwalksovertoherbed.Shedropsthediaperbagdownbesideme.MarshallisinthelivingroomfeedingRyleeonelasttime,soAllysaliesdownbesidemeonthebedwhilewe
wait.Shepropsherheaduponherhand.
“Doyouknowwhatthismeans?”sheasks.
“No.What?”
“Igettohavesextonight.It’sbeenfourmonths.”
Icrinkleupmynose.“Ididn’tneedtoknowthat.”
Shelaughsandfallsdownonherpillow,butthensitsstraightup.“Shit,”shesays.“Ishouldprobablyshavemylegs.Ithinkit’sbeenfourmonthssinceIdidthat,
too.”
Ilaugh,butthenIgasp.Myhandsmovequicklytomystomach.“OhmyGod!Ijustfeltsomething!”
“Really?”Allysaputsherhandonmystomachandwe’rebothquietforthenextfiveminutesaswewaitforittohappenagain.Itdoes,butit’ssosoft,it’s
almostunnoticeable.Ilaughagainassoonasithappens.
“Ididn’tfeelanything,”Allysasays,pouting.“Iguessit’llbeafewmoreweeksbeforeyoucanfeelitfromtheoutside,though.Isthisthefirsttimeyoufelt
itmove?”
“Yeah.I’vebeenscaredIwasgrowingthelaziestbabyinhistory.”Ikeepmyhandsonmystomach,hopingtofeelitagain.Wesitquietlyforafewmoreminutes,andI
can’thelpbutwishmycircumstancesweredifferent.Ryleshouldbehere.Heshouldbetheonesittingbesidemewithhishandonmystomach.NotAllysa.
ThethoughtalmosttakesawayallthejoyI’mfeeling.Allysamustnoticebecausesheputsoneofherhandsonmineandsqueezes.WhenIlookather,sheisn’tsmilinganymore.
“Lily,”shesays.“I’vebeenwantingtosaysomethingtoyou.”
Oh,God.Idon’tlikethesoundofhervoice.
“Whatisit?”
Shesighsandthenforcesagloomysmile.“Iknowyou’resadthatyou’regoingthroughthiswithoutmybrother.Nomatterhowinvolvedheis,Ijustwantyoutoknowthatthis
isgoingtobethebestthingyou’veeverexperiencedinyourlife.You’regonnabeagreatmom,Lily.Thisbabyisreallylucky.”
I’mgladAllysaistheonlyoneinhererightnow,becauseherwordsmakemelaugh,cry,andsnotlikeahormonalteenager.Ihugherandtellherthankyou.It’samazinghowhearing
thosewordsgivesmebackthejoyIwasfeeling.
Shesmilesandthensays,“NowgogetmybabyandtakeherawayfromheresoIcanhavesomesexwithmyfilthyrichhusband.”
Irolloffthebedandstandup.“Yousureknowhowtobringlevityintoasituation.I’dsayit’syourstrongpoint.”
Shesmiles.“That’swhatI’mherefor.Nowgoaway.”ChapterThirty-Two
OfallthesecretsI’veheldoverthelastfewmonths,I’mthesaddestaboutkeepingeverythingfrommymother.Idon’tknowhowshe’lltakeit.Iknow
she’llbeexcitedaboutthepregnancy,butIdon’tknowhowshe’llfeelaboutmeandRylesplittingup.ShelovesRyle.Andbasedonherhistorywiththesetypesofsituations,
she’llprobablyfinditveryeasytoexcusehisbehaviorandtryandconvincemetotakehimback.Andinallhonesty,that’spartofthereasonI’vebeenstallingthis,because
I’mscaredthere’sachanceshemightbesuccessful.
MostdaysI’mstrong.MostdaysI’msomadathimthatthethoughtofeverforgivinghimisludicrous.ButsomedaysImisshimsomuchIcan’tbreathe.ImissthefunIhad
withhim.Imissmakinglovetohim.Imissmissinghim.HeusedtoworksomanyhoursthatwhenhewouldwalkinthefrontdooratnightIwouldrushacrosstheroomandjumpinhisarms
becauseImissedhimsomuch.IevenmisshowmuchheloveditwhenIwoulddothat.
It’sthenot-so-strongdayswhenIwishmymotherknewabouteverythingthatwasgoingon.Isometimesjustwanttodriveovertoherhouseandcurluponthecouchwithherwhileshe
tucksmyhairbehindmyearandtellsmeit’llallbeokay.Sometimesevengrownwomenneedtheirmother’scomfortsowecanjusttakeabreakfromhavingtobestrongallthetime.
Isitinmycar,parkedinherdriveway,foragoodfiveminutesbeforeIworkupthestrengthtogoinside.ItsucksthatIhavetodothisbecauseIknowthatinaway,I’llbebreaking
herheart,too.Ihateitwhenshe’ssadandtellingherImarriedamanwhomightbelikemyfatherisgoingtomakeherreallysad.
WhenIwalkthroughthefrontdoor,she’sinthekitchenlayeringnoodlesinapan.Idon’tremovemycoatrightawayforobviousreasons.I’mnotwearingamaternityshirtbut
mybumpisalmostimpossibletohidewithoutajacket.Especiallyfromamother.
“Hey,sweetie!”shesays.
Iwalkintothekitchenandgiveherasidehugwhileshelayerscheeseoverthetopofthelasagna.Oncethelasagnaisintheoven,wewalkovertothediningroomtableandtakeaseat.She
leansbackinherchairandtakesasipfromaglassoftea.
She’ssmiling.Ihateitevenmorethatshelookssohappyrightnow.
“Lily,”shesays.“There’ssomethingIneedtotellyou.”
Idon’tlikethis.Iwascomingoverheretotalktoher.I’mnotpreparedtoreceiveatalk.
“Whatisit?”Iaskhesitantly.
Shegripsherglassofteawithbothhands.“I’mseeingsomeone.”
Mymouthdropsopen.
“Really?”Iask,shakingmyhead.“That’s…”I’mabouttosaygood,butthenIgrowinstantlyworriedthatshe’sjustput
herselfinasimilarsituationshewasinwithmyfather.Shecanseetheworryonmyface,soshegrabsmyhandsinbothofhers.
“He’sgood,Lily.He’ssogood.Ipromise.”
Reliefwashesovermeinaninstant,becauseIcanseeshe’stellingthetruth.Icanseethehappinessinhereyes.“Wow,”Isay,notexpectingthisatall.“I’m
happyforyou.WhencanImeethim?”
“Tonight,ifyouwant,”shesays.“Icaninvitehimovertoeatwithus.”
Ishakemyhead.“No,”Iwhisper.“Now’snotagoodtime.”
HerhandssqueezearoundmineassoonassherealizesI’mheretotellhersomethingimportant.Istartwiththebetterpartofthenewsfirst.
Istandupandremovemyjacket.Atfirst,shedoesn’tthinkanythingofit.ShejustassumesI’mmakingmyselfcomfortable.ButthenItakeoneofherhandsandIpressitagainst
mystomach.“You’regonnabeagrandma.”
Hereyeswidenandforseveralseconds,she’sstunnedspeechless.Butthentearsbegintoform.Shejumpsupandpullsmeintoahug.“Lily!”shesays.“OhmyGod!”
Shepullsback,smiling.“Thatwassofast.Wereyoutrying?Youhaven’tevenbeenmarriedforverylong.”
Ishakemyhead.“No.Itwasashock.Believeme.”
Shelaughsandafteranotherhug,webothsitdownagain.Itrytokeepupmysmile,butit’snotthesmileofanelatedexpectantmother.Sheseesthatalmostimmediately.Sheslidesa
handoverhermouth.“Sweetie,”shewhispers.“What’sthematter?”
Untilthismoment,I’vefoughttoremainstrong.I’vefoughttonotfeeltoosorryformyselfwhenI’maroundotherpeople.Butsittingherewithmymother,Icraveweakness.I
justwanttobeabletogiveupforalittlewhile.Iwanthertotakeoverandhugmeandtellmeit’llallbeokay.AndforthenextfifteenminuteswhileIcryinherarms,that’s
exactlywhathappens.IjuststopfightingformyselfbecauseIneedsomeoneelsetodoitforme.
Isparehermostofthedetailsofourrelationship,butIdotellherthemostimportantthings.Thathe’shurtmeonmorethanoneoccasion,andIdon’tknowwhattodo.That
I’mscaredtohavethisbabyalone.ThatI’mscaredImightmakethewrongdecision.ThatI’mscaredI’mbeingtooweakandthatIshouldhavehadhimarrested.That
I’mscaredI’mbeingtoosensitiveandIdon’tknowifI’moverreacting.Basically,ItellhereverythingIhaven’tevenbeenbraveenoughtofullyadmitto
myself.
Sheretrievessomenapkinsoutofthekitchenandcomesbacktothetable.Afteroureyesarefinallydry,shebeginstocrumplethenapkinupbetweenherhands,rollingitoverincirclesas
shestaresdownatit.
“Doyouwanttotakehimback?”sheasks.
Idon’tsayyes.ButIalsodon’tsayno.
ThisisthefirstmomentsincethishashappenedthatI’mbeingcompletelyhonest.I’mhonesttoherandtomyself.Maybebecauseshe’stheonlyoneIknowwhohasbeen
throughthis.She’stheonlyoneIknowwhowouldunderstandthemassiveamountsofconfusionI’vebeenexperiencing.
