It Starts with Us

ItStartswithUs
Everyendinghasabeginning.
ColleenHoover
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ThisbookisasequeltoItEndswithUsandbeginsrightwherethefirstbookconcluded.Forthebestreadingexperience,ItStartswithUsshouldbereadsecondinthetwo-bookseries.
AfterreleasingItEndswithUs,IneverimaginedIwouldonedaybewritingasequel.Ialsoneverimaginedthatthebookwouldbereceivedasithasbeenbysomany.IamsogratefultoallofyouwhofoundLily’sstorytobeasempoweringasIfindmyownmother’s.
AfterItEndswithUsgainedmomentumonTikTok,IwasinundatedwithrequestsformoreLilyandAtlas.AndhowcouldIpossiblydenyacommunitythathaschangedmylife?Thisnovelwaswrittenasathank-youforthetremendoussupport,andbecauseofthat,Iwantedtodeliveramuchlighterexperience.
LilyandAtlasdeserveit.
Ihopeyouenjoytheirjourney.
Allmylove,
ColleenHooverChapterOneAtlas
ThewayasswholeismisspelledinredspraypaintacrossthebackdoorofBib’smakesmethinkofmymother.
Shewouldalwaysinsertabriefpausebetweensyllables,makingitsoundliketwoseparatewords.IwantedtolaugheverytimeIheardit,butitwashardtofindthehumorinitasachildwhenIwasalwaystherecipientofthehurledinsult.
“Ass…whole,”Darinmutters.“Hadtobeakid.Mostadultsknowhowtospellthatword.”
“You’dbesurprised.”Itouchthepaint,butitdoesn’tsticktomyfingers.Whoeverdidthismusthavedoneitrightafterweclosedlastnight.
“Doyouthinkthemisspellingwasintentional?”heasks.“Aretheysuggestingyou’resomuchofanassholethatyou’reawholeentireass?”
“Whydoyouassumetheyweretargetingme?TheycouldhavebeentargetingyouorBrad.”
“It’syourrestaurant.”Darintakesoffhisjacketandusesittopryalargeshardofexposedbrokenglassoutofthewindow.“Maybeitwasadisgruntledemployee.”
“DoIhavedisgruntledemployees?”Ican’tthinkofasinglepersononpayrollwhowoulddosomethinglikethisThelastpersonI’dhadquitwasfivemonthsago,andsheleftongoodtermsaftergettingacollegedegree.
“TherewasthatguywhodidthedishesbeforeyouhiredBrad.Whatwashisname?Hewasnamedaftersomekindofmineralorsomething—itwassuperweird.”
“Quartz,”Isay.“Itwasanickname.”Ihaven’tthoughtaboutthatguyinsolong.Idoubthe’sholdingagrudgeagainstmeafterallthistime.IfiredhimrightafterweopenedbecauseIfoundouthewasn’twashingthedishesunlesshecouldactuallyseefoodonthem.Glasses,plates,silverware—anythingthatcamebacktothekitchenfromatablelookingfairlyclean,he’djustputitstraightonthedryingrack
IfIwouldn’thavefiredhim,hewouldhavegottenusshutdownbythehealthdepartment.
“Youshouldcallthepolice,”Darinsays.“We’llhavetofileareportforinsurance.”
BeforeIobject,Bradappearsatthebackdoor,hisshoescrunchingthebrokenglassbeneathhisfeet.Bradhasbeeninsidetakinginventoryinordertoseeifanythingwasstolen.
Hescratchesthestubbleonhisjaw.“Theytookthecroutons.”
There’saconfusedpause.
“Didyousay‘croutons’?”Darinasks.
“Yeah.Theytookthewholethingofcroutonsthatwerepreparedlastnight.Nothingelseseemstobemissing,though.”
Thatwasn’tatallwhatIwasexpectinghimtosay.Ifsomeonebrokeintoarestaurantanddidn’ttakeappliancesoranythingelseofvalue,theyprobablybrokeinbecausetheywerehungry.Iknowthatkindofdesperationfirsthand.“I’mnotreportingthis.”
Darinturnstome.“Whynot?”
“Theymightcatchwhoeverdidit.”
“That’sthepoint.”
Igrabanemptyboxoutofthedumpsterandstartpickingupshardsofglass.“Ibrokeintoarestaurantonce.Stoleaturkeysandwich.”
BradandDarinarebothstaringatmenow.“Wereyoudrunk?”Darinasks.
“No.Iwashungry.Idon’twantanyonearrestedforstealingcroutons.”
“Okay,butmaybefoodwasonlythebeginning.Whatiftheycomebackforappliancesnexttime?”Darinsays.“Isthesecuritycamerastillbroken?”
He’sbeenonmetogetthatrepairedformonthsnow.“I’vebeenbusy.”
Darintakestheboxofglassfrommeandstartstopickuptheremainingpieces.“Youshouldgoworkonthatbeforetheycomeback.Heck,theymighteventrytohitupCorrigan’stonightsinceBib’swassuchaneasytarget.”
“Corrigan’shasworkingsecurity.AndIdoubtwhoeveritwaswillvandalizemynewrestaurant.Itwasamatterofconvenience,notatargetedbreak-in.”
“Youhope,”Darinsays.
Iopenmymouthtorespond,butI’minterruptedbyanincomingtextmessage.Idon’tthinkI’veeverreachedformyphonefaster.WhenIseethetextisn’tfromLily,Ideflatealittle.
IranintoherthismorningwhileIwasrunningerrands.Itwasthefirsttimewe’veseeneachotherinayearandahalf,butshewaslateforworkandIhadjustreceivedthetextfromDarininformingmewehadabreak-in.Wepartedsomewhatawkwardlyonthepromisethatshewouldtextmeonceshegottowork.
It’sbeenanhourandahalfsincethen,andIstillhaven’theardfromher.Anhourandahalfisnothing,butIcan’tignorethenagginginmychestthat’stryingtoconvincemeshe’shavingdoubtsabouteverythingthatwassaidbetweenusinthatfive-minuteexchangeonthesidewalk.
I’mdefinitelynothavingdoubtsaboutwhatIsaid.Imighthavegottencaughtupinthemoment—inseeinghowhappyshelookedandfindingoutshe’snolongermarried.ButImeanteverywordIsaidtoher.
I’mreadyforthis.Morethanready.
Ipulluphercontactinfoinmyphone.I’vewantedtotexthersomanytimesoverthelastyearandahalf,butthelasttimeIspoketoher,Ilefttheballinhercourt.Shehadsomuchgoingon,Ididn’twanttocomplicateherlifeevenmore.
She’ssinglenow,though,andshemadeitsoundlikeshewasfinallyreadytogivewhatevercouldbebetweenusachance.However,she’shadanhourandahalftothinkaboutourconversation,andanhourandahalfisplentyoftimetoformregrets.Everyminutethatpasseswithoutatextisgoingtofeellikeawholedamnday.
She’sstilllistedasLilyKincaidinmyphone,soIedithercontactinfoandchangeherlastnamebacktoBloom
IfeelDarinhovering,lookingovermyshoulderatmyphonescreen.“IsthatourLily?”
Bradperksup.“He’stextingLily?”
“?‘OurLily’?”Iask,confused.“Youguysmetheronce.”
“Isshestillmarried?”Darinasks
Ishakemyhead.
“Goodforher,”hesays.“Shewaspregnant,right?Whatdidsheenduphaving?Aboyoragirl?”
Idon’twanttodiscussLilybecausethere’snothingtodiscussyet.Idon’twanttomakeitmorethanwhatitmightbe.“Agirl,andthat’sthelastquestionI’manswering.”IfocusonBrad.“Theocomingintoday?”
“It’sThursday.He’llbehere.”
Iheadinsidetherestaurant.IfI’mgoingtodiscussLilywithanyone,it’llbeTheo.ChapterTwoLily
Myhandsarestillshaking,eventhoughit’sbeenalmosttwohourssinceIranintoAtlas.Ican’ttellifI’mshakingbecauseI’mflusteredorbecauseI’vebeentoobusytoeatsinceIwalkedinthedoor.I’vebarelyhadfivesecondsofpeacetoprocesswhathappenedthismorning,muchlesseatthebreakfastIbroughtwithme.
Didthatactuallyjusthappen?DidIreallyaskAtlasaseriesofquestionssoawkward,I’llbemortifiedwellintonextyear?
Hedidn’tseemawkward,though.Heseemedveryhappytoseeme,andthenwhenhehuggedme,itfeltlikeapartofmethathadbeendormantsuddenlysprangtolife.
ButthisisthefirstmomentI’vehadtoeventakeabathroombreak,andafterlookingatmyselfinthemirrorjustnow,Ikindofwanttocry.I’msplotchy,Ihavecarrotssmearedacrossmyshirt,mynailpolishhasbeenchippedsince,like,January.
NotthatAtlasexpectsorwantsperfection.It’sjustthatI’veimaginedrunningintohimsomanytimes,butnotoneofthosefantasiesstarredmebumpingintohiminthemiddleofahecticmorning,halfanhourafterbeingthetargetofaneleven-month-oldwithahandfulofbabyfood.
Helookedsogood.Hesmelledsogood.
Iprobablysmelllikebreastmilk.
I’msorattledbywhatourchanceencountermightmean,ittookmetwiceaslongtoorganizeeverythingforthedeliverydriverthismorning.Ihaven’tevencheckedourwebsiteforneworderstoday.Igivemyselfonelastlookinthemirror,butallIseeisanexhausted,overworkedsinglemom.
Imakemywayoutofthebathroomandbacktotheregister.Ipullanorderfromtheprinterandbeginmakingoutthecard.Mymindhasneverbeenmoreinneedofadistraction,soI’mgladit’sbeenabusymorning.
TheorderisforabouquetofrosesforsomeonenamedGretafromsomeonenamedJonathan.Themessagereads,I’msorryaboutlastnight.Forgiveme?
Igroan.Apologyflowersaremyleast-favoritekindofbouquetstoassemble.Ialwaysendupobsessingoverwhatthey’reapologizingfor.Didhemisstheirdate?Didhecomehomelate?Didtheyfight?
Didhehither?
SometimesIwanttowritethenumberforthelocaldomesticviolenceshelteronthecards,butIhavetoremindmyselfthatnoteveryapologyisattachedtosomethingasawfulasthethingsthatwereattachedtotheapologiesIusedtoreceive.MaybeJonathanisGreta’sfriendandhe’stryingtocheerherup.Maybehe’sherhusbandandhetookaprankalittletoofar.
Whateverthereasonfortheflowers,Ihopetheymeansomethinggood.Ituckthecardintotheenvelopeandstickitintothebouquetofroses.IsetthemonthedeliveryshelfandampullingupthenextorderwhenIreceiveatext
Ilungeformyphoneasifthetextisabouttoself-destructandIonlyhavethreesecondstoreadit.IshrinkwhenIlookatthescreen.It’snotfromAtlas,butratherfromRyle.