Ishakemyhead,butIalsoshrug.“MostofmefeelslikeI’llneverbeabletotrusthimagain.ButahugepartofmegrieveswhatIhadwithhim.Weweresogoodtogether,Mom.The
timesIspentwithhimweresomeofthebestmomentsofmylife.AndoccasionallyIfeellikemaybeIdon’twanttogivethatup.”
Iwipethenapkinbeneathmyeye,soakingupmoretears.“Sometimes…whenI’mreallymissinghim…Itellmyselfthatmaybeitwasn’t
thatbad.MaybeIcouldputupwithhimwhenhe’sathisworstjustsoIcanhavehimwhenhe’sathisbest.”
Sheputsherhandontopofmineandrubsherthumbbackandforth.“Iknowexactlywhatyoumean,Lily.Butthelastthingyouwanttodoislosesightofyourlimit.Pleasedon’t
allowthattohappen.”
Ihavenoideawhatshemeansbythat.Sheseestheconfusioninmyexpression,soshesqueezesmyarmandexplainsinmoredetail.
“Weallhavealimit.Whatwe’rewillingtoputupwithbeforewebreak.WhenImarriedyourfather,Iknewexactlywhatmylimitwas.Butslowly…withevery
incident…mylimitwaspushedalittlemore.Andalittlemore.Thefirsttimeyourfatherhitme,hewasimmediatelysorry.Hesworeitwouldneverhappenagain.Thesecond
timehehitme,hewasevenmoresorry.Thethirdtimeithappened,itwasmorethanahit.Itwasabeating.Andeverysingletime,Itookhimback.Butthefourthtime,itwasonlyaslap.
Andwhenthathappened,Ifeltrelieved.Irememberthinking,‘Atleasthedidn’tbeatmethistime.Thiswasn’tsobad.’?”
Shebringsthenapkinuptohereyesandsays,“Everyincidentchipsawayatyourlimit.Everytimeyouchoosetostay,itmakesthenexttimethatmuchhardertoleave.Eventually,you
losesightofyourlimitaltogether,becauseyoustarttothink,‘I’velastedfiveyearsnow.What’sfivemore?’?”
ShegrabsmyhandsandholdsthemwhileIcry.“Don’tbelikeme,Lily.Iknowthatyoubelievehelovesyou,andI’msurehedoes.Buthe’snotlovingyoutherightway.
Hedoesn’tloveyouthewayyoudeservetobeloved.IfRyletrulylovesyou,hewouldn’tallowyoutotakehimback.Hewouldmakethedecisiontoleaveyouhimselfsothatheknows
forafacthecanneverhurtyouagain.That’sthekindofloveawomandeserves,Lily.”
Iwishwithallmyheartthatshedidn’tlearnthesethingsfromexperience.Ipullhertomeandhugher.
Forwhateverreason,IthoughtIwouldhavetodefendmyselftoherwhenIcameoverhere.NotoncedidIthinkIwouldcomeoverhereandlearnfromher.Ishouldknowbetter.Ithoughtmy
motherwasweakinthepast,butshe’sactuallyoneofthestrongestwomenIknow.
“Mom?”Isay,pullingback.“IwanttobeyouwhenIgrowup.”
Shelaughsandbrushesthehairfrommyface.Icanseeinthewayshelooksatmethatshe’dtradespotswithmeinaheartbeat.She’sfeelingmorepainformeinthismomentthan
sheeverfeltforherself.“Iwanttotellyousomething,”shesays.
Shereachesformyhandsagain.
“Thedayyougaveyourfather’seulogy?Iknowyoudidn’tfreezeup,Lily.Youstoodatthatpodiumandrefusedtosayasinglegoodthingaboutthatman.ItwastheproudestI
haveeverbeenofyou.Youweretheonlyoneinmylifewhoeverstoodupforme.YouwerestrongwhenIwasscared.”Atearfallsfromhereyewhenshesays,“Bethatgirl,Lily.Braveandbold.”ChapterThirty-Three
“WhatamIgoingtodowiththreecarseats?”
I’msittingonAllysa’scouch,staringatallthestuff.Shethrewmeababyshowertoday.Mymothercame.Ryle’smotherevenflewinforit,butshe’sintheguestroom
sleepingoffherjetlagnow.Thegirlsfromthefloralshopcameandafewfriendsfrommyoldjob.EvenDevincame.Itwasactuallyalotoffun,despitethefactthatI’vebeendreadingit
forthepastseveralweeks.
“That’swhyItoldyoutostartaregistry,sononeofthegiftswouldbeduplicated,”Allysasays.
Isigh.“IguessIcanhaveMomreturnhers.She’sboughtmeenoughstuffasitis.”
Istandupandstartgatheringallthegifts.Marshallalreadysaidhe’dhelpmecarrythemdowntomyapartment,soAllysahelpsmethroweverythinginsidetrashbags.Iholdthemopen
whileshepickseverythingupfromthefloor.I’malmostthirtyweekspregnantnow,soshedoesn’tgettheeasierjobofholdingopenthetrash.
WehaveeverythingbaggedupandMarshallisonhissecondtripdowntomyapartmentwhenIopenAllysa’sfrontdoor,preparedtodragatrashbagfullofgiftstotheelevator.What
I’mnotpreparedforisRyle,whoisstandingontheothersideofthedoorlookingbackatme.Webothlookequallyasshockedtoseeeachother,consideringwehaven’tspokensince
ourfightthreemonthsago.
Thisencounterwasboundtohappen,though.Ican’tbebestfriendswithmyhusband’ssisterandliveinthesamebuildingashimwithouteventuallyrunningintohim.
I’msureheknewIwashavingtheshowertodaysincehismotherflewinforit,buthestilllooksalittlesurprisedwhenheseesallthestuffbehindme.Itmakesmewonderifhim
showingupjustasI’mleavingisacoincidenceorasuitableconvenience.HelooksdownatthetrashbagI’mholdingandhetakesitfrommyhands.“Letmegetthis.”
Ilethim.HetakesthatbagandanotheronedowntotheapartmentwhileIgathermythings.HeandMarshallarewalkingbackinsidetheapartmentasI’mpreparingtowalkout.
Rylegrabsthelastbagofstuffandbeginstoheadtowardthefrontdooragain.I’mfollowingbehindhimwhenMarshallgivesmeasilentlook,askingmeifI’mokaywithRylegoing
downstairswithme.Inod.Ican’tkeepavoidingRyleforever,sonowisasgoodatimeasanytodiscusswherewegofromhere.
It’sonlyafewfloorsbetweentheirapartmentandmine,buttheelevatorridedownwithRylefeelslikethelongestit’severtaken.Icatchhimstaringatmystomachacoupleof
timesanditmakesmewonderhowitmustfeel,goingthreemonthswithoutseeingmepregnant.
Myapartmentdoorisunlocked,soIpushitopenandhefollowsmeinside.HetakesthelastofthestufftothenurseryandIcanhearhimmovingthingsaround,openingboxes.Istayinthe
kitchenandcleanthingsthatdon’tevenneedcleaning.Myheartisinmythroat,knowinghe’sinmyapartment.Idon’tfeelscaredofhiminthismoment.Ijustfeelnervous.I
wantedtobemorepreparedforthisconversationbecauseIabsolutelyhateconfrontation.ButIknowweneedtodiscussthebabyandourfuture.Ijustdon’twantto.Notyet,anyway.
Hewalksdownthehallwayandintothekitchen.Icatchhimlookingatmystomachagain.Heglancesawayjustasquickly.“DoyouwantmetoassemblethecribwhileI’m
here?”
Ishouldprobablysayno,buthe’shalfresponsibleforthechildgrowinginsideofme.Ifhe’sgoingtoofferphysicallaborI’mgoingtotakeit,nomatterhowangryIstill
amathim.“Yeah.Thatwouldbeabighelp.”
Hepointstowardthelaundryroom.“Ismytoolboxstillinthere?”
Inodandheheadstowardthelaundryroom.IopentherefrigeratorandfaceitsoIdon’thavetowatchhimwalkbackthroughthekitchen.Whenhe’sfinallyinthenurseryagain,I
closetherefrigeratorandpressmyforeheadagainstitasIgripthehandle.IbreatheinandoutasItrytoprocesseverythingthat’shappeninginsideofmerightnow.
Helooksreallygood.It’sbeensolongsinceI’veseenhim,Iforgothowbeautifulheis.Ihaveanurgetorundownthehallwayandjumpintohisarms.Iwanttofeelhismouthon
mine.Iwanttohearhimtellmehowmuchhelovesme.IwanthimtoliedownnexttomeandputhishandonmystomachlikeI’veimaginedhimdoingsomanytimes
Itwouldbesoeasy.MylifewouldbesomucheasierrightnowifIwouldjustforgivehimandtakehimback.
Iclosemyeyesandrepeatthewordsmymothersaidtome.“IfRyletrulylovesyou,hewouldn’tallowyoutotakehimback.”
Thatreminderistheonlythingthatpreventsmefromrunningdownthehallway.
???
Ikeepmyselfbusyinthekitchenforthenexthourasheremainsinthenursery.Ieventuallyhavetowalkpastittograbmyphonechargerfrommyroom.Onmywaybackdown
thehallway,Ipauseatthedoorofthenursery.
Thecribisassembled.Heevenputthebeddingon.He’sstandingoverit,grippingtherailing,staringinsidetheemptycrib.He’ssoquietandstill,helookslikeastatue.
He’slostinthoughtanddoesn’tevennoticemestandingoutsidethedoorway.Itmakesmewonderwherehismindhaswandered.
Ishethinkingaboutthebaby?Thechildhewon’tevenbelivingwithwhenitsleepsinthatverycrib?
Untilthismoment,Iwasn’tsureifheevenwantedtobeapartofthebaby’slife.Butthelookonhisfaceprovestomethathedoes.I’veneverseensomuchsadnessinone
expression,andI’mnotevenfacinghimstraighton.Ifeellikethesadnesshe’sfeelinginthismomenthasabsolutelynothingtodowithmeandeverythingtodowiththoughtsofhis
child.
Heglancesupandseesmestandinginthedoorway.Hepushesoffthecribandshakeshimselfoutofhistrance.“Finished,”hesays,wavingahandtowardthecrib.Hebeginsputting
histoolsbackinsidethetoolcase.“IsthereanythingelseyouneedwhileI’mhere?”
IshakemyheadasIwalkovertothecribandadmireit.SinceIdon’tknowifit’saboyoragirl,Idecidedtogowithanaturetheme.Thebeddingsetistanandgreenwith
picturesofplantsandtreesalloverit.ItmatchesthecurtainsandwilleventuallymatchamuralIplantopaintonthewallatsomepoint.Ialsoplantofillthenurserywithafewliveplants
fromtheshop.Ican’thelpbutsmile,finallyseeingitallstarttocometogether.Heevenputupthemobile.IreachupandturnitonandBrahms’sLullabybeginstoplay.Istareat
itasitmakesafullspinandthenIglancebackatRyle.He’sstandingafewfeetaway,justwatchingme.
AsIstarebackathim,Ithinkabouthoweasyitisforhumanstomakejudgmentswhenwe’restandingontheoutsideofasituation.Ispentyearsjudgingmymother’ssituation.
It’seasywhenwe’reontheoutsidetobelievethatwewouldwalkawaywithoutasecondthoughtifapersonmistreatedus.It’seasytosaywecouldn’tcontinuetolove
someonewhomistreatsuswhenwearen’ttheonesfeelingtheloveofthatperson.
Whenyouexperienceitfirsthand,itisn’tsoeasytohatethepersonwhomistreatsyouwhenmostofthetimethey’reyourgodsend.
Ryle’seyesgainalittlebitofhope,andIhatethathecanseethatmywallsaretemporarilylowered.Hebeginstotakeaslowsteptowardme.Iknowhe’sabouttopullmetohim
andhugme,soItakeaquickstepawayfromhim.
Andjustlikethat,thewallisbackupbetweenus.
Allowinghimbackinsidethisapartmentwasahugestepformeinitself.Heneedstorealizethat.
Hehideswhateverrejectionhe’sfeelingwithastoicexpression.Hetucksthetoolboxunderhisarmandthengrabstheboxthecribcamein.It’sfilledwithallthetrashfrom
everythingheopenedandputtogether.“I’lltakethistotheDumpster,”hesays,walkingtowardthedoor.“Ifyouneedhelpwithanythingelse,justletmeknow,
okay?”
Inodandsomehowmutter,“Thankyou.”
WhenIhearthefrontdoorclose,Iturnbackandfacethecrib.Myeyesfillwithtears,andnotformyselfthistime.Notforthebaby.
IcryforRyle.Becauseeventhoughhe’sresponsibleforthesituationhe’sin,Iknowhowsadheisaboutit.Andwhenyoulovesomeone,seeingthemsadalsomakesyousad.
Neitherofusbroughtupourseparationorevenachanceatreconciliation.Wedidn’teventalkaboutwhat’sgoingtohappenwhenthisbabyisbornintenweeks.
I’mjustnotreadyforthatconversationyetandtheleasthecandoformerightnowisshowmepatience.
Thepatiencehestillowesmefromallthetimeshehadnone.ChapterThirty-Four
Ifinishrinsingthepaintoutofthebrushesandthenwalkbacktothenurserytoadmirethemural.Ispentmostofyesterdayandalloftodaypaintingit.
It’sbeentwoweekssinceRylecameoverandputthecribtogether.NowthatthemuralisfinishedandIbroughtinafewplantsfromthestore,Ifeellikethenurseryisfinally
complete.Ilookaroundandfeelalittlesadthatnooneisheretoadmiretheroomwithme.IgrabmyphoneandtextAllysa.
Me:Muralisfinished!Youshouldcomedownandlookatit.
Allysa:I’mnothome.Runningerrands.I’llcomelookatittomorrow,though
Ifrownanddecidetotextmymother.Shehastoworktomorrow,butIknowshe’llbejustasexcitedtoseeitasIwastofinishit.
Me:Feellikedrivingintotowntonight?Thenurseryisfinallyfinished.
Mom:Can’t.Recitalnightatschool.I’llbeherelate.Ican’twaittoseeit!I’llcomebytomorrow!
IsitdownintherockingchairandknowthatIshouldn’tdowhatI’mabouttodo,butIdoitanyway.
Me:Thenurseryisfinished.Doyouwanttocomelookatit?
EverynerveinmybodyspringstolifeassoonasIhitSend.Istareatmyphoneuntilhisreplycomesthrough.
Ryle:Ofcourse.Onmywaydownnow.
Iimmediatelystandupandbeginmakinglastminutetouches.Ifluffthepillowsontheloveseatandstraightenoneofthewallhangings.I’mbarelytothefrontdoorwhenIhearhis
knock.Iopenitanddammit.He’swearingscrubs.
Istepasideashemakeshiswayin.
“Allysasaidyouwerepaintingamural?”
Ifollowhimdownthehallwaytowardthenursery.
“It’stakentwodaystofinish,”Itellhim.“MybodyfeelslikeIranamarathonandallIdidwaswalkupanddownastepladderafewtimes.”
HeglancesoverhisshoulderandIcanseetheconcerninhisexpression.He’sworriedthatIwasheredoingitallonmyown.Heshouldn’tworry.I’vegotthis.
Whenwemakeittothenursery,hestopsinthedoorway.Ontheoppositewall,Ipaintedagarden.It’scompletewithalmosteveryfruitandvegetableIcouldthinkofthatgrowsina
garden.I’mnotapainter,butit’samazingwhatyoucandowithaprojectorandtransparentpaper.
“Wow,”Rylesays.
Igrin,becauseIrecognizethesurpriseinhisvoiceandIknowit’sgenuine.Hewalksintotheroomandlooksaround,shakinghisheadthewholetime.“Lily.
It’s…wow.”
IfhewereAllysa,I’dclapandjumpupanddown.Buthe’sRyleandwiththewaythingshavebeenbetweenus,thatwouldbealittleawkward.
HewalksovertothewindowwhereIsetupaswing.Hegivesitalittlepushanditbeginsmovingfromsidetoside.
“Italsomovesfronttoback,”Itellhim.Idon’tknowifheevenknowsanythingaboutbabyswings,butIwasprettyimpressedbythatfeature.
Hewalksovertothechangingtableandpullsoneofthediapersoutoftheholder.Heunfoldsitandholdsitupinfrontofhim.“It’ssotiny,”hesays.“Idon’t
rememberRyleebeingthistiny.”
HearinghimmentionRyleemakesmealittlesad.We’vebeenlivingapartsincethenightshewasborn,soI’veneverbeenabletoseehiminteractwithher.
Rylefoldsupthediaperandputsitbackintheholder.Whenheturnstofaceme,hesmiles,liftinghishandstomotionaroundtheroom.“It’sreallygreat,Lily,”hesays.
“Allofit.You’rereallydoing…”Hishandsdroptohishipsandhissmilefalters.“You’redoingreallywell.”
Athicknessseemstoformintheairaroundme.It’ssuddenlydifficulttotakeinafullbreathbecauseforwhateverreason,IfeellikeIneedtocry.Ijustreallylikethismomentand
itsaddensmethatwecouldn’tspendtheentirepregnancyfullofmomentslikethese.Itfeelsgoodsharingthiswithhim,butI’malsoscaredImightbegivinghimfalsehope.
Nowthathe’shereandhesawthenursery,I’mnotsurewhattodonext.It’sglaringlyobviousthatweneedtodiscussalotofthings,butIhavenoideawheretostart.Or
how.
Iwalkovertotherockingchairandtakeaseat.“Nakedtruth?”Isay,lookingupathim.
Heexhalesahugebreathandnods,thentakesaseatonthesofa.“Please.Lily,pleasetellmeyou’rereadytotalkaboutthis.”
Hisreactioneasesmynervesalittle,knowinghe’sreadytodiscusseverything.Iwrapmyarmsaroundmystomachandleanforwardintherockingchair.“Yougofirst.”
Heclaspshishandstogetherbetweenhisknees.Helooksatmewithsomuchsincerity,Ihavetoglanceaway.
“Idon’tknowwhatyouwantfromme,Lily.Idon’tknowwhatroleyouwantmetohave.I’mtryingtogiveyouallthespaceyouneed,butatthesametimeIwanttohelp
morethanyoupossiblyknow.Iwanttobeinourbaby’slife.IwanttobeyourhusbandandIwanttobegoodatit.ButIhavenoideawhat’sgoingthroughyourhead.”