CansheeatFrenchfries?
Ishootaquickresponse.Softones.
Idropmyphoneontothecounterwithathud.Idon’tlikeforhertohaveFrenchfriestoooften,butRyleonlyhasheronetotwodaysaweek,soItrytomakesureshegetsmorenutritiousfoodswhenshe’swithme.
ItwasnicenotthinkingaboutRyleforafewminutes,buthistexthasremindedmethatheexists.Andaslongasheexists,Ifearthatanytypeofrelationship,orevenafriendshipbetweenmeandAtlas,can’texist.HowwillRyletakeitifIstartseeingAtlas?Howwouldheactiftheyeverhadtobearoundeachother?
MaybeI’mgettingaheadofmyself.
Istareatmyphone,wonderingwhatIshouldsaytoAtlas.ItoldhimIwouldtexthimafterIopenedthestore,butcustomerswerewaitingbeforeIevenunlockedthedoor.AndnowthatRylehastexted,I’vegoneandrememberedRyleexistsinthisscenario,too,whichmakesmehesitanttotextAtlasatall.
Thefrontdooropens,andmyemployeeLucyfinallywalksin.Shealwaysseemssoput-together,evenwhenIcantellshe’sinabadmood.
“Goodmorning,Lucy.”
Sheflickshairoutofhereyesandsetsherpurseonthecounterwithasigh.“Isit?”
Lucyisn’tatherfriendliestinthemorning.It’swhymyotheremployeeSerenaorIusuallyworktheregisteruntilatleasteleven,whileLucyputsarrangementstogetherintheback.She’smuchbetterwithcustomersafteracuporfiveofcoffee.
“Ijustfoundoutourplacecardsneverarrivedbecausetheywerediscontinued,andit’stoolatetoordermore.Theweddingisinlessthanamonth.”
Somuchhasgonewrongleadinguptothiswedding,Ihavehalfamindtotellhernottogothroughwithit.ButI’mnotsuperstitious.Hopefullysheisn’t,either.
“Homemadeplacecardsareinstyle,”Ioffer.
Lucyrollshereyes.“Ihatecrafting,”shemutters.“Idon’tevenwantaweddingnow.Itfeelslikewe’vebeenplanningitforlongerthanweevendated.”That’saccurate.“Maybewe’lljustcallitoffandgotoVegas.Youeloped,right?Doyouregretit?”
Idon’tknowwhichpartofallthattoaddressfirst.“Howcanyouhatecrafting?Youworkataflowershop.AndI’mdivorced;ofcourseIregreteloping.”IhandherasmallstackofordersIhaven’tgottentoyet.“Butitwasfun,”Iadmit.
Lucygoestothebackandstartsontherestoftheorders,andIgobacktothinkingaboutAtlas.AndRyle.AndArmageddon,whichiswhatthetwooftheminmybrainatthesametimefeelslike.
Ihavenoideahowthisisexpectedtowork.WhenAtlasandIranintoeachother,itwasasifeverythingelsefadedaway,includingRyle.ButnowRyleisbeginningtoseepbackintomythoughts.NotinthewaythoughtsofRyleusedtooccupymymind,butmoreinawaythatfeelslikearoadblock.Mylovelifehasfinallybeenonastraightpathwithnobumpsorcurves,basicallybecauseit’sbeennonexistentforwelloverayearandahalf,butnowitfeelslikethere’snothingbutroughterrainandobstaclesandcliffsahead.
Isitworthit?OfcourseAtlasisworthit.
Butareweworthit?Isuspotentiallybecomingathingworththestressitwouldinevitablybringtoalltheotherareasofmylife?
Ihaven’tfeltthisconflictedinsolong.PartofmewantstocallAllysaandtellheraboutseeingAtlas,butIcan’t.SheknowshowRylestillfeelsaboutme.Sheknowshowhe’dfeelifIbroughtAtlasintothepicture.
Ican’ttalktomymotherbecauseshe’smymother.Ascloseaswe’vebecomelately,I’dstillneverfreelydiscussmydatinglifewithher.
There’sreallyonlyonewomanIfeelcomfortabletalkingtoaboutAtlas.
“Lucy?”
Sheappearsfromtheback,pullinganearbudoutofherear.“Didyouneedme?”
“Canyoucovermeforawhile?Ineedtogorunanerrand.I’llbebackinanhour.”
Shemakesherwaybehindthecounter,andIgrabmypurse.Idon’tgetalotofalonetimenowthatIhaveEmerson,soIoccasionallystealanhourhereandthereduringtheworkweekwhenIhavesomeonetobackupmyabsenceattheshop.
SometimesIliketositinmythoughts,andit’simpossibletodothatinthepresenceofachildbecauseevenwhenshe’sasleepI’minmommode.Andwiththeconstantflowoftrafficatwork,it’srarethatIcanfindastretchofpeacewithoutbeinginterrupted.
I’vefoundthatbeingaloneinmycarwithmymusicon,andoccasionallyasliceofdessertfromtheCheesecakeFactory,issometimesallittakestosortthroughtheknotsinmybrain.
OnceI’mparkedwithaclearviewofBostonHarbor,IleanmyseatbackandgrabthenotepadandpenIbroughtwithme.Idon’tknowifthiswillhelpasmuchasdessertsometimesdoes,butIneedtoreleasemythoughtsinthesamewayI’vedoneinthepast.ThismethodhashelpedbeforewhenIneedthingstofallneatlyintoplace.Althoughthistime,I’mjusthopingithelpsthingsnottofallcompletelyapart.
DearEllen,
Guesswho’sback?
Me.
AndAtlas.
Bothofus.
IranintohimonmywaytomeetRylewithEmmythismorning.Itwassogoodtoseehim.Butasreaffirmingasitwastoseehimandtoknowwherewebothstandatthispointinourlives,itendedabitawkwardly.Hewashavingaminoremergencywithhisrestaurantandwasinahurry;Iwaslateopeningthestore.WepartedonthepromisethatIwouldtexthim.
Iwanttotexthim.Ido.EspeciallybecauseseeinghimremindedmeofhowmuchImissthefeelingIgetwhenI’maroundhim.
Ididn’trealizehowlonelyI’dbeenfeelinguntilthosefewminuteswithhimthismorning.ButsinceRyleandIdivorced…oh,wait.
Wow.Ihaven’ttoldyouaboutthedivorce.
It’sbeenwaytoolongsinceI’vewrittentoyou.Letmebackup.
IdecidedmyseparationfromRyleshouldbepermanentaftergivingbirthtoEmmy.Iaskedhimforadivorcerightaftershewasborn.Iwasn’tattemptingtobecruelinmytiming,Ijustdidn’tknowwhichchoiceIwasgoingtomakeuntilIheldherinmyarmsandknewwitheveryfiberofmybeingthatIwoulddowhateverittooktobreakthecycleofabuse.
Yes,askingforadivorcehurt.Yes,Iwasheartbroken.Butno,Idon’tregretit.Mychoicehelpedmerealizethatsometimesthehardestdecisionsapersoncanmakewillmostlikelyleadtothebestoutcomes.
Ican’tlieandsayIdon’tmisshim,becauseIdo.Imisswhatwesometimeswere.ImissthefamilywecouldhavebeenforEmerson.ButIknowImadetherightdecision,eventhoughIsometimesgetoverwhelmedbytheweightofit.It’sdifficultbecauseIstillhavetointeractwithRyle.HestillpossessesallthegoodqualitiesIfellinlovewith,andnowthatI’mnolongerinarelationshipwithhim,it’srareIseethenegativesidethatultimatelyendedourmarriage.Ithinkthathastodowiththefactthathe’sonhisbestbehavior.HehadtobeagreeableandnotputuptoomuchofafightbecauseheknewIcouldhavereportedhimforalltheincidentsofdomesticviolenceIexperiencedathishands.Hecouldhavelostalotmorethanhiswife,sowhenitcametothecustodyarrangement,thingsweremoreamiablethanIexpectedthemtobe.
ThatmayhavebeenmorebecauseIputuplessofafightthanhedid.MylawyerwasverystraightforwardwhenIsaidIwantedsolecustody.UnlessIwaswillingtodragthedirtiestpartsofourrockbottomintoacourtroom,therewasn’tmuchIcoulddotopreventRylefromgettingvisitswithEmerson.AndevenifIweretobringupthedomesticviolence,mylawyersaidit’sveryrarethatawilling,successfulfatherwithoutarecord,whoprovidesfinancialsupport,wouldhaveanysortofrightsremoved.
Iwaslookingattwooptions.Icouldchoosetopresschargesanddragthisthroughthecourts,onlytobemetwithaverypossiblejointcustodyarrangement.OrIcouldattempttoworkanagreementoutwithRylethatwouldsatisfyusboth,whilepreservingourcoparentingrelationship.
Iguessyoucouldsaywecametoacompromise,eventhoughthereisn’tanagreementintheworldthatwouldmakemefeelcomfortablewithsendingmydaughteroffwithsomeoneIknowpossessesatemper.ButallIcandoischoosethelesseroftwoevilswhenitcomestocustodyandhopethatEmmyneverseesthatsideofhim.
IwantEmmytobondwithherfather.I’veneverwantedtokeepherfromhim.Ijustwanttoensureshe’ssafe,whichiswhyIbeggedRyletoagreetodayvisitsforthefirstcoupleofyears.Inevertoldhimoutrightit’sbecauseIdon’tknowthatIfullytrusthimwithher.IthinkImighthaveblameditonmybreastfeedingsituationandthefactthathe’soncallallthetime,butdeepdownI’msureheknowswhyI’veneverwantedhertostaywithhimovernight.
Thepastabuseissomethingwedon’ttalkabout.WetalkaboutEmmy,wetalkaboutwork,weplasteronsmileswhenwe’reinthepresenceofourdaughter.Sometimesitfeelsforcedandfake,atleastonmyend,butit’sbetterthanwhatthiscouldhavebeenhadItakenhimtocourtandlost.I’llfakeasmileuntilshe’seighteenifitmeansIdon’thavetosharecustodyandpotentiallyexposemydaughtertotheworstpartsofherfatheronamoreregularbasis.
It’sbeenworkingoutokaysofar,ifyoudon’tcounttheoccasionalgaslightingandunwantedflirtationfromhim.AsclearasI’vemademyfeelingsduringthisdivorce,hestillhashopeforus.Hesaysthingssometimesthatindicatehehasn’tfullyletgooftheideaofus.IfearthatahugepartofRyle’scooperationrestsonthenotionthathe’lleventuallywinmebackifhe’sgoodenoughforlongenough.HehasitinhisheadthatI’llsoftenovertime.
Butlifeisn’tgoingtohappenhisway,Ellen.I’multimatelygoingtomoveon,andifI’mbeinghonest,IhopeIendupmovingoninAtlas’sdirection.It’stoosoontoknowifthat’sapossibility,butIknowforafactI’llnevermovebackinRyle’sdirection,nomatterhowmuchtimepasses.