Hiswordsfillmewithguilt.Despitewhathashappenedbetweenusinthepast,he’sstillthisbaby’sfather.Hehasthelegalrighttobeafather,nomatterhowIfeelaboutit.
AndIwanthimtobeafather.Iwanthimtobeagoodfather.Butdeepdown,I’mstillholdingontooneofmybiggestfears,andIknowI
needtotalktohimaboutit.
“Iwouldneverkeepyoufromyourchild,Ryle.I’mhappyyouwanttobeinvolved.But…”
Heleansforwardandburieshisfaceinhishandswiththatlastword.
“WhatkindofmotherwouldIbeifasmallpartofmedoesn’thaveconcerninregardtoyourtemper?Thewayyoulosecontrol?HowdoIknowsomethingwon’tsetyouoffwhile
you’realonewiththisbaby?”
Somuchagonyfloodshiseyes,Ithinktheymightburstlikedams.Hebeginstoshakehisheadadamantly.“Lily,Iwouldnever…”
“Iknow,Ryle.Youwouldneverintentionallyhurtyourownchild.Idon’tevenbelieveitwasintentionalwhenyouhurtme,butyoudid.Andtrustme,Iwanttobelievethatyou
wouldneverdosomethinglikethat.Myfatherwasonlyabusivetowardmymother.Therearemanymen—womeneven—whoabusetheirsignificantotherswithoutever
losingtheirtemperwithanyoneelse.Iwanttobelieveyourwordswithallmyheart,butyouhavetounderstandwheremyhesitationcomesin.I’llneverdenyyouarelationshipwithyour
child.ButI’mgoingtoneedyoutobereallypatientwithmewhileyourebuildallthetrustyou’vebroken.”
Henodsinagreement.HehastoknowthatI’mgivinghimmuchmorethanhedeserves.“Absolutely,”hesays.“Thisisonyourterms.Everythingisonyourterms,
okay?”
Ryle’shandscometogetheragainandhebeginstochewnervouslyonhisbottomlip.Isensehehasmoretosay,buthe’sdoubtingwhetherornotheshouldsayit.
“Goaheadandsaywhateveryou’rethinkingwhileI’minthemoodtotalkaboutit.”
Hetiltshisheadbackandlooksupattheceiling.Whateveritis,it’shardforhim.Idon’tknowifit’sbecausethequestionishardtoaskorbecausehe’sscaredof
theanswerImightgivehim.
“Whataboutus?”hewhispers.
Ileanmyheadbackandsigh.Iknewthisquestionwouldcome,butit’sreallydifficulttogivehimananswerIdon’thave.Divorceorreconciliationarereallytheonlytwooptions
wehave,butneitherisachoiceIwanttomake.
“Idon’twanttogiveyoufalsehope,Ryle,”Isayquietly.“IfIhadtomakeachoicetoday…I’dprobablychoosedivorce.Butinallhonesty,I
don’tknowifIwouldbemakingthatchoicebecauseI’moverloadedwithpregnancyhormonesorbecauseit’swhatIreallywant.Idon’tthinkitwouldbefairtoeitherofus
ifImadethatdecisionbeforethebirthofthisbaby.”
Heblowsoutashakybreathandthenbringsahanduptothebackofhisneck,squeezingtightly.Thenhestandsupandfacesme.“Thankyou,”hesays.“Forinvitingmeover.
Fortheconversation.I’vebeenwantingtostopbysinceIwashereacoupleofweeksago,butIdidn’tknowhowyou’dfeelaboutit.”
“Idon’tknowhowIwouldhavefeltaboutit,either,”Isaywithcompletehonesty.Itrytopushmyselfoutoftherockingchair,butforsomereasonit’sbecomealot
harderinthepastweek.Rylewalksoverandreachesformyhandtohelpmeup.
Idon’tknowhowI’msupposedtolastuntilmyduedatewhenIcan’tevengetoutofachairwithoutgrunting.
OnceI’mstanding,hedoesn’timmediatelyreleasemyhand.We’rejustafewinchesapart,andIknowifIlookupathimI’llfeelthings.Idon’twanttofeel
thingsforhim.
Hefindsmyotherhanduntilhe’sholdingbothofthemdownatmysides.HethreadshisfingersthroughmineandIfeelitallthewaytomyheart.Ipressmyforeheadagainsthischest
andclosemyeyes.Hischeekmeetsthetopofmyheadandwestandcompletelystill,bothofustooscaredtomove.I’mscaredtomovebecauseImightbetooweaktostophimfromkissingme.
He’sscaredtomovebecausehe’safraidifhedoes,I’llpullaway.
Forwhatfeelslikefivefullminutes,neitherofusmovesamuscle.
“Ryle,”Ifinallysay.“Canyoupromisemesomething?”
Ifeelhimnod.
“Untilthisbabycomes,pleasedon’ttrytotalkmeintoforgivingyou.Andpleasedon’ttrytokissme…”Ipullawayfrom
hischestandlookupathim.“Iwanttotackleonehugethingatatime,andrightnowmyonlypriorityishavingthisbaby.Idon’twanttoaddanymorestressorconfusionontopof
everythingthat’salreadyhappening.”
Hesqueezesbothofmyhandsreassuringly.“Onemonumentallife-changingthingatatime.Gotit.”
Ismile,relievedthatwe’vefinallyhadthisconversation.IknowIdidn’tmakeafinaldecisionaboutthetwoofus,butIstillfeellikeIcanbreatheeasiernowthatwe’re
onthesamepage.
Hereleasesmyhands.“I’mlateformyshift,”hesays,tossingathumboverhisshoulder.“Ishouldgettowork.”
Inodandseehimout.Itisn’tuntilafterI’veshutthedoorandamaloneinmyapartmentthatIrealizeIhaveasmileonmyface.
I’mstillincrediblyangrywithhimthatwe’reeveninthispredicamenttobeginwith,somysmileissimplyduetomakingalittleheadway.Sometimesparentshavetoworkthrough
theirdifferencesandbringalevelofmaturityintoasituationinordertodowhat’sbestfortheirchild.
That’sexactlywhatwe’redoing.Learninghowtonavigateoursituationbeforeourchildisbroughtintothefold.ChapterThirty-Five
Ismelltoast.
Istretchoutonmybedandsmile,becauseRyleknowstoastismyfavorite.IliehereforawhilebeforeIevenattempttogetup.Itfeelslikeittakestheeffortofthreementorollmeout
ofbed.Ieventuallytakeadeepbreath,andthenthrowmyfeetovertheside,pushingmyselfupfromthemattress
ThefirstthingIdoispee.It’sreallyallIdonow.I’mdueintwodaysandmydoctorsaysitcouldbeanotherweek.Istartedmaternityleavelastweek,sothisismyliferight
now.IpeeandwatchTV.
WhenImakeittothekitchen,Ryleisstirringapanofscrambledeggs.Hespinsaroundwhenhehearsmewalkin.“Goodmorning,”hesays.“Nobabyyet?”
Ishakemyheadandputmyhandonmystomach.“No,butIpeedninetimeslastnight.”
Rylelaughs.“That’sanewrecord.”Hespoonssomeeggsontoaplateandthentossesbaconandtoastonit.Heturnsaroundandhandsmetheplate,pressingaquickkisstothe
sideofmyhead.“Igottago.I’malreadylate.I’mleavingmyphoneonallday.”
IsmilewhenIlookdownatmybreakfast.Okay,soIeat,too.Pee,eat,andwatchTV.
“Thankyou,”Isaycheerfully.ItakemyplatetothecouchandturnontheTV.Rylerushesaroundthelivingroom,gatheringhisstuff.
“I’llcomecheckonyouatlunch.Imightbeworkinglatetonight,butAllysasaidshecanbringyoudinner.”
Irollmyeyes.“I’mfine,Ryle.Thedoctorsaidlightbedrest,notcompletedebilitation.”
Hestartstoopenthedoor,butpauseslikeheforgetssomething.Herunsbacktowardmeandleansdown,plantinghislipsonmystomach.“I’lldoubleyourallowanceifyoudecideto
comeouttoday,”hesaystothebaby.
Hetalkstothebabyalot.Ifinallyfeltcomfortableenoughtolethimfeelthebabykickacoupleofweeksagoandsincethen,hestopsbysometimesjusttotalktomybellyanddoesn’t
evensaymuchtome.Ilikeit,though.Ilikehowexcitedheistobeafather
IgrabtheblanketRylesleptonthecouchwithlastnightandwrapitoverme.He’sbeenstayinghereforaweeknow,waitingformetogointolabor.Iwasn’tsureaboutthe
arrangementatfirst,butit’sactuallybeenreallyhelpful.Istillsleepintheguestbedroom.Thethirdbedroomisnowanursery,whichmeansthemasterbedroomisavailableforhimto
sleepin.Butforwhateverreason,hechoosestosleeponthecouch.Ithinkthememoriesinthatbedroomplaguehimjustasmuchastheyplagueme,soneitherofusevenbothersgoingin
there.
Thelastseveralweekshavebeenreallygood.Asidefromthefactthatthere’sabsolutelynophysicalrelationshipbetweenusatthispoint,thingsfeellikethey’vekindofgone
backtohowtheyusedtobe.Hestillworksalot,butontheeveningshe’soff,I’vestartedhavingdinnerupstairswithallofthem.Wenevereataloneasacouple,though.Anything
thatmightfeellikeadateoracouplesthing,Iavoid.I’mstilltryingtofocusononemonumentalthingatatime,anduntilthisbabyisbornandmyhormonesarebacktonormal,Irefuse
tomakeadecisionaboutmymarriage.I’msureI’mjustusingthepregnancyasanexcusetostalltheinevitable,butbeingpregnantallowsapersontobealittleselfish.
Myphonebeginstoring,andIdropmyheadintothecouchandgroan.Myphoneisallthewayinthekitchen.That’slikefifteenfeetfromhere.
Ugh.
Ipushmyselfoffthecouch,butnothinghappens.
Itryitagain.Stillsitting.
Igrabholdofthearmofmychairandpullmyselfup.Thirdtime’sthecharm.
WhenIstand,myglassofwaterspillsalloverme.Igroan…butthenIgasp.
Iwasn’tholdingaglassofwater.
Holyshit.
Ilookdownandwateristricklingdownmyleg.Myphoneisstillringingonthekitchencounter.Iwalk—orwaddle—tothekitchenandanswerit.
“Hello?”
“Hey,it’sLucy!Quickquestion.Ourorderofredroseswasdamagedinshipment,butwe’vegottheLevenbergfuneraltodayandtheyspecificallywantedredrosesforthecasket
spray.Dowehaveabackupplan?”
“Yeah,callthefloristonBroadway.Theyowemeafavor.”
“Okay,thanks!”
IstarttohangupsoIcancallRyleandtellhimmywaterbroke,butIhearLucysay,“Wait!”
Ipullthephonebacktomyear.
“Abouttheseinvoices.Didyouwantmetopaythemtodayorwait…”
“Youcanwait,it’sfine.”
Again,Istarttohangupbutsheyellsmynameandstartsfiringoffanotherquestion.
“Lucy,”Isaycalmly,interruptingher.“I’llhavetocallyouaboutallthistomorrow.Ithinkmywaterjustbroke.”
There’sapause.“Oh.OH!GO!”
Ihanguprightwhenthefirstsignofpainshootsthroughmystomach.IwinceandstartdialingRyle’snumber.Hepicksuponthefirstring.
“DoIneedtoturnaround?”
“Yes.”
“Oh,God.Really?It’shappening?”
“Yes.”
“Lily!”hesays,excited.Andthenthephonegoesdead.
IspendthenextfewminutesgatheringeverythingI’llneed.Ialreadyhaveahospitalbag,butIfeelkindofgross,soIjumpintheshowertorinseoff.Thesecondburstofpaincomes
abouttenminutesafterthefirst.Ibendforwardandclenchmystomach,lettingthewaterbeatdownonmyback.RightwhenIneartheendofthecontraction,Ihearthebathroomdoorswing
open.
“You’reintheshower?”Rylesays.“Lily,getoutoftheshower,let’sgo!”
“Handmeatowel.”
Ryle’shandappearsaroundtheshowercurtainafewsecondslater.Itrytofitthetowelaroundmebeforepullingtheshowercurtainaside.It’sodd,hidingyourbodyfromyourown
husband
Thetoweldoesn’tfit.Itcoversupmyboobsbutthenopenslikeanupside-downVovermystomach.
AnothercontractionhitsasI’msteppingoutoftheshower.Rylegrabsmyhandandhelpsmebreathethroughit,thenwalksmeintothebedroom.I’mcalmlypickingoutcleanclothes
toweartothehospitalwhenIglanceoverathim.
He’sstaringatmystomach.There’salookonhisfaceIcan’tdecipher.
HiseyesmeetmineandIpausewhatI’mdoing.
There’samomentthatpassesbetweenuswhereIcan’ttellifhe’sabouttofrownorsmile.Hisfacetwistsintobothsomehow,andheblowsoutaquickbreath,droppinghis
eyesbacktomystomach.“You’rebeautiful,”hewhispers.
Apangshootsthroughmychestthathasnothingtodowiththecontractions.Irealizethisisthefirsttimehe’sseenmybarestomach.It’sthefirsttimehe’switnessedwhat
Ilooklikewithhisbabygrowinginsideofme.
Iwalkovertohimandtakehishand.Iplaceitonmystomachandholditthere.Hesmilesatme,brushinghisthumbbackandforth.It’sabeautifulmoment.Oneofourbetter
moments.
“Thankyou,Lily.”
It’swrittenalloverhim,thewayhe’stouchingmystomach,thewayhiseyesarelookingbackatmine.He’snotthankingmeforthismoment,oranymomentthatcamebefore
thisone.He’sthankingmeforallthemomentsI’mallowinghimtohavewithhischild.
Igroan,leaningforward.“Fuckinghell.”
Themomentisover.
Rylegrabsmyclothesandhelpsmeintothem.HepicksupallthethingsItellhimtocarryandthenwemakeourwaytotheelevator.Slowly.Ihaveacontractionwhenwe’rehalfway
there.
“YoushouldcallAllysa,”Itellhimwhenwepulloutoftheparkinggarage.
“I’mdriving.I’llcallherwhenwegettothehospital.Andyourmom.”
Inod.I’msureIcouldcallthemrightnow,butIkindofjustwanttomakesurewemakeittothehospitalfirst,becauseitfeelslikethisbabyisbeingreallyimpatientandwantsto
makeitsdebutrighthereinthecar.
Wemakeittothehospital,butmycontractionsarelessthanaminuteapartwhenwearrive.Bythetimethedoctorscrubsinandtheygetmetoabed,I’mdilatedtoanine.It’s
onlyfiveminuteslaterwhenI’mbeingtoldtopush.Ryledoesn’tevenhaveachancetocallanyone,itallhappenssofast.
IsqueezeRyle’shandwitheverypush.Atonepoint,IthinkabouthowimportantthehandI’msqueezingistohiscareer,buthesaysnothing.Hejustallowsmetosqueezeitashard
asIpossiblycan,andthat’sexactlywhatIdo.
“Theheadisalmostout,”thedoctorsays.“Justafewmorepushes.”
Ican’tevendescribethenextfewminutes.It’sablurofpainandheavybreathingandanxietyandpure,unequivocalelation.Andpressure.Suchanenormouspressure,likeI’m
abouttoimplode,andthen,“It’sagirl!”Rylesays.“Lily,wehaveadaughter!”
Iopenmyeyesandthedoctorisholdingherup.Icanonlymakeouttheoutlineofher,becausemyeyesarefulloftoomanytears.Whentheylayheronmychest,it’stheabsolute
greatestmomentofmylife.Iimmediatelytouchherredlipsandcheeksandfingers.Rylecutstheumbilicalcord,andwhentheytakeherfrommetocleanherup,Ifeelempty.
Afewminuteslatershe’sbackonmychestagain,swaddledinablanket.
Icandonothingbutstareather.
Rylesitsonthebednexttomeandpullstheblanketdownaroundherchinsowecangetabetterlookatherface.Wecountherfingersandhertoes.Shetriestoopenhereyesandwethink
it’sthefunniestthingintheworld.Sheyawnsandwebothsmileandfallevenmoreinlovewithher.
Afterthelastnurseleavestheroomandwe’refinallyalone,Ryleasksifhecanholdher.Heraisestheheadofmybedtomakeiteasierforbothofustositonthebed.AfterIhand
hertohim,Ilaymyheadonhisshoulderandwejustcan’tstopstaringather.
“Lily,”hewhispers.“Nakedtruth?”
Inod.
“She’ssomuchprettierthanMarshallandAllysa’sbaby.”
Ilaughandelbowhim.
“I’mkidding,”hewhispers.
Iknowexactlywhathemeans,though.Ryleeisagorgeousbaby,butnoonewilleverholdacandletoourowndaughter.
“Whatshouldwenameher?”heasks.Wedidn’thavethetypicalrelationshipduringthispregnancy,sothebaby’snamehasn’tbeensomethingwe’vediscussed
yet.
“I’dliketonameherafteryoursister,”Isay,glancingathim.“Ormaybeyourbrother?”
I’mnotsurewhathethinksofthat.Ipersonallythinknamingourdaughterafterhisbrothercouldbesomewhathealingforhim,buthemaynotseeitthatway.
Heglancesoveratme,notexpectingthatanswer.“Emerson?”hesays.“That’skindofcuteforagirlname.WecouldcallherEmma.OrEmmy.”Hesmilesproudlyand
looksdownather.“It’sperfect,actually.”HeleansdownandkissesEmersononherforehead.
Afterawhile,IpullawayfromhisshouldersoIcanwatchhimholdher.It’sabeautifulthing,seeinghiminteractwithherlikethis.Icanalreadyseehowmuchlovehehasforher
justfromthelittletimehe’sknownher.Icanseethathewoulddoanythingtoprotecther.Anythingintheworld.
Itisn’tuntilthismomentthatIfinallymakeadecisionabouthim.
Aboutus.
Aboutwhat’sbestforourfamily.
Ryleisamazinginsomanyways.He’scompassionate.He’scaring.He’ssmart.He’scharismatic.He’sdriven.
Myfatherwassomeofthesethings,too.Hewasn’tverycompassionatetowardothers,butthereweretimeswespenttogetherthatIknewhelovedme.Hewassmart.Hewascharismatic.He
wasdriven.ButIhatedhimsomuchmorethanIlovedhim.IwasblindedtoallthebestthingsabouthimthankstoalltheglimpsesIgotofhimwhenhewasathisworst.Fiveminutesof
witnessinghimathisworstcouldn’tmakeupforevenfiveyearsofhimathisbest.