It’sbeenalmostayearsinceIaskedRyleforthedivorce,butit’sbeenalmostnineteenmonthssincethefightthatultimatelycausedourseparation.WhichmeansI’vebeensingleforoverayearandahalf.
Ayearandahalfofseparationbetweenpotentialrelationshipsseemslikeplentyoftime,andmaybeitwouldbeifitwereanyoneotherthanAtlas.ButhowcanIpossiblymakethiswork?WhatifItextAtlasandheinvitesmetolunch?Andthenlunchgoeswonderful,whichI’msureitwould,andlunchleadstodinner?Anddinnerleadstousfallingrightbackintostepwithwhereweleftoffwhenwewereyounger?Andthenwe’rebothhappyandwefallbackinloveandhebecomesapermanentpartofmylife?
IknowitsoundslikeI’mgettingaheadofmyself,butit’sAtlaswe’retalkingabouthere.Unlesshehadapersonalitytransplant,IthinkyouandIbothknowhoweasyAtlasisformetolove,Ellen.That’swhyI’msohesitant,becauseI’mscareditwillworkout.
Andifitworksout,howwillRylefeelaboutmynewrelationship?Emersonisalmostayearold,andwe’vegonethiswholeyearwithouttoomuchdrama,butIknowthat’sbecausewe’vefoundagoodflowthatnothinghasinterrupted.SowhydoesitfeellikeanymentionofAtlaswillcauseatsunami?
NotthatRyledeservestheconcernI’mcurrentlyfeelingoverthissituation,buthehasthepotentialtomakemydatinglifealivinghell.WhydoesRylestilloccupyanentirewallinmymanylayersofthoughts?That’swhatitfeelslike—asifthesewonderfulthingshappen,butastheystarttosinkin,theyeventuallyreachapartofmethatisstillmakingdecisionsbasedonRyleandhispotentialreactions.
HisreactionsarewhatIfearthemost.Iwanttohopethathewouldn’tbejealous,buthewillbe.IfIstartdatingAtlas,he’llmakeitdifficultforeveryone.EventhoughIknowdivorcewastherightchoice,therearestillconsequencestothatchoice.AndoneofthoseconsequencesisthatRylewillalwayslookatAtlaslikehe’sthethingthatbrokeupourmarriage.
Ryleisthefatherofmydaughter.Nomatterwhatmancomesandgoesinmylifefromthispointforward,RyleistheoneconstantthatI’llalwayshavetoappeaseifIwantthemostpeacefulexperienceformydaughter.AndifAtlasCorriganisbackinmylife—Rylewillneverbeappeased.
Iwishyoucouldtellmewhatdecisiontomake.DoIsacrificewhatIknowwillmakemehappyforthesakeofavoidingtheinevitabledisruptionAtlas’spresencewouldcause?
OrwillIalwayshaveanAtlas-shapedholeinmyheartunlessIallowhimtofillit?
He’sexpectingmetotexthim,butIthinkIneedmoretimetoprocessthis.Idon’tevenknowwhattosaytohim.Idon’tknowwhattodo.
I’llletyouknowifIfigureitout.
LilyChapterThreeAtlas
“?‘Wefinallyreachedtheshore’?”Theosays.“Youactuallysaidthattoher?Outloud?”
Ishiftuncomfortablyonthecouch.“WebondedoverFindingNemowhenwewereyounger.”
“Youquotedacartoon.”Theo’sheadrollisdramatic.“Anditdidn’twork.It’sbeenovereighthourssinceyouranintoher,andshestillhasn’ttextedyou.”
“Maybeshegotbusy.”
“Ormaybeyoucameontoostrong,”Theosays,leaningforward.Heclaspshishandsbetweenhiskneesandrefocuses.“Okay,sowhathappenedafteryousaidallthecheesylines?”
He’sbrutal.“Nothing.Webothhadtogettowork.Iaskedifshestillhadmynumber,andshesaidshehaditmemorized,andthenwesaidgood—”
“Holdup,”Theointerrupts.“Shehasyournumbermemorized?”
“Apparentlyso.”
“Okay.”Helookshopeful.“Thismeanssomething.Noonememorizesnumbersanymore.”
Iwasthinkingthesamething,butIalsowonderedifshememorizedmynumberforotherreasons.BackwhenIwroteitdownandputitinherphonecase,itwasforanemergency.Maybepartofherfearedthedayshe’dneedit,soshememorizeditforreasonsthathadnothingtodowithme.
“So,whatdoIdo?Texther?Callher?Waituntilshereachesouttome?”
“It’sbeeneighthours,Atlas.Calmdown.”
Hisadviceisgivingmewhiplash.“Twominutesago,youactedlikeeighthourswithoutatextwastoolong.Nowyou’retellingmetocalmdown?”
Theoshrugsandthenkicksmydesktomakehischairspin.“I’mtwelve.Idon’tevenhaveaphoneyet,andyouwantmyopinionontextingetiquette?”
Itsurprisesmethathedoesn’thaveaphoneyet.Braddoesn’tseemlikehewouldbeastrictfather.“Whydon’tyouhaveaphone?”
“DadsaysIcanhaveonewhenIturnthirteen.Twomoremonths,”hesayswistfully.
TheohasbeencomingtotherestaurantacoupleofdaysaweekafterschoolsinceBrad’spromotionsixmonthsago.Theotoldmehewantedtobeatherapistwhenhegrowsup,soIlethimpracticeonme.Atfirst,thetalkswewouldhavewereintendedforhisbenefit.Butlately,IfeellikeI’mtheonebenefiting.
Bradpeekshisheadintomyofficeinsearchofhisson.“Let’sgo.Atlashasworktodo.”HemotionsforTheotostandup,butTheojustkeepsspinninginmydeskchair.
“Atlasistheonewhocalledmeinhere.Heneededadvice.”
“I’llneverunderstandwhateverthisis,”Bradsays,pointingbetweenmeandTheo.“Whatadvicedoyougetfrommyson?HowtoavoidyourchoresandwinatMinecraft?”
Theostandsupandstretcheshisarmsoverhishead.“Girls,actually.Andwinningisn’tthepointofMinecraft,Dad.It’smoreofasandboxgame.”Theolooksoverhisshoulderatmeashe’sleavingmyoffice.“Justtexther.”Hesaysthatlikeit’stheobvioussolution.Maybeitis.
Bradyankshimawayfromthedoor.
Isettlebackintomydeskchairandstareatmyblankphonescreen.Maybeshememorizedthewrongnumber.
Iopenhercontactandhesitate.Theocouldberight.Icouldhavecomeontoostrongthismorning.Wedidn’tsaymuchwhenweranintoeachother,butwhatwedidsayhadmeaningandintent.Maybethatscaredher.
Or…maybeI’mrightandshememorizedthewrongnumber.
Myfingershoverovermyphone’skeyboard.Iwanttotexther,butIdon’twanttopressureher.However,sheandIbothknowourliveswouldhaveturnedoutsodifferentifIhadn’tmadesomanymisstepswithherinthepast.
Ispentyearsmakingexcusesforwhymylifewasn’tgoodenoughforhertobeapartofit,butLilyalwaysfit.Shewasaperfectfit.Irefusetoletherwalkawaythistimewithoutalittlemoreeffortonmypart.I’llstartwithmakingsureshehasmycorrectnumber.
Itwasgoodseeingyoutoday,Lily.
Iwaittoseeifshe’sgoingtotextmeback.WhenIseethethreedotspopup,Iholdmybreathinanticipation.
Youtoo.
Istareatherresponseforwaytoolong,hopingit’llbeaccompaniedbyanothertext.Butitisn’t.That’sallI’mgetting.
It’sonlytwowords,butIcanreadbetweenthelines.
Isighindefeatanddropmyphoneontomydesk.ChapterFourLily
MineandRyle’ssituationhasbeenanunconventionalonesinceEmersonwasborn.Idon’tthinkmanycouplesfiledivorcepapersatthesametimetheysigntheirnewborn’sbirthcertificate.
AsmuchasIwasdisappointedinRyleforbeingthethingthatforcedmetohavetomakethedecisiontoendourmarriage,Ididn’twanttopreventhimfrombondingwithourdaughter.IcooperatewithhimasmuchasIcansincehisscheduleissohectic.Isometimeseventakehertohisworktovisithimonhislunchbreak.
He’salsohadakeytomyplacesincebeforeEmersonwasborn.IonlygaveittohimbecauseIlivedaloneandwasafraidI’dgointolaborandhe’dneedaccesstotheapartment.Buthenevergavethekeybackafterherbirth,eventhoughI’vebeenmeaningtoaskhimforit.HesometimesusesitontherareoccasionshehasalatesurgeryandhasextratimetospendwithEmmyinthemorningsafterIheadtowork.That’swhyIhaven’taskedforitback.Butlately,he’sbeenusingthekeytobringEmmyhome.
HetextedmejustbeforeIclosedtheshopearlierandtoldmeEmmywastired,sohewastakinghertomyplacetoputhertobed.Thefrequencyhe’sbeenusingthekeylatelyismakingmewonderifEmmyistheonlyonehe’stryingtospendmoretimewith.
MyfrontdoorisunlockedwhenIfinallymakeittomyapartment.Ryleisinthekitchen.Heglancesupatmewhenhehearsthefrontdoorshut.
“Igrabbeddinner,”hesays,holdingupabagfrommyfavoriteThaiplace.“Youhaven’teaten,haveyou?”
Idon’tlikethis.He’sbeenmakinghimselfmoreandmorecomfortablehere.ButI’memotionallydrainedfromthedayalready,soIshakemyheadanddecidetoconfronttheissueatadifferenttime.“Ihaven’t.Thankyou.”Isetmypurseonthetableandpassthekitchen,headingforEmmy’sroom.
“Ijustlaidherdown,”hewarns.
Ipauserightoutsideherdoorandpressmyeartoit.It’squiet,soIbackawayfromthedoorandheadintothekitchenwithoutwakingher.
IfeelawfulaboutmyshortresponsetoAtlasearlier,butthisinteractionwithRyleisconfirmingallmyconcerns.HowamIsupposedtostartsomethingwithsomeonenewwhenmyexstillbringsmedinnerandhasakeytomyapartment?
IneedtosetfirmboundarieswithRylebeforeIcanevenbegintoentertaintheideaofAtlas.
Rylechoosesabottleofredwinefrommytabletopwinerack.“MindifIopenthis?”
IshrugasIspoonpadthaiontomyplate.“Goahead,butIdon’twantany.”
Ryleputsthebottlebackandoptsforaglassoftea.Igrabawateroutofthefridge,andwebothtakeaseatatthetable.
“Howwasshetoday?”Iaskhim.
“Alittlecranky,butIhadalotoferrandstorun.Ithinkshejustgottiredofgoinginandoutofthecarseat.ShewasbetterwhenwewentovertoAllysa’s.”
“When’syournextdayoff?”Iaskhim.