IlookatEmersonandIlookatRyle.AndIknowthatIhavetodowhat’sbestforher.FortherelationshipIhopeshebuildswithherfather.Idon’tmakethisdecisionformeand
Idon’tmakeitforRyle.
Imakeitforher.
“Ryle?”
Whenheglancesatme,he’ssmiling.Butwhenheassessesthelookonmyface,hestops.
“Iwantadivorce.”
Heblinkstwice.Mywordshithimlikevoltage.Hewincesandlooksbackdownatourdaughter,hisshouldershunchedforward.“Lily,”hesays,shakinghisheadbackandforth.
“Pleasedon’tdothis.”
Hisvoiceispleading,andIhatethathe’sbeenholdingontohopethatIwouldeventuallytakehimback.That’spartlymyfault,Iknow,butIdon’tthinkIrealizedwhat
choiceIwasgoingtomakeuntilIheldmydaughterforthefirsttime.
“Justonemorechance,Lily.Please.”Hisvoicecrackswithtearswhenhespeaks.
IknowI’mhurtinghimattheworstpossibletime.I’mbreakinghisheartwhenthisshouldbethebestmomentofhislife.ButIknowifIdon’tdoitinthismoment,Imight
neverbeabletoconvincehimofwhyIcan’trisktakinghimback.
Ibegintocrybecausethisishurtingmeasmuchasit’shurtinghim.“Ryle,”Isaygently.“Whatwouldyoudo?Ifoneofthesedays,thislittlegirllookedupatyou
andshesaid,‘Daddy?Myboyfriendhitme.’Whatwouldyousaytoher,Ryle?”
HepullsEmersontohischestandburieshisfaceagainstthetopofherblanket.“Stop,Lily,”hebegs.
Ipushmyselfupstraighteronthebed.IplacemyhandonEmerson’sbackandtrytogetRyletolookmeintheeyes.“Whatifshecametoyouandsaid,‘Daddy?Myhusbandpushedmedownthestairs.Hesaiditwasanaccident.WhatshouldIdo?’?”
Hisshouldersbegintoshake,andforthefirsttimesincethedayImethim,hehastears.Realtearsthatrushdownhischeeksasheholdshisdaughtertightlyagainsthim.I’mcrying,
too,butIkeepgoing.Forhersake.
“Whatif…”Myvoicebreaks.“Whatifshecametoyouandsaid,‘Myhusbandtriedtorapeme,Daddy.HeheldmedownwhileIbegged
himtostop.Butheswearshe’llneverdoitagain.WhatshouldIdo,Daddy?’?”
He’skissingherforehead,overandover,tearsspillingdownhisface.
“Whatwouldyousaytoher,Ryle?Tellme.Ineedtoknowwhatyouwouldsaytoourdaughterifthemansheloveswithallherhearteverhurtsher.”
Asobbreaksfromhischest.Heleanstowardmeandwrapsanarmaroundme.“Iwouldbeghertoleavehim,”hesaysthroughhistears.Hislipspressdesperatelyagainstmyforehead
andIcanfeelsomeofhistearsastheyfallontomycheeks.Hemoveshismouthtomyearandcradlesbothofusagainsthim.“Iwouldtellherthatsheisworthso
muchmore.AndIwouldbeghernottogoback,nomatterhowmuchhelovesher.She’sworthsomuchmore.”
Webecomeasobbingmessoftearsandbrokenheartsandshattereddreams.Weholdeachother.Weholdourdaughter.Andashardasthischoiceis,webreakthepatternbeforethepatternbreaks
us.
Hehandsherbacktomeandwipeshiseyes.Hestandsup,stillcrying.Stilltryingtocatchhisbreath.Inthelastfifteenminutes,helosttheloveofhislife.Inthelastfifteenminutes,
hebecameafathertoabeautifullittlegirl.
That’swhatfifteenminutescandotoaperson.Itcandestroythem.
Itcansavethem.
Hepointstowardthehallway,lettingmeknowheneedstogogatherhimself.He’ssadderthanI’veeverseenhimashewalkstowardthedoor.ButIknowhe’llthankmeforthis
oneday.Iknowthedaywillcomewhenhe’llunderstandthatImadetherightchoicebyhisdaughter.
Whenthedoorclosesbehindhim,Ilookdownather.IknowI’mnotgivingherthelifeIdreamedforher.Ahomewheresheliveswithbothparentswhocanloveherandraisehertogether.
ButIdon’twanthertolivelikeIlived.Idon’twanthertoseeherfatherathisworst.Idon’twanthertoseehimwhenheloseshistemperwithmetothepointthatsheno
longerrecognizeshimasherfather.BecausenomatterhowmanygoodmomentsshemightsharewithRylethroughoutherlifetime,Iknowfromexperiencethatitwouldonlybetheworstonesthat
stuckwithher.
Cyclesexistbecausetheyareexcruciatingtobreak.Ittakesanastronomicalamountofpainandcouragetodisruptafamiliarpattern.Sometimesitseemseasiertojustkeeprunninginthesame
familiarcircles,ratherthanfacingthefearofjumpingandpossiblynotlandingonyourfeet.
Mymotherwentthroughit.
Iwentthroughit.
I’llbedamnedifIallowmydaughtertogothroughit.
Ikissherontheforeheadandmakeherapromise.“Itstopshere.Withmeandyou.Itendswithus.”Epilogue
IpushthroughthecrowdsofBoylstonStreetuntilIgettothecrossstreet.Ipullthestrollertoacrawlandthenstopattheedgeofthecurb.Ipullthetopofitback
andlookdownatEmmy.She’skickingherfeetandsmilinglikeusual.She’saveryhappybaby.Shehasacalmenergyaboutherandit’saddictive.
“Howoldisshe?”awomanasks.She’sstandingatthecrosswalkwithus,staringdownatEmersonappreciatively
“Elevenmonths.”
“She’sgorgeous,”shesays.“Looksjustlikeyou.Identicalmouths.”
Ismile.“Thankyou.Butyoushouldseeherfather.Shedefinitelyhashiseyes.”
Thesignflashestowalk,andItrytobeatthecrowdaswerushacrossthestreet.I’malreadyhalfanhourlateandRylehastextedmetwice.Hehasn’texperiencedthejoyof
carrotsyet,though.He’llfindouttodayjusthowmessytheyare,becauseIpackedplentyinherbag.
ImovedoutoftheapartmentRyleboughtwhenEmersonwasthreemonthsold.IgotmyownplaceclosertomyworksoI’mwithinwalkingdistance,whichisgreat.Rylemovedbackintothe
apartmenthebought,butbetweenvisitingAllysa’splaceandRyle’sdayswithEmerson,IfeellikeI’mstillattheirapartmentbuildingalmostasmuchasI’matmine.
“Almostthere,Emmy.”WemakearightaroundthecornerandI’minsucharush,amanhastostepoutofourwayandintothewalljusttoavoidbeingplowedover.
“Sorry,”Imutter,duckingmyheadandmakingmywayaroundhim.
“Lily?”
Istop.
Iturnslowly,becauseIfeltthatvoiceallthewaytomytoes.Thereareonlytwovoicesthathaveeverdonethattome,andRyle’sdoesn’treachthatfaranymore.
WhenIlookbackathim,hisblueeyesaresquintingagainstthesun.Heliftsahandtoshielditandhegrins.“Hey.”
“Hi,”Isay,myfrenziedbraintryingtoslowdownandallowmetoplaycatch-up.
Heglancesatthestrollerandpointsatit.“Isthat…isthisyourbaby?”
Inodandhewalksaroundtothefrontofthestroller.Hekneelsdownandsmileswidelyather.“Wow.She’sgorgeous,Lily,”hesays.“What’shername?”
“Emerson.WecallherEmmysometimes.”
Heputshisfingerinherhandandshestartskicking,shakinghisfingerbackandforth.Hestaresatherappreciativelyforamomentandthenstandsbackupagain.
“Youlookgreat,”hesays.
Itrynottogivehimanobviousonce-over,butit’shard.Helooksasgoodasever,butthisisthefirsttimeseeinghimthatI’mnottryingtodenyhowgorgeousheturnedoutto
be.Afarcryfromthathomelessboyinmybedroom.Yet…somehowstillexactlythesame.
Icanfeelthebuzzofmytextmessagegoingoffinmypocketagain.Ryle.
Ipointdownthestreet.“We’rereallylate,”Isay.“Rylehasbeenwaitingforhalfanhour.”
WhenIsayRyle’sname,there’sasadnessthatreachesAtlas’seyes,buthetriestodisguiseit.Henodsandslowlystepsasideforustopass.
“It’shisdaytohaveher,”Iclarify,sayingmoreinthosesixwordsthanIcouldinmostfullconversations.
Iseethereliefflashinhiseyes.Henodsandpointsbehindhim.“Yeah,I’mrunninglate,too.OpenedanewrestaurantonBoylstonlastmonth.”
“Wow.Congratulations.I’llhavetotakeMomtheretocheckitoutsoon.”
Hesmiles.“Youshould.LetmeknowandI’llmakesureandcookforyoumyself.”