“Notsure.I’llletyouknow.”Hereachesforwardanduseshisthumbtowipesomethingoffmycheek.Iflinchalittle,buthedoesn’tnotice.Ormaybehepretendsnotto.I’mnotsureifherealizesthereactionIhaveanytimehishandcomesnearmeisanegativeone.KnowingRyle,heprobablythinksIflinchedbecauseIfeltaspark.
AfterEmmywasborn,thereweremomentshereandtherewhenIwouldfeelasparkbetweenus.He’ddoorsaysomethingsweet,orhe’dbeholdingEmmywhilehesangtoher,andIwouldfeelthatfamiliardesireforhimbubblingupinsideofme.ButIsomehowfounditwithinmetopullmyselfoutofthemomenteverytime.ItonlytakesonebadmemorytoimmediatelydullanyfleetingfeelingsIhaveinhispresence.
It’sbeenalong,bumpyroad,butthosefeelingsarefinallynonexistent.
IattributethattothelistIwroteofallthereasonswhyIchosetodivorcehim.Sometimes,afterheleaves,Igotomybedroomandreadittoreiteratethatthisarrangementisthebestoneforallofus.
Well.Maybenotthisexactarrangement.I’dstilllikemykeyreturnedtome.
I’mabouttotakeanotherbiteofnoodleswhenIhearamuffledpingcomefrommypurseacrossthetable.IdropmyforkandquicklyreachformyphonebeforeRyledoes.Notthathewouldreadmytexts,butthelastthingIwantrightnowisforhimtoeventrytobepolitebyhandingmemyphone.HemightseethatthetextisfromAtlas,andI’mnotpreparedforthestormthatwouldbring.
Thetextisn’tfromAtlas,though.It’sfrommymother.She’ssendingpicsofEmmyshetookearlierthisweek.Isetthephonedownandpickupmyfork,butRyleisstaringatme.
“Itwasmymother,”Isay.Idon’tknowwhyIevensaythat.Idon’towehimanexplanation,butIdon’tlikethewayhe’sstaringatme.
“Whowereyouhopingitwouldbe?Youpracticallylungedacrossthetableforyourphone.”
“Noone.”Itakeadrink.He’sstillstaring.IhavenoideahowwellRylecanreadme,butitlookslikeheknowsI’mlying.
Hespinshisforkinhisnoodlesandlooksdownathisplatewithahardenedjaw.“Areyouseeingsomeone?”There’sanedgetohisvoicenow.
“Notthatit’sanyofyourbusiness,butno.”
“Notsayingitismybusiness.Justhavingacasualconversation.”
Idon’trespondtothatbecauseit’salie.Anyrecentlydivorcedhusbandaskinghisex-wifeifshe’sseeingsomeoneismakinganythingbutcasualconversation.
“Idothinkweneedtohaveamoreseriousconversationatsomepointaboutdating,”hesays.“BeforeeitherofusbringsotherpeoplearoundEmerson.Maybelaysomegroundrules.”
Inod.“Ithinkweneedtolaygroundrulesforalotmorethanjustthat.”
Hiseyesnarrow.“Likewhat?”
“Youraccesstomyapartment.”Iswallow.“I’dlikemykeyback.”
Rylestaresstoicallybeforeheresponds.Thenhewipeshismouthandsays,“Ican’tputmydaughtertobed?”
“That’snotwhatI’msayingatall.”
“Youknowmyscheduleiscrazy,Lily.Ihardlygettoseeherasitis.”
“I’mnotsayingIwantyoutoseeheranyless.Ijustwantmykeyback.Ivaluemyprivacy.”
Ryle’sexpressionistight.He’supsetwithme.Iknewhewouldbe,buthe’smakingthisintomorethanitis.IthasnothingtodowithhowmuchIwanthimtoseeEmmy.Ijustdon’twanthimhavingeasyaccesstomyapartment.Imovedoutanddivorcedhimforareason.
It’snotgoingtobeahugechange,butit’sonethatneedstohappen,orwe’llbestuckinthisunhealthyroutineforever.
“I’lljuststartkeepingherovernight,then.”Hesaysitwithsuchconvictionwhileeyeingmeforareaction.IknowhecanfeelthediscomfortI’msuddenlydrowningin.
Ikeepmyvoicecalm.“Idon’tthinkI’mreadyforthat.”
Ryledropshisforkonhisplatewithathud.“Maybeweneedtomodifythecustodyarrangement.”
Thosewordsinfuriateme,butIsomehowpreventmyragefromboilingover.Istandandpickupmyplate.“Really,Ryle?Iaskforthekeytomyapartmentbackandyouthreatenmewithcourt?”
Weagreedtothisarrangement,buthe’sactinglikethatwasformybenefitratherthanhis.HeknowsIcouldhavetakenhimtocourtforsolecustodyaftereverythingheputmethrough.Hell,Ineverevenhadhimarrested.HeshouldbegratefulI’vebeenasgenerousasIhave.
WhenIgettothekitchen,Isetdownmyplateandgriptheedgesofthecounter,allowingmyheadtodropbetweenmyshoulders.Calmdown,Lily.He’sjustreacting.
IhearRylesighregretfully,andthenhefollowsmeintothekitchen.HeleansagainstthecounterwhileIrinsemyplate.“Canyouatleastgivemeatimeline?”Hisvoiceislowerwhenhespeaks.“WhenwillIgetovernightswithher?”
Ipressmyhipagainstthecounterandfacehim.“Whenshecantalk.”
“Whythen?”
Ihatethatheevenneedsmetosaythisoutloud.“Soshecantellmeifsomethinghappens,Ryle.”
WhenthefullmeaningofwhatI’vejustsaidsinksin,hechewsonhisbottomlipwithasmallnod.Icanseethefrustrationintheveinsthatriseinhisneck.Hepullshiskeysoutofhispocketandremovesmyapartmentkey.Hetossesitonthecounterandwalksaway.
Whenhegrabshisjacketanddisappearsoutthefrontdoor,Ifeelthatfamiliartwingeofguiltcreepingintomychest.Theguiltisalwaysfollowedbydoubtslike,AmIbeingtoohardonhim?andWhatifhereallyhaschanged?
Iknowtheanswerstothesequestions,butsometimesitfeelsgoodtoreadthereminders.Igotomyroomandpullthelistoutofmyjewelrybox.
1)Heslappedyoubecauseyoulaughed
2)Hepushedyoudownaflightofstairs.
3)Hebityou.
4)Hetriedtoforcehimselfonyou.
5)Youhadtogetstitchesbecauseofhim.
6)Yourhusbandphysicallyhurtyoumorethanonce.Itwouldhavehappenedagainandagain.
7)Youdidthisforyourdaughter.
Irunmyfingeroverthetattooonmyshoulder,feelingthesmallscarshelefttherewithhisteeth.IfRyledidthesethingstomeatthehighestpointsofourrelationship,whatwouldhebecapableofatthelowest?
IfoldthelistandputitbackinmyjewelryboxforthenexttimeImightneedareminder.ChapterFiveAtlas
“Itwasdefinitelytargeted,”Bradsays,staringatthegraffiti.
WhoevervandalizedBib’stwonightsagodecidedtohitupmynewestrestaurantlastnight.Corrigan’shastwodamagedwindows,andthere’sanothermessagespraypaintedacrossthebackdoor
FuckuAtlass.
Theyaddedansandunderlinedassinmyname.Icatchmyselfwantingtolaughatthecleverness,butmymoodisn’tmakingspaceforhumorthismorning
Yesterday,thevandalismbarelyfazedme.Idon’tknowifitwasbecauseIhadjustrunintoLilyandwasstillridingthathigh,butthismorningIwokeupstuckonherapparentavoidanceofme.Becauseofthat,thedamagetomynewestrestaurantfeelslikeit’scuttingalittledeeper.
“I’llcheckthesecurityfootage.”I’mhopingitrevealssomethinguseful.Istilldon’tknowifIwanttogotothepolice.Maybeifit’ssomeoneIknow,IcanatleastconfrontthembeforeI’mforcedtoresorttothat.
Bradfollowsmeintomyoffice.Ipoweronthecomputerandopenthesecurityapp.IthinkBradcanfeelmyfrustration,becausehedoesn’tspeakwhileIsearchthefootageforseveralminutes.
“There,”Bradsays,pointingtothelowerleft-handcornerofthescreen.Islowdownthefootageuntilweseeafigure.
WhenIhitplay,webothstareinconfusion.Someoneiscurleduponthebacksteps,unmoving.Wewatchthescreenforabouthalfaminute,untilIhitrewindagain.Accordingtothetimestamponthefootage,thepersonremainsonthestepsforovertwohours.Withoutablanket,inaBostonOctober.
“Theyslepthere?”Bradsays.“Theyweren’ttooworriedaboutgettingcaught,werethey?”
Irewindthefootageevenmoreuntilitshowsthepersonwalkingintotheframeforthefirsttime,alittleafteroneinthemorning.Becauseit’sdark,it’shardtomakeoutfacialfeatures,buttheyseemyoung.Morelikeateenagerthananadult.
Theysnooparoundforafewminutes—digthroughthedumpster.Checkthelockonthebackdoor.Pulloutthespraypaintandleavetheirclevermessage.
Thentheyusethecanofspraypainttoattempttobreakthewindows,butCorrigan’swindowsaretriple-paned,sothepersoneventuallygetsbored,orgrowstiredoftryingtomakeabigenoughholetofitthroughliketheydidatBib’s.That’swhentheyproceedtoliedownonthebacksteps,wheretheyfallasleep.
Justbeforethesunrises,theywakeup,lookaround,andthencasuallywalkawayliketheentirenightneverhappened.
“Doyourecognizehim?”Bradasks.
“No.You?”
“Nope.”
Ipausethefootageonwhatmaybetheclearestvisualwecangetoftheperson,butit’sgrainy.They’rewearingjeansandablackhoodiewiththehoodpulledtightsothattheirhairisn’tvisible.
There’snowaywewouldbeabletorecognizewhoeverthisisifwesawtheminperson.Itisn’taclearenoughpicture,andtheyneverlookedstraightatthecamera.Thepolicewouldn’tevenfindthisfootageuseful.
Isendthefiletomyemailanyway.RightwhenIhitsend,aphonepings.Iglanceatmine,butit’sBradwhoreceivedatext.
“DarinsaysBib’sisfine.”Hepocketshisphoneandheadstowardmyofficedoor.“I’llstartcleaningup.”
Iwaitforthefiletofinishsendingtomyemail,thenIstartthefootageoveragain,feelingmorepitythanirritation.ItjustremindsmeofthecoldnightsIspentinthatabandonedhousebeforeLilyofferedmetheshelterofherbedroom.Icanpracticallyfeelthechillinmybonesjustthinkingaboutit.
Ihavenoideawhothiscouldbe.It’sunnervingthattheywrotemynameonthedoor,andevenmoreunnervingthattheyfeltcomfortableenoughtohangoutandtakeatwo-hournap.It’slikethey’redaringmetoconfrontthem.
Myphonebeginstovibrateonmydesk.Ireachforit,butit’sanumberIdon’trecognize.Inormallydon’tanswerthose,butLilyisstillinthebackofmymind.Shecouldbecallingmefromaworkphone.
God,Isoundpathetic.
Iraisethephonetomyear.“Hello?”
There’sasighontheotherend.Afemale.ShesoundsrelievedthatIanswered.“Atlas?”
Isigh,too,butnotfromrelief.Isighbecauseitisn’tLily’svoice.I’mnotsurewhoseitis,butanyoneotherthanLilyisdisappointing,apparently.
Ileanbackinmyofficechair.“CanIhelpyou?”
“It’sme.”
Ihavenoideawho“me”is.Ithinkbacktoanyexesthatcouldbecallingme,butnoneofthemsoundlikethisperson.AndnoneofthemwouldassumeIwouldknowwhotheywereiftheysimplysaid,It’sme
“Who’sspeaking?”
“Me,”shesaysagain,emphasizingitlikeit’llmakeadifference.“Sutton.Yourmother.”
Iimmediatelypullthephoneawayfrommyearandlookatthenumberagain.Thishastobesomekindofprank.Howwouldmymothergetmyphonenumber?Whywouldshewantit?It’sbeenyearssinceshemadeitclearsheneverwantedtoseemeagain.
Isaynothing.Ihavenothingtosay.Istretchmyspineandleanforward,waitingforhertospitoutthereasonshefinallyputforththeefforttocontactme.
“I…um.”Shepauses.Icanhearatelevisiononinthebackground.ItsoundslikeThePriceIsRight.Icanalmostpicturehersittingonthecouch,abeerinonehandandacigaretteintheotheratteninthemorning.ShemostlyworkednightswhenIwasgrowingup,soshe’deatdinnerandthenstayuptowatchThePriceIsRightbeforegoingtosleep.
Itwasmyleast-favoritetimeofday
“Whatdoyouwant?”Myvoiceisclipped.
Shemakesanoiseinthebackofherthroat,andeventhoughit’sbeenyears,Icantellshe’sannoyed.Icantellinthatonereleaseofbreaththatshedidn’twanttocallme.She’sdoingitbecauseshehasto.She’snotreachingouttoapologize;she’sreachingoutbecauseshe’sdesperate.
“Areyoudying?”Iask.It’stheonlythingthatwouldpreventmefromendingthiscall.
“AmIdying?”SherepeatsmyquestionwithlaughterasifI’mabsurdandunreasonableandanass…whole.“No,I’mnotdying.I’mperfectlyfine.”
“Doyouneedmoney?”
“Whodoesn’t?”
Everyounceofanxietysheusedtofillmewithreturnsinjustthesefewsecondsonthephonewithher.Iimmediatelyendthecall.Ihavenothingtosaytoher.Iblockhernumber,regretfulthatIgaveheraslongasIdidtospeak.Ishouldhaveendedthecallassoonasshetoldmewhoshewas.
Ileanforwardovermydeskandcradlemyheadinmyhands.Mystomachischurningfromtheunexpectednessofthelastcoupleofminutes.
I’msurprisedbymyreaction,honestly.Ithoughtthismighthappenoneday,butIimaginedmyselfnotcaring.IassumedI’dfeelasindifferenttowardherreturningtomylifeasIdidwhensheforcedmetoleavehers.Butbackthen,Iwasindifferenttoalotofthings.
NowIactuallylikemylife.I’mproudofwhatI’veaccomplished.Ihaveabsolutelynodesiretoallowanyonefrommypasttocomeinandthreatenthat.
Irunmyhandsovermyface,forcingdownthelastfewminutes,thenIpushbackfrommydesk.IwalkoutsidetohelpBradwiththerepairsanddomybesttomovebeyondthismoment.It’shard,though.It’slikemypastiscrashingintomefromalldirections,andIhaveabsolutelynoonetodiscussthiswith.
Afterafewminutesofbothofusworkinginsilence,IsaytoBrad,“YouneedtogetTheoaphone;he’salmostthirteen.”
Bradlaughs.“Youneedtogetatherapistwho’sclosertoyourage.”ChapterSixLily
“Haveyoudecidedwhatyou’redoingforEmerson’sbirthday?”Allysaasks.
AllysaandMarshallthrewafirstbirthdaypartyfortheirdaughter,Rylee,thatwassobig,itwasworthyofaSweetSixteen.“I’msureI’lljustletherhaveasmashcakeandgiveheracoupleofpresents.Idon’thaveroomforabigparty.”
“Wecoulddosomethingatourplace,”Allysaoffers.
“WhowouldIinvite?She’llbeone;shehasnofriends.Shecan’teventalk.”
Allysarollshereyes.“Wedon’tthrowkids’partiesforourbabies.Wethrowthemtoimpressourfriends.”
“You’remyonlyfriend,andIdon’tneedtoimpressyou.”IhandAllysaanorderfromtheprinter.“Arewedoingdinnertonight?”
Wegettogetherfordinneratleasttwiceaweekattheirplace.Ryleoccasionallypopsby,butIpurposefullyplanmyvisitsonnightshe’soncall.Idon’tknowifAllysahasevernoticed.Ifshehas,sheprobablydoesn’tblameme.Shesaysit’spainfulwatchingRylewhenI’maroundbecauseshealsosuspectshestillhashopeforus.ShepreferstospendtimewithhimwhenI’mnotpresent.
“Marshall’sparentsarecomingintotowntoday,remember?”
“Ohyeah.Goodluckwiththat.”AllysalikesMarshall’sparents,butIdon’tthinkanyonetrulylooksforwardtohostingtheirin-lawsforanentireweek.
Thefrontdoorchimes,andAllysaandIbothlookupatthesametime.Idoubtherworldstartstospinlikeminedoes,though.
Atlasiswalkingtowardus.
“Isthat…”
“Oh,God,”Imutterundermybreath.
“Yes,heisagod,”Allysawhispers.
Whatishedoinghere?
Andwhydoeshelooklikeagod?ItmakesthedecisionI’vebeenweighingthatmuchmoredifficult.Ican’tevenfindmyvoicelongenoughtosayhellotohim.Ijustsmileandwaitforhimtoreachus,butthewalkfromthedoortothefrontcounterseemslikeit’sexpandedbyamile.
Hedoesn’ttakehiseyesoffmeashemakeshiswayover.Whenhereachesus,hefinallyacknowledgesAllysawithasmile.Thenhelooksbackatmeashesetsaplasticbowlwithalidonthecounter.“Ibroughtyoulunch,”hesayscasually,asifhebringsmeluncheverydayandIshouldhavebeenexpectingit.
Ah,thatvoice.Iforgothowfaritreaches.
Igrabthebowl,butIdon’tknowwhattosaywithAllysahoveringnexttome,watchingusinteract.Iglanceatherandgiveherthelook.Shepretendsnottonotice,butwhenIdon’tstopstaringather,sheeventuallyyields.
“Fine.I’llgoflowerthe…flowers.”Shewalksaway,givingusprivacy.
IturnmyattentionbacktothelunchAtlasbrought.“Thankyou.Whatisit?”
“Ourweekendspecial,”Atlassays.“It’scalledwhyareyouavoidingmepasta.”
Ilaugh.ThenIcringe.“I’mnotavoid…”Ishakemyheadwithaquicksigh,knowingIcan’tlietohim.“Iamavoidingyou.”Ileanmyelbowsontothecounterandcovermyfacewithmyhands.“I’msorry.”
Atlasisquiet,soIeventuallylookupathim.Heseemssincerewhenhesays,“Doyouwantmetoleave?”
Ishakemyhead,andassoonasIdo,hiseyescrinklealittleatthecorners.It’sbarelyasmile,butitcausesawarmthtotumbledownmychest.
YesterdaymorningwhenIranintohim,Isaidsomuch.NowI’mtooconfusedtospeak.Idon’tknowhowI’msupposedtohaveafull-onconversationwithhimabouteverythingthat’sbeengoingthroughmymindoverthelasttwenty-fourhourswhenIfeelsotongue-tiedaroundhim.
HehadthesameimpactonmewhenIwasyounger,butIwasmorena?vebackthen.Ididn’tknowhowraremenlikeAtlaswere,soIdidn’tknowhowluckyIwastohavehiminmylife.
Iknownow,whichiswhyitterrifiesmethatImightscrewthisup.OrthatRylemightscrewthisup.
Iliftthebowlofpastahebrought.“Itsmellsreallygood.”
“Itisgood.Imadeit.”
Ishouldlaughatthat,orsmile,butmyreactiondoesn’tfittheconversation.Isetthebowlaside.WhenIlookathimagain,hecanseethewarinmyexpression.Hecounterswithareassuringlook.Notmuchissaidbetweenus,butthenonverbalcueswe’retradingaresayingenough.Myeyesareapologizingformysilenceoverthelasttwenty-fourhours,he’ssilentlytellingmeit’sokay,andwe’rebothwonderingwhatcomesnext.
Atlasslideshishandslowlyacrossthecounter,closertomine.Heliftshisindexfingerandskimsitdownthelengthofmypinkie.It’sthesmallest,mosttendermove,butitmakesmyheartflip.
HepullshishandbackandclencheshisfistasifhemighthavefeltthesamethingIdid.Heclearshisthroat.“CanIcallyoutonight?”
I’mabouttonodwhenAllysasuddenlyburststhroughthedoortotheback,wide-eyed.Sheleansinandwhispers,“Ryleisalmosthere.”
Mybloodfeelslikeitfreezesinmyveins.“What?”Idon’tsaythatsoshe’llrepeatit.IsayitbecauseI’mshocked,butsherepeatsherselfanyway.
“Ryleispullingin.Hejusttexted.”ShewavesahandtowardAtlas.“Youhavetensecondstohidehim.”
I’msureAtlascanseetheabsolutefearinmyexpressionwhenIlookathim,butheverycalmlysays,“Wheredoyouwantme?”
Ipointtomyofficeandrushhiminthatdirection.Oncewe’reintheoffice,Isecond-guessmyself.“Hemightcomeinhere.”IcovermymouthwithashakyhandwhileIthink,andthenpointtomyofficesupplycloset.“Canyouhideinthere?”
Atlaslooksattheclosetandthenlooksatme.Hepointsatthedoor.“Inthecloset?”
Ihearthefrontdoorchime,andI’mfilledwithevenmoreurgency.“Please?”Iopentheclosetdoor.Itisn’tthemostidealplacetohideanactualhuman,butit’sawalk-incloset.He’llfitjustfine.
Ican’tevenlookhimintheeyewhenhemovespastmeandintothecloset.Icoulddierightnow.Thisissomortifying.AllIcandoismurmur,“I’msosorry,”asIclosethedoor.
Idomybesttocomposemyself.AllysaischattingwithRylewhenIexitmyoffice.Hegreetsmewithanod,buthisattentionisbackonAllysa.She’sdiggingthroughherpurseforsomething
“Theywereinhereearlier,”shesays.