There’sanawkwardpause,andthenIpointdownthestreet.“Wehaveto…”
“Go,”hesayswithasmile.
Inodagainandthenduckmyheadandcontinuewalking.IhavenoideawhyI’mreactingthisway.LikeIdon’tknowhowtoholdanormalconversation.WhenI’mseveralyards
away,Iglancebackovermyshoulder.Hehasn’tmoved.He’sstillwatchingmeasIwalkaway.
WeroundthecornerandIseeRylewaitingbesidehiscaroutsidethefloralshop.Hisfacelightsupwhenheseesusapproaching.“Didyougetmyemail?”Hekneelsdownandbegins
tounstrapEmerson.
“Yeah,abouttheplaypenrecall?”
Henodsashepullsheroutofthestroller.“Didn’twebuyoneofthoseforher?”
Ipressthebuttonstofoldthestrollerandthenwalkittothebackofhiscar.“Yeah,butitbrokelikeamonthago.IthrewitintheDumpster.”
Hepopsthetrunk,andthentouchesEmerson’schinwithhisfingers.“Didyouhearthat,Emmy?Yourmommysavedyourlife.”Shesmilesupathimandslapsplayfullyathis
hand.Hekissesherontheforeheadandthenpicksupherstrollerandtossesitinthetrunk.Islamthetrunkshutandleanovertogiveheraquickkiss.
“Loveyou,Emmy.Seeyoutonight.”
Ryleopensthebackdoortoputherinthecarseat.ItellhimgoodbyeandthenIstarttoheadbackdownthestreetinarush.
“Lily!”heyells.“Whereareyougoing?”
I’msureheexpectedmetowalktothefrontdoorofmystore,sinceI’malreadylateopeningit.Iprobablyshould,butthenagginginmygutwon’tgoaway.Ineedtodo
somethingaboutit.Ispinaroundandwalkbackward.“There’ssomethingIforgottodo!I’llseeyouwhenIpickheruptonight!”
RyleliftsEmerson’shandandtheywavegoodbyetome.AssoonasIroundthecorner,Ibreakoutintoasprint.Idodgepeople,bumpintoafewandcauseoneladytocurseatme,but
it’sallworthitthemomentIseethebackofhishead.
“Atlas!”Iyell.He’sheadingintheotherdirection,soIkeeppushingthroughthecrowd.“Atlas!”
Hestopswalkingbuthedoesn’tturnaround.Hecockshisheadlikehedoesn’twanttofullytrusthisears.
“Atlas!”Iyellagain.
Thistimewhenheturns,heturnswithpurpose.Hiseyesmeetmineandthere’sathree-secondpausewhilewebothstareateachother.Butthenwebothstartwalkingtowardeachother,
determinationineverystep.Twentystepsseparateus.
Ten.
Five.
One.
Neitherofustakesthatfinalstep.
I’moutofbreath,pantingandnervous.“IforgottotellyouEmerson’smiddlename.”Iputmyhandsonmyhipsandexhale.“It’sDory.”
Hedoesn’timmediatelyreact,butthenhiseyescrinklealittleinthecorners.Hismouthtwitcheslikehe’sforcingbackasmile.“Whataperfectnameforher.”
Inod,andsmile,andthenstop.
I’mnotsurewhattodonow.Ijustneededhimtoknowthat,butnowthatI’vetoldhim,Ididn’treallythinkofwhatI’ddoorsaynext.
Inodagain,andthenglancearoundme,throwingathumbovermyshoulder.“Well…IguessI’ll…”
Atlasstepsforward,grabsme,andpullsmehardagainsthischest.Iimmediatelyclosemyeyeswhenhewrapshisarmsaroundme.Hishandgoesuptothebackofmyheadandheholdsmestill
againsthimaswestand,surroundedbybusystreets,blastsofhorns,peoplebrushingusastheypassinahurry.Hepressesagentlekissintomyhair,andallofthatfadesaway.
“Lily,”hesaysquietly.“Ifeellikemylifeisgoodenoughforyounow.Sowheneveryou’reready…”
Iclenchhisjacketinmyhandsandkeepmyfacepressedtightagainsthischest.IsuddenlyfeellikeI’mfifteenagain.Myneckandcheeksflushfromhiswords.
ButI’mnotfifteen.
I’manadultwithresponsibilitiesandachild.Ican’tjustallowmyteenagefeelingstotakeover.Notwithoutalittlereassurance,atleast.
Ipullbackandlookupathim.“Doyoudonatetocharity?”
Atlaslaughswithconfusion.“Several.Why?”
“Doyouwantkidssomeday?”
Henods.“OfcourseIdo.”
“Doyouthinkyou’lleverwanttoleaveBoston?”
Heshakeshishead.“No.Never.Everythingisbetterhere,remember?”
HisanswersgivemethereassuranceIneed.Ismileupathim.“Okay.I’mready.”
HepullsmetightagainsthimandIlaugh.Witheverythingthathashappenedsincethedayhecameintomylife,Ineverexpectedthisoutcome.I’vehopedforitalot,butuntilnowI
wasn’tsureifitwouldeverhappen.
IclosemyeyeswhenIfeelhislipsmeetthespotonmycollarbone.Hepressesagentlekissthereanditfeelsjustlikethefirsttimehekissedmethereallthoseyearsago.Hebringshis
mouthtomyear,andinawhisper,hesays,“Youcanstopswimmingnow,Lily.Wefinallyreachedtheshore.”NotefromtheAuthor
Itisrecommendedthissectionbereadafterreadingthebook,asitcontainsspoilers.
???
Myearliestmemoryinlifewasfromtheageoftwoandahalfyearsold.Mybedroomdidn’thaveadoorandwascoveredbyasheetnailedtothetopofthedoorframe.I
rememberhearingmyfatheryelling,soIpeekedoutfromtheothersideofthesheetjustasmyfatherpickedupourtelevisionandthrewitatmymother,knockingherdown.
ShedivorcedhimbeforeIturnedthree.Everymemorybeyondthatofmyfatherwasagoodone.Heneveroncelosthistemperwithmeormysisters,despitehavingdonesoonnumerousoccasions
withmymother.
Iknewtheirmarriagewasanabusiveone,butmymothernevertalkedaboutit.Todiscussitwouldhavemeantshewastalkingillofmyfatherandthat’ssomethingsheneveroncedid.She
wantedtherelationshipIhadwithhimtobefreeofanystrainthatstoodbetweenthetwoofthem.Becauseofthis,Ihavetheutmostrespectforparentswhodon’tinvolvetheirchildrenin
thedissolutionoftheirrelationships.
Iaskedmyfatherabouttheabuseonce.Hewasverycandidabouttheirrelationship.Hewasanalcoholicduringtheyearshewasmarriedtomymotherandhewasthefirsttoadmithe
didn’ttreatherwell.Infact,hetoldmehehadtwoknucklesreplacedinhishandbecausehehadhithersohard,theybrokeagainstherskull.
Myfatherregrettedthewayhetreatedmymotherhisentirelife.Mistreatingherwastheworstmistakehehadevermadeandhesaidhewouldgrowoldanddiestillmadlyinlovewithher.
Ifeelthatwasaverylightpunishmentforwhatsheendured.
WhenIdecidedIwantedtowritethisstory,Ifirstaskedmymotherforpermission.ItoldherIwantedtowriteitforwomenlikeher.Ialsowantedtowriteitforallthepeoplewho
didn’tquiteunderstandwomenlikeher.
Iwasoneofthosepeople.
ThemotherIknowisnotweak.ShewasnotsomeoneIcouldenvisionforgivingamanformistreatingheronmultipleoccasions.Butwhilewritingthisbookandgettingintothemind-setofLily,
Iquicklyrealizedthatit’snotasblackandwhiteasitseemsfromtheoutside.
Onmorethanoneoccasionwhilewritingthis,Iwantedtochangetheplotline.Ididn’twantRyletobewhohewasgoingtobebecauseIhadfalleninlovewithhiminthosefirstseveral
chapters,justasLilyhadfalleninlovewithhim.Justasmymotherfellinlovewithmyfather.
ThefirstincidentbetweenRyleandLilyinthekitcheniswhathappenedthefirsttimemyfathereverhitmymother.Shewascookingacasseroleandhehadbeendrinking.Hepulledthe
casseroleoutoftheovenwithoutusingapotholder.Shethoughtitwasfunnyandshelaughed.Thenextthingsheknew,hehadhithersohardsheflewacrossthekitchenfloor.
Shechosetoforgivehimforthatoneincident,becausehisapologyandregretwerebelievable.Oratleastbelievableenoughthatgivinghimasecondchancehurtlessthanleavingwithabroken
heartwouldhave.
Overtime,theincidentsthatfollowedweresimilartothefirst.Myfatherwouldrepeatedlyshowremorseandpromisetoneverdoitagain.Itfinallygottoapointwheresheknewhispromises
wereempty,butshewasamotheroftwodaughtersbythenandhadnomoneytoleave.AndunlikeLily,mymotherdidn’thavealotofsupport.Therewerenolocalwomen’sshelters.There
wasverylittlegovernmentsupportbackthen.Toleavemeantriskingnothavingaroofoverourheads,buttoheritwasbetterthanthealternative.