Ryleistappinghisfingersimpatiently.
“Whatareyoulookingfor?”Iaskher.
“Keys.Iaccidentallybroughtthemwithme,andMarshallneedstheSUVtogethisparentsfromtheairport.”
Rylelooksirritated.“Areyousureyoudidn’tsetthemasidewhenItoldyouIwascomingtogetthem?”
Itiltmyhead,focusingonAllysa.“Youknewhewascoming?”HowcouldsheforgettotellmehewasonhiswayherewhenAtlasshowedup?
Shereddensalittle.“Igotsidetrackedby…unexpectedevents.”Sheholdsupherhandinvictory.“Foundthem!”ShedropstheminRyle’spalm.“Okay,bye,youcanleavenow.”
Rylemakesamovelikehe’sabouttogo,butthenheturnsandsniffstheair.“Whatsmellssogood?”
HisandAllysa’seyesmeetthebowlatthesametime.Allysapullsittoher,cradlingit.“IcookedlunchformeandLily,”shelies.
Ryleraisesaneyebrow.“Youcooked?”Hereachesforthebowl.“Ihavetoseethis.Whatisit?”
Allysahesitatesbeforehandinghimthebowl.“Yeah,it’schicken…barabadoula…meat.”Shelooksatmeandhereyesarewide.Sheissuchahorribleliar.
“Chickenwhat?”Ryleopensthebowlandinspectsit.“Itlookslikeshrimppasta.”
Allysaclearsherthroat.“Yeah,Icookedtheshrimpin…chickenstock.That’swhyit’scalledchickenbarabadoulameat.”
RyleputsthelidbackonandlooksatmewithconcernasheslidesthebowlacrossthecounterbacktoAllysa.“I’dorderpizzaifIwereyou.”
Iforcealaugh,butsodoesAllysa.Bothofuslaughingmakesourreactionseemwaytoocompulsoryforajokethatwasn’tevenfunny.
Ryle’sexpressionnarrows.Hetakesacoupleofstepsback,asuspiciouslookinhiseye.Hemustbeusedtothetwoofushavinginsidejokesthatheisn’tapartof,becausehedoesn’tevenquestionus.HespinsandwalksoutoftheflowershopinarushtogetthekeystoMarshall.AllysaandIbothstandasstillasstatuesuntilwe’resurehe’sleftthebuildingandiswayoutofearshot.ThenIlookatherincredulously.
“Chickenbarbawhat?Didyoujustcompletelymakeupanewlanguage?”
“Ihadtosaysomething,”shesaysdefensively.“Youstoodtherelikealump!You’rewelcome.”
IwaitacoupleofminutestomakesureRylehashadtimetoleave.IwalkoutfronttoensureRyle’scarisgoneThenIregretfullywalkintomyofficeandheadtothesupplyclosettoinformAtlashe’sintheclear.Iexhalebeforeopeningthedoor.
Atlasiswaitingpatiently,hisarmscrossedasheleansagainstashelf,asifbeinghiddeninaclosetdoesn’tbotherhimintheleast.
“I’msosorry.”Idon’tknowhowmanyapologiesitwilltaketomakeupforwhatIjustaskedAtlastodo,butI’mpreparedtosayitathousandmoretimes.
“Ishegone?”
Inod,butratherthanexitthecloset,Atlasgrabsmyhand,pullsmeinandclosesthedoor.
Nowwe’rebothinthecloset.
Thedarkcloset.ButnotsodarkthatIcan’tseetheflickerinhiseyesthatindicateshe’sholdingbackasmile.Maybehedoesn’tabsolutelyhatemeforthis.
Hereleasesmyhand,butit’ssocrampedinhereforthetwoofus,partsofhimaregrazingpartsofme.Mystomachknots,soIpressmybackintotheshelfbehindmeinanattemptnottopressintohim,butitfeelslikehe’sdrapedovermelikeawarmblanket.He’ssoclose,Icansmellhisshampoo.Iverycalmlytrytobreathethroughmynerves
“Well?CanI?”heasks,hisvoiceawhisper.
Ihavenoideawhathe’saskingme,butIwanttoanswerwithaconfidentyes.RatherthanblurtoutmyconsenttoaquestionIdon’tevenknow,Isilentlycounttothree.ThenIsay,“Canyouwhat?”
“Callyoutonight.”
Oh.Hejumpedrightbackintotheconversationwewerehavingoutfront,asifRylenevereveninterruptedus.
Ipullinmybottomlipandbitedownonit.IwanttosayokaybecauseIwantAtlastocallme,butIalsowantAtlastoknowthatmehidinghimfromRyleinsideofthisclosetisprobablyonparwithhowtherestofourinteractionswillgosinceRyleisalwaysgoingtobeinthepicture,consideringweshareachild.
“Atlas…”Isayhisnamelikesomethingawfulisabouttofollowitup,butheinterruptsme.
“Lily.”Hesaysmynamewithasmile,likenothingIcouldpossiblyaddtohisnamewouldbeawful.
“Mylifeiscomplicated.”Idon’tintendforittocomeoutlikeawarning,butitdoes.
“Iwanttohelpyouuncomplicateit.”
“I’mscaredyourpresenceisgoingtocomplicateitevenmore.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“I’llcomplicateyourlifeorRyle’slife?”
“Hiscomplicationsbecomemycomplications.He’sthefatherofmychild.”
Atlasdipshisheadeversoslightly.“Exactly.He’sherfather.He’snotyourhusband,soyoushouldn’tallowyourconcernforhisfeelingstopersuadeyoutogiveupwhatcouldbethesecond-bestthingtoeverhappentoyou.”
Hesaysthatwithsuchconviction,myheartfeelslikeit’stumblingdownmyribcagelikeaPlinkochip.Thesecond-bestthingtoeverhappentome?Iwishhisconfidenceinuswerecontagious.“What’sthefirst-bestthingtoeverhappentome?”
Helooksatmepointedly.“Emerson.”
Hearinghimcallmydaughterthebestthingtoeverhappentomemakesmedamnnearmelt.Ihugmyselfandholdbackmysmile.“You’regoingtomakethisdifficultforme,huh?”
Atlasslowlyshakeshishead.“DifficultisthelastthingIwanttobeforyou,Lily.”Hemovesandthedoorbeginstoopen,spillinglightintothecloset.Hefacesmewithonehandonthedoorandtheotheronthewall.“When’sagoodtimetocallyoutonight?”Heseemssoateasewiththisconversation,itmakesmewanttopullhimbackintotheclosetandkisshimsothatmaybesomeofhisassuranceandpatiencewillseepintome.
MymouthfeelslikecottonwhenIsay,“Whenever.”
Hiseyessettleonmylipsforabeat,andIfeelthelookallthewaytomytoes.ButthenAtlasclosesthedoor,shuttingmealoneinsidethecloset.
Ideservedthat.
Amixtureofembarrassment,nervousness,andmaybeevenalittlebitofdesireisfloodingmycheeks.IremainunmovinguntilIhearthefaintchimeofthefrontdoorbeingopened.
I’mfanningmyselfwhenAllysaopenstheclosetdoormomentslater.IquicklydropmyhandstomyhipstohidewhatAtlas’spresencedoestome.
Allysafoldsherarmsacrossherchest.“Youhidhiminthecloset?”
Myshouldersfallwithmyshame.“Iknow.”
“Lily.”Shesoundsdisappointedinme,butwhatwouldsheratherIhavedone?Reintroducedthemtooneanother?“Imean,I’mgladyoudidit,becauseI’mnotsurehowthatwouldhaveturnedout,but…youhidhiminthecloset.Youjustshovedhiminherelikeanoldcoat.”
Herrehashingthemomentisn’thelpingmerecoverfromit.ImovetowardthefrontofthestorewithAllysaonmyheels.“Ihadnochoice.AtlasistheoneguyonthisearthRylewouldneverapproveofmedating.”
“Ihatetobreakittoyou,butthere’sonlyoneguyonthisearthRylewouldapproveofyoudating,andthat’sRyle.”
Idon’trespondtothatbecauseI’mterrifiedthatshe’sright.
“Wait,”Allysasays.“AreyouandAtlasdating?”
“No.”
“Butyoujustsaidhe’stheoneguyRylewouldneverapproveofyoudating.”
“IsaidthatbecauseifRylehadseenhimhere,that’swhathewouldhaveassumed.”
Allysafoldsherarmsoverthecounterandlookscrestfallen.“I’mfeelingveryleftoutrightnow.There’sahugegapyouneedtofillin.”
“Gap?Whatdoyoumean?”Itrytolookbusybypullingavasetowardmeandmovingsomeoftheflowersaround.Allysatakesthevasefromme.
“Hebroughtyoulunch.Whydidhebringyoulunchifthetwoofyouaren’tactivelytalking?Andifyou’reactivelytalking,whydidn’tyoutellmeaboutit?”
Ipullthevasebackfromher.“Weranintoeachotheryesterday.Itwasnothing.Ihaven’tevenspokentohimsincebeforeEmmywasborn.”
Allysagrabsthevaseagain.“Irunintooldfriendseveryday.Theydon’tbringmelunch.”Sheslidesthevasebacktome.We’reusingitlikeaconchshell,asifweneeditforpermissiontospeak.
“Yourfriendsprobablyaren’tchefs.That’swhatchefsdo:Theycookpeoplelunch.”Islidethevasebacktoher,butshesaysnothing.She’sconcentratingsohard,it’slikeshe’sattemptingtoreadmymindtogetpastalltheliesshethinksI’mspewing.Ipullthevasebackfromher.“It’shonestlynothing.Yet.You’llbethefirsttoknowifanythingchanges.”
Shelooksmomentarilysatisfiedbythatresponse,butthere’saflickerofsomethinginherfacebeforeshelooksaway.Ican’ttellifit’sconcernorsadness.Idon’taskher,becauseIknowthisishardforher.Iimaginetheideaofanymanbringingmelunchwhoisn’tRyleprobablymakesheralittlesad.
InAllysa’sideaofaperfectworld,shewouldhaveabrotherwhoneverhurtme,andIwouldstillbehersister-in-law.ChapterSevenAtlas
“Whenyou’reworkingwithflounder,alwaysholdyourknifelikethis.”Idemonstratehowtostartwiththedullendatthetail,butTheolooksawayassoonasIbegintoscalethefish.
“Gross,”hemutters,coveringhismouth.“Ican’t.”Theomovestotheothersideofthecounter,puttingspacebetweenhimselfandthecookinglesson.
“I’monlyscalingit.Ihaven’tevencutitopenyet.”
Theomakesagaggingsound.“Ihavenointerestinworkingwithfood.I’llsticktobeingyourtherapist.”Theopusheshimselfontothecounter.“Speakingof,didyouevertextLily?”
“Idid.”
“Shetextyouback?”
“Sortof.Itwasashorttext,soIdecidedtotakeherlunchtodaytoseewhereherheadisat.”
“Thatwasaboldmove.”
“I’vespentmylifenotmakingboldmoveswhenitcomestoher.IwantedtomakesuresheknewwhereIstoodthistime.”
“Ohno,”Theosays.“Whatcheesythingdidyousaytoheraboutfishandbeachesandshores?”
InevershouldhavetoldhimwhatIsaidtoLilyaboutfinallyreachingtheshore.I’mnotgoingtoheartheendofit.“Shutup.You’veprobablyneverevenspokentoagirl;you’retwelve.”
Theolaughs,butthenInoticeanawkwardnesssettleoverhimwhenhethinksI’mnotlooking.Hegrowsquiet,despitetheruckusgoingonaroundus.Thereareatleastfiveotherpeopleinthekitchenrightnow,buteveryoneissofocusedontheirwork,nooneispayingattentiontotheconversationI’mhavingwithTheo.
“Youlikesomeone?”Iaskhim.
Heshrugs.“Kinda.”
ThediscussionsIhavewithTheoareusuallyone-sided.Asmuchashelikestoaskquestions,hedoesn’tanswerverymany,soItreadcarefully.“Ohyeah?”Itrytoactcasualwithmyresponsesohe’llexpand.“Whoisshe?”
Theoislookingdownathishands.He’spickingathisthumbnail,butIcanseehisshoulderssinkalittleaftermyquestion,likeIdidsomethingwrong.
Orsaidsomethingwrong.
“Orhe,”Iclarify.Iwhisperittobesurehe’stheonlyonewhohearsit.
Theo’seyesdartuptomine.
Hedoesn’thavetoconfirmordenyanything.Icanseethetruthwritteninthefearthat’srestingbehindhiseyes.IgivemyattentionbacktothefishI’mpreparing,andasnonchalantlyaspossible,Isay,“Doyougotoschoolwithhim?”
Theodoesn’timmediatelyanswer.I’mnotsureifI’mthefirstpersonhe’sadmittedthispartofhimselfto,soIwanttomakesuretotreatthatwiththecareitdeserves.Iwanthimtoknowhehasanallyinme,butIalsohopehe’sawarehehasanallyinhisfather,too.
Theolooksaroundtomakesurenooneishoveringlongenoughtofollowalongwithourconversation.“He’sbeeninmathclubwithmeallyear.”Hiswordsarequickandconcise,likehewantstoreleasethemandneversaythemagain.
“Doesyourdadknow?”
Theoshakeshishead.Iwatchasheswallowswhatlooklikenervousthoughts.
IputdownmyknifewhenI’mdonescalingthefishandmovetothesinkclosesttoTheotowashmyhands.“I’veknownyourdadforalongtime.He’soneofmybestfriendsforareason.Idon’tsurroundmyselfwithpeoplewhoaren’tgood.”IcanseethereassurancesettleinhimwhenIsaythat,butIcanalsotellhe’suncomfortableandprobablywantstochangethesubject.“Iwouldsayyoushouldtextthispersonyoulike,butyou’reprobablytheonlytwelve-year-oldleftonearthwithoutacellphone.You’llneverdateanyoneatthisrate.You’llprobablybesingleandphonelessforever.”
TheoisrelievedI’mribbinghim.“I’msogladyoudecidedtobeachefandnotatherapist.Yousuckatadvice.”
“Itakeoffensetothat.Igivegoodadvice.”
“Okay,Atlas.Whateveryousay.”Heseemstoloosenup.HefollowsmeasIheadbacktomystation.“DidyouaskLilyoutonadatewhenyouwenttoherwork?”
“No.Iwilltonight.I’mcallingherwhenIgethome.”IwalkbyTheoandrufflehishaironmywaytothefreezer.
“Hey,Atlas?”
Ipause.Hiseyesarefilledwithconcern,butoneofthewaiterspushesthroughthedoorsandwalksbetweenus,preventingTheofromsayingwhateveritwashewasabouttosay.Hedoesn’thavetosayit,though.
“Notsayingaword,Theo.Clientconfidentialitygoesbothways.”
Thatseemstoreassurehim.“Good,becauseifyousaidsomethingtomydad,Iwouldtellhimhowcheesyyouarewithyourpickuplines.”Theomockinglypresseshispalmstohischeeks.“Wefinallyreachedthebeach,mylittlewhale.”
Iglareathim.“That’snotatallhowitwent.”
Theopointsacrossthekitchen.“Look!It’ssand—we’vereachedland!”
“Stop.”
“Lily,whattheheck,ourboatiswrecked!”
He’sstillfollowingmearoundthekitchenmakingfunofmewhenhisdad’sshiftends.I’veneverbeenhappiertoseehimleave.ChapterEightLily
It’salmost9:30atnight,andIhavenomissedcalls.Emersonhasbeenasleepforanhourandahalf,andshe’susuallyawakebysixinthemorning.IgotobedaroundtenbecauseifIdon’tgetatleasteighthoursofsleep,Ifunctionatthecapacityofazombie.ButifAtlasdoesn’tcallbeforeten,I’mnotsureI’llbeabletosleepatall.I’llwonderifIshouldhaveapologizedseventymoretimesforhidinghiminaclosettoday.
Iwalktothebathroomsinktostartmynightlyskin-careroutine,andItakemyphonewithme.I’vecarrieditwithmeeverystepsinceheshowedupatlunchtimetodayandtoldmehe’dcallmetonight.Ishouldhaveclarifiedwhattonightmeant.
ToAtlas,tonightcouldmeaneleven.
Tome,itcouldmeaneight.
Weprobablyhavetwocompletelydifferentdefinitionsforwhatmorningandnightevenmean.He’sasuccessfulchefwhogetshometounwindaftermidnight,andI’minmypajamasbysevenintheevening.
Myphonemakesanoise,butitisn’taringtone.It’smakinganoiselikesomeoneistryingtoFaceTimeme.
Pleasedon’tbeAtlas.
Iamnotpreparedforavideochat;Ijustputfacescrubon.Ilookatthephoneandsureenough,it’shim.
Iansweritandquicklyflipthephonearoundsothathecan’tseeme.IleaveitonmysinkwhileIspeedupthecleansingprocess.“Youaskedifyoucouldcallme.Thisisavideochat.”
Ihearhimlaugh.“Ican’tseeyou.”
“Yeah,becauseI’mwashingmyfaceandgettingreadyforbed.Youdon’tneedtoseeme.”
“Yes,Ido,Lily.”
Hisvoicemakesmyskinfeeltingly.IflipthecameraaroundandholditupwithanItoldyousoexpression.Mywethairisstillwrappedinatowel,I’mwearinganightgownmygrandmotherprobablyusedtoown,andmyfaceisstillcoveredingreenfoam.
Hissmileisfluidandsexy.He’ssittingupinbed,wearingawhiteT-shirt,leaningagainstablackwoodenheadboard.TheonetimeIwenttohishouse,Ineverwentintohisbedroom.Hiswallisblue,likedenim.
“Thiswasdefinitelyworththedecisiontovideo-chat,”hesays.
Isetthephonebackdown,facingmethistime,andfinishrinsing.“Thanksforlunchtoday.”Idon’twanttogivehimtoomuchpraise,butitwasthebestpastaI’veeverhad.AnditwastwohoursoldbeforeIevenhadachancetotakealunchbreakandeatit.
“Youlikedthewhyareyouavoidingmepasta?”
“Youknowitwasgreat.”IwalktomybedonceI’mfinishedinthebathroom.Ipropmyphoneonapillowandlieonmyside.“Howwasyourday?”
“Itwasgood,”hesays,buthe’snotveryconvincingwiththewayhisvoicedropsonthewordgood
ImakeafacetolethimknowIdon’tbelievehim.
Helooksawayfromthescreenforasecond,likehe’sprocessingathought.“It’sjustoneofthoseweeks,Lily.It’sbetternow,though.”Hismouthcurlsintoaslightgrin,anditmakesmesmile,too.
Idon’tevenhavetomakesmalltalk.I’dbehappyjuststaringathimincompletesilenceforanhour.
“What’syournewrestaurantcalled?”Ialreadyknowit’shislastname,butIdon’twanthimtoknowIgoogledhim.
“Corrigan’s.”
“IsitthesamekindoffoodasBib’s?”
“Sortof.It’sfinedining,butwithanItalian-inspiredmenu.”Herollsontohisside,proppinghisphoneonsomethingsothathe’smirroringmyposition.Itfeelslikeoldtimeswhenwe’dstayuplatechattingonmybed.“Idon’twanttotalkaboutme.Howareyou?How’sthefloralbusiness?What’syourdaughterlike?”
“That’salotofquestions.”
“Ihavealotmore,butlet’sstartwiththose.”
“Okay.Well.I’mgood.Exhaustedmostofthetime,butIguessthat’swhatIgetforbeingabusinessownerandasinglemother.”
“Youdon’tlookexhausted.”
Ilaugh.“Goodlighting.”
“WhendoesEmersonturnone?”
“Ontheeleventh.I’mgoingtocry;thisfirstyearwentsofast.”
“Ican’tgetoverhowmuchshelookslikeyou.”
“Youthinkso?”
Henods,andthensays,“Buttheflowershopisgood?You’rehappythere?”
Imovemyheadfromsidetosideandmakeaface.“It’sokay.”
“Whyjustokay?”
“Idon’tknow.IthinkI’mtiredofit.Ortiredingeneral.It’salot,andit’stediousworkfornotverymuchfinancialreturn.Imean,I’mproudthatit’sbeensuccessfulandthatIdidit,butsometimesIdaydreamaboutworkinginafactoryassemblyline.”
“Icanrelate,”hesays.“Theideaofbeingabletogohomeandnotthinkaboutyourjobistempting.”
“Doyouevergetboredofbeingachef?”
“Everynowandthen.It’swhyIopenedCorrigan’s,honestly.Idecidedtotakemoreofanownershiproleandlessofachefrole.Istillcookseveralnightsaweek,butalotofmytimegoestokeepingthembothrunningonthebusinessside.”
“Doyouworkcrazyhours?”
“Ido.ButnothingIcan’tworkadatenightaround.”
Thatmakesmesmile.Ifidgetwithmycomforter,avoidingeyecontactbecauseIknowI’mblushing.“Areyouaskingmeout?”
“Iam.Areyousayingyes?”
“Icanfreeupanight.”
We’rebothsmilingnow.ButthenAtlasclearshisthroat,likehe’spreparingforacaveat.“CanIaskyouadifficultquestion?”
“Okay.”Itrytohidemynervesoverwhathe’sabouttoask.
“Earliertodayyoumentionedyourlifewascomplicated.Ifthis…us…becomessomething,isitreallygoingtobeanissueforRyle?”
Idon’tevenhesitate.“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Hedoesn’tlikeyou.”
“Mespecificallyoranyguyyoumightpotentiallydate?”
Iscrunchupmynose.“You.Specificallyyou.”
“Becauseofthefightatmyrestaurant?”