Myfatherpassedawayseveralyearsago,whenIwastwenty-fiveyearsold.Hewasn’tthebestfather.Hecertainlywasn’tthebesthusband.Butthankstomymother,Iwasableto
haveaverycloserelationshipwithhimbecauseshetookthenecessarystepstobreakthepatternbeforeitbrokeus.Anditwasn’teasy.ShelefthimrightbeforeIturnedthreeandmyolder
sisterturnedfive.Welivedoffbeansandmacaroniandcheesefortwosolidyears.Shewasasinglemotherwithoutacollegeeducation,raisingtwodaughtersonherownwithvirtuallynohelp.But
herloveforusgaveherthestrengthsheneededtotakethatterrifyingstep.
BynomeansdoIintendforRyleandLily’ssituationtodefinedomesticabuse.NordoIintendforRyle’scharactertodefinethecharacteristicsofmostabusers.Everysituationis
different.Everyoutcomeisdifferent.IchosetofashionLilyandRyle’sstoryaftermymotherandfather’s.IfashionedRyleaftermyfatherinmanyways.Theyarehandsome,
compassionate,funny,andsmart—butwithmomentsofunforgivablebehavior.
IfashionedLilyaftermymotherinmanyways.Theyarebothcaring,intelligent,strongwomenwhosimplyfellinlovewithmenwhodidn’tdeservetofallinloveatall.
Twoyearsafterdivorcingmyfather,mymothermetmystepfather.Hewastheepitomeofagoodhusband.ThememoriesIhaveofthemgrowingupsetthebarforthetypeofmarriageIwantedfor
myself.
WhenIfinallydidreachthepointofmarriage,thehardestthingIeverhadtodowastellmybiologicalfatherthathewouldn’tbewalkingmedowntheaisle—thatIwasgoingtoask
mystepfather.
IfeltIhadtodothisformanyreasons.Mystepfathersteppedupasahusbandinwaysmyfatherneverdid.Mystepfathersteppedupfinanciallyinwaysmyfatherneverdid.Andmystepfather
raisedusasifwewerehisown,whileneveroncedenyingusarelationshipwithmybiologicalfather.
Iremembersittingdowninmyfather’slivingroomamonthbeforemywedding.ItoldhimIlovedhim,butthatIwasgoingtobeaskingmystepfathertowalkmedowntheaisle.Iwas
preparedforhisresponsewitheveryrebuttalIcouldthinkof.ButtheresponsehegavemewasnothingIexpected.
Henoddedhisheadandsaid,“Colleen,heraisedyou.Hedeservestogiveyouawayatyourwedding.Andyoushouldn’tfeelguiltyaboutit,becauseit’stherightthingto
do.”
Iknewmydecisionabsolutelyguttedmyfather.Buthewasselflessenoughasafathertonotonlyrespectmydecision,buthewantedmetorespectit,too.
Myfathersatintheaudienceatmyweddingandwatchedanothermanwalkmedowntheaisle.IknewpeoplewerewonderingwhyIdidn’tjusthavebothofthemwalkmedowntheaisle,but
lookingbackonit,IrealizeImadethechoiceoutofrespectformymother.
WhoIchosetowalkmedowntheaislewasn’treallyaboutmyfatheranditwasn’tevenreallyaboutmystepfather.Itwasabouther.Iwantedthemanwhotreatedherhowshedeserved
tobetreatedtobegiventhehonorofgivingawayherdaughter.
Inthepast,I’vealwayssaidIwriteforentertainmentpurposesonly.Idon’twritetoeducate,persuade,orinform.
Thisbookisdifferent.Thiswasnotentertainmentforme.ItwasthemostgruelingthingIhaveeverwritten.Attimes,IwantedtohittheDeletebuttonandtakebackthewayRylehadtreated
Lily.IwantedtorewritethesceneswheresheforgavehimandIwantedtoreplacethosesceneswithamoreresilientwoman—acharacterwhomadealltherightdecisionsatalltheright
times.Butthoseweren’tthecharactersIwaswriting.
Thatwasn’tthestoryIwastelling
Iwantedtowritesomethingrealistictothesituationmymotherwasin—asituationalotofwomenfindthemselvesin.IwantedtoexplorethelovebetweenLilyandRylesothatIwould
feelwhatmymotherfeltwhenshehadtomakethedecisiontoleavemyfather—amanshelovedwithallherheart.
Isometimeswonderhowdifferentmylifewouldhavebeenifmymotherhadnotmadethechoiceshedid.Sheleftsomeoneshelovedsothatherdaughterswouldneverthinkthatkindof
relationshipwasokay.Shewasn’trescuedbyanotherman—aknightinshiningarmor.Shetooktheinitiativetoleavemyfatheronherown,knowingshewasabouttoembarkona
completelydifferentkindofstrugglewithaddedstressasasinglemother.ItwasimportanttomethatLily’scharacterembodythissameempowerment.Lilymadetheultimatedecisiontoleave
Ryleforthesakeoftheirdaughter.EventhoughtherewasaslightpossibilitythatRylecouldhaveeventuallychangedforthebetter,somerisksareneverworthtaking.Especiallywhenthose
riskshavefailedyouinthepast.
BeforeIwrotethisbook,Ihadalotofrespectformymother.NowthatI’vefinisheditandwasabletoexploreatinyfractionofthepainandstruggleshewentthroughtogettowhere
sheistoday,Ionlyhaveonethingtosaytoher.
IwanttobeyouwhenIgrowup.Resources
Ifyouareavictimofdomesticviolenceorknowsomeonewhocoulduseassistanceinleavingadangeroussituation,pleasevisit:www.thehotline.org
Foralistofresourcesforhomelessindividuals,pleasevisit:www.homelessresourcenetwork.orgAcknowledgments
Theremayonlybeonenamelistedastheauthorofthisbook,butIcouldn’thavewrittenitwithoutthefollowingpeople:
Mysisters.Iwouldloveyoubothjustasmuchifyouweren’tmysisters.Sharingaparentwithyouisjustanaddedbonus.
Mychildren.Youaremybiggestaccomplishmentinlife.Pleasenevermakemeregretsayingthat.
ToWeblich,CoHorts,TLDiscussionGroup,BookSwap,andalltheothergroupsIcanturntoonlinewhenIneedsomepositiveenergy.YouguysareahugepartofthereasonIcandothisfora
living,sothankyou.
TheentireteamatDystel&GoderichLiteraryManagement.Thankyouforyourcontinuedsupportandencouragement.
EveryoneatAtriaBooks.Thankyouformakingmyreleasedaysmemorableandsomeofthebestdaysofmylife.
JohannaCastillo,myeditor.Thankyouforsupportingthisbook.Thankyouforsupportingme.Thankyouforbeingthebiggestsupporterofmydreamjob.
ToEllenDeGeneres,oneofonlyfourpeopleIhopeInevermeet.Youarelightwherethereisdarkness.LilyandAtlasaregratefulforyourshine.
Mybeta-readersandearlysupportersofeachandeverybook.Yourfeedback,support,andconstantfriendshiparemorethanIdeserve.Iloveyouall.
Tomyniece.Iwillgettomeetyouanydaynow,andI’veneverbeensoexcited.I’mgoingtobeyourfavoriteaunt.
ToLindy.Thankyouforthelifelessonsandtheexamplesofwhatitistobeaselflesshuman.Andthankyouforoneofthemostprofoundquotesthatwillstickwithmeforever.
“Thereisnosuchthingasbadpeople.Wearealljustpeoplewhodobadthings”I’mgratefulmybabysisterhasyouforamother.
ToVance.Thankyouforbeingthehusbandmymotherdeservedandthefatheryoudidn’thavetobe.
Myhusband,Heath.Youaregood,allthewaytoyoursoul.Icouldn’thavechosenabetterpersontofathermychildrenandspendtherestofmylifewith.Weareallsoluckytohave
you.
Tomymother.Youareeverythingtoeveryone.Thatcansometimesbeaburden,butyousomehowseeburdensasblessings.Ourentirefamilythanksyou.
Andlastbutnotleast,tomydamnedol’daddy,Eddie.Youaren’theretoseethisbookcometolife,butIknowyouwouldhavebeenitsbiggestsupporter.Youtaughtmemanythings
inlife—thegreatestbeingthatwedon’thavetoendupthesamepersonweoncewere.Ipromisenottorememberyoubasedonyourworstdays.Iwillrememberyoubasedonthebest,and
thereweremany.Iwillrememberyouasapersonwhowasabletoovercomewhatmanycannot.Thankyouforbecomingoneofmyclosestfriends.Andthankyouforsupportingmeonmyweddingdayina
waythatmanyfatherswouldnothave.Iloveyou.Imissyou.AlsobyColleenHoover
Slammed
PointofRetreat
ThisGirl
Hopeless
LosingHope
FindingCinderella
MaybeSomeday
UglyLove
MaybeNot
Confess
November9FirstpublishedintheUSAbyAtria,animprintofSimon&Schuster,Inc.,2016
ThiseditionfirstpublishedinGreatBritainbySimon&SchusterUKLtd,2016ACBSCOMPANY
Copyright?ColleenHoover,2016
ThisbookiscopyrightundertheBerneConvention.
Noreproductionwithoutpermission.?and?1997Simon&Schuster,Inc.Allrightsreserved.
TherightofColleenHoovertobeidentifiedasauthorofthisworkhasbeenassertedinaccordancewithsections77and78oftheCopyright,DesignsandPatentsAct,