“Becauseofalotofthings,”Iadmit.Irollontomybackandmovemyphonewithme.“Heblamesmostofourfightsonyou.”Atlasisclearlyconfused,soIelaboratewithoutmakingthingstoouncomfortable.“RememberwhenwewereteenagersandIusedtowriteinmyjournal?”
“Ido.Eventhoughyouneverletmereadanything.”
“Well,Rylefoundthejournals.Andhereadthem.Andhedidn’tlikewhatheread.”
Atlassighs.“Lily,wewerekids.”
“Jealousydoesn’thaveanexpirationdate,apparently.”
Atlaspresseshislipsintoathinlineforamoment,likehe’sattemptingtopushdownhisfrustration.“Ireallyhatethatyou’restressingoverhispotentialreactiontothingsthathaven’tevenhappenedyet.ButIgetit.It’stheunfortunatepositionyou’rein.”Helooksatmereassuringly.“We’lltakeitonestepatatime,okay?”
“Oneveryslowstepatatime,”Isuggest.
“Deal.Slowsteps.”Atlasadjuststhepillowbeneathhishead.“Iusedtoseeyouwritinginthosejournals.IalwayswonderedwhatyouwroteaboutmeIfyouwroteaboutme.”
“Almosteverythingwasaboutyou.”
“Doyoustillhavethem?”
“Yeah,they’reinaboxinmycloset.”
Atlassitsup.“Readmesomething.”
“No.God,no.”
“Lily.”
Helookssohopefulandexcitedatthepossibility,butIcan’treadmyteenagethoughtsoutloudtohimoverFaceTime.I’mgrowingredjustthinkingaboutit.
“Please?”
Icovermyfacewithahand.“No,don’tbeg.”I’llgiveintothosebluepuppy-dogeyesifhedoesn’tstoplookingatmelikeheis.
Hecanseehe’swearingmedown.“Lily,IhaveachedsinceIwasateenagertoknowwhatyouthoughtofme.Oneparagraph.Justgivemethatmuch.”
HowcanIsaynotothat?Igroanandtossthephoneonthebedindefeat.“Givemetwominutes.”Iwalktomyclosetandpulldownthebox.Icarryitovertomybedandbeginflippingthroughthejournalstofindsomethingthatwon’tembarrassmetoomuch.“Whatdoyouwantmetoread?Myretellingofourfirstkiss?”
“No,we’regoingslow,remember?”Hesaysthatteasingly.“Startwithsomethingfromthebeginning.”
That’smucheasier.IgrabthefirstjournalandflipthroughituntilIfindsomethingthatlooksshortandnottoohumiliating.“DoyourememberthenightIcametoyoucryingbecausemyparentswerefighting?”
“Iremember,”hesays.Hesettlesintohispillowandputsonearmbehindhishead.
Irollmyeyes.“GetcomfywhileImortifymyself,”Imutter.
“It’sme,Lily.It’sus.There’snothingtobeembarrassedabout.”
Hisvoicestillhasthatsamecalmingeffectit’salwayshad.Isitcross-leggedandholdthephonewithonehandandmyjournalintheother,andIbegintoread.
Afewsecondslaterthebackdooropenedandhelookedbehindme,thentotheleftandrightofme.Itwasn’tuntilhelookedatmyfacethathesawIwascrying.
“Youokay?”heasked,steppingoutside.Iusedmyshirttowipeawaymytears,andnoticedhecameoutsideinsteadofinvitingmein.Isatdownontheporchstepandhesatdownnexttome.
“I’mfine,”Isaid.“I’mjustmad.SometimesIcrywhenIgetmad.”
Hereachedoverandtuckedmyhairbehindmyear.IlikeditwhenhedidthatandIsuddenlywasn’tnearlyasmadanymore.Thenheputhisarmaroundmeandpulledmetohimsothatmyheadwasrestingonhisshoulder.Idon’tknowhowhecalmedmedownwithouteventalking,buthedid.Somepeoplejusthaveacalmingpresenceaboutthemandhe’soneofthosepeople.Completelyoppositeofmyfather.
Wesatlikethatforawhile,untilIsawmybedroomlightturnon.
“Youshouldgo,”hewhispered.Wecouldbothseemymomstandinginmybedroomlookingforme.Itwasn’tuntilthatmomentthatIrealizedwhataperfectviewhehasofmybedroom
AsIwalkedbackhome,ItriedtothinkabouttheentiretimeAtlashasbeeninthathouse.ItriedtorecallifI’dwalkedaroundafterdarkwiththelightonatnight,becauseallInormallywearinmyroomatnightisaT-shirt.
Here’swhat’scrazyaboutthat,Ellen:IwaskindofhopingIhad.
—Lily
Atlasisn’tsmilingwhenIfinishreading.He’sstaringatmewithalotoffeeling,andtheheavinessinhiseyesismakingmychesttight.
“Weweresoyoung,”hesays.Hisvoicecarriesalittlebitofacheinit
“Iknow.Tooyoungtodealwiththestuffwedealtwith.Especiallyyou.”
Atlasisn’tlookingathisphoneanymore,buthe’smovinghisheadinagreement.Themoodhasshifted,andIcantellhe’sthinkingaboutsomethingelseentirely.Itbringsmebacktowhathetriedtobrushoffearlierwhenhesaidit’sbeenoneofthoseweeks
“What’sbotheringyou?”
Hiseyesreturntohisphone.Heseemslikehemightbrushitoffagain,butthenhejustsighsandreadjustshimselfsothathe’ssittinghigherupagainsthisheadboard.“Someonevandalizedtherestaurants.”
“Bothofthem?”
Henods.“Yeah,itstartedafewdaysago.”
“Youthinkit’ssomeoneyouknow?”
“It’snotanyoneIrecognize,butthesecurityfootagewasn’tveryclear.Ihaven’treportedittothepoliceyet.”
“Whyhaven’tyou?”
Hiseyebrowsfurrow.“Whoeveritisseemsyounger—maybeintheirteens.IguessI’mworriedtheymightbeinasimilarsituationtotheoneIwasinbackthen.Destitute.”Thetensioninhiseyeseasesabit.“Andwhatiftheydon’thaveaLilytosavethem?”
Ittakesafewsecondsforwhathesaystoregister.Whenitdoes,Idon’tsmile.Iswallowthelumpinmythroat,hopinghecan’tseemyinternalreactiontothat.It’snotthefirsttimehe’smentionedIsavedhimbackthen,buteverytimehesaysit,Iwanttoarguewithhim.Ididn’tsavehim.AllIdidwasfallinlovewithhim.
IcanseewhyIfellinlovewithhim.Whatownerismoreconcernedaboutthesituationofthepersonvandalizingtheirbusinessthantheyarewiththeactualdamagebeingdone?“ConsiderateAtlas,”Iwhisper.
“Whatwasthat?”hesays.
Ididn’tmeantosaythatoutloud.Islideahandovertheheatmovingacrossmyneck.“Nothing.”
Atlasclearshisthroat,leaningforward.Asubtlesmilematerializes.“Backtoyourjournal,”hesays.“IwonderedifyouknewIcouldseeintoyourbedroomwindowbackthen,becauseafterthatnight,youleftthatlightonahellofalot.”
Ilaugh,gladhe’slighteningthemood.“Youdidn’thaveatelevision.Iwantedtogiveyousomethingtowatch.”
Hegroans.“Lily,youhavetoletmereadtherest.”
“No.”
“Youlockedmeinaclosettoday.Lettingmereadyourjournalswouldbeagoodwaytoapologizeforthat.”
“Ithoughtyouweren’toffended.”
“Maybeit’sadelayedoffense.”Hebeginstonodslowly.“Yeah…startingtofeelitnow.I’mreallyoffended.”
I’mlaughingwhenEmmybeginstoworkupacryacrossthehall.IsighbecauseIdon’twanttohangup,butI’malsonotthemomwhocanletherchildcryitout.“Emmy’swakingup.Ihavetogo.Butyouowemeadate.”
“Namethetime,”hesays.
“I’moffonSundays,soaSaturdaynightmightbegood.”
“TomorrowisSaturday,”hesays.“Butwe’regoingslow.”
“Imean…that’sprettyslowifwe’recountingfromthefirstdaywemet.Thatputsalotofyearsbetweenmeetingyouandgoingonafirstdatewithyou.”
“Sixo’clock?”
Ismile.“Sixisperfect.”
AssoonasIsaythat,Atlassqueezeshiseyesshutfortwoseconds.“Wait.Ican’ttomorrow.Shit.We’rehostinganevent;theyneedmeattherestaurant.Sunday?”
“IhaveEmmySunday.I’dratherwaitbeforebringingheraroundyou.”
“Igetthat,”Atlassays.“NextSaturday?”
“That’llgivemetimetolineupsomeonetowatchher.”
Atlasgrins.“It’sadate,then.”Hestandsupandbeginswalkingthroughhisbedroom.“You’reoffonSundays,right?CanIcallyouthisSunday?”
“Whenyousay‘call,’doyoumeanvideochat?Iwanttobepreparedthistime.”
“Youcouldn’tbeunpreparedifyoutried,”hesays.“Andyes,it’llbeaFaceTime.WhywouldIwastetimewithaphonecallwhenIcanlookatyou?”
IlikethisflirtysideofAtlas.Ihavetobitemybottomlipfortwosecondsinordertoholdbackmygrin.“Goodnight,Atlas.”
“?’Night,Lily.”
Eventhewayhemakessuchintenseeyecontactwhilesayinggoodbyemakesmystomachflip.Iendthecallandpressmyfaceintomypillow.IsqueallikeI’msixteenagain.ChapterNineAtlas
“Letmeseeapicture,”Theosays.He’ssittingonthebackstepswatchingmepickupshatteredglassandseveralbagsoftrashfromthethirdincident,whichoccurredlastnight.BradcalledthismorningtoletmeknowBib’swashitagain.HeandTheometmeheretocleanitup,eventhoughItoldhimnottoworryaboutcoming.Ihatewhenmyemployeeshavetoshowupforanythingontheonlydayoftheweekwe’reclosed.
“Idon’thaveapictureofher,”IsaytoTheo.
“Soshe’sugly?”
Itosstheboxofglassintothedumpster.“She’sgorgeousandwayoutofmyleague.”
“Uglywouldstillbeoutofyourleague,”hedeadpans.“Shedoesn’thavesocialmedia?”
“Shedoes,butit’ssettoprivate.”
“Youaren’therfriendonanything?Facebook?Instagram?DoyouevenhaveaSnapchat?”
“WhatdoyouknowaboutSnapchat?Youdon’tevenhaveaphone.”
“Ihavemyways,”hesays.
Hisdadcomesbackoutsidewithatrashbag.Heholdsitopen,andwestartthrowingsomeofthescatteredgarbageinitwhileTheoremainsonthesteps.“Iwouldhelp,butIjusttookashower,”hesays.
“Youshoweredyesterday,”Bradsays.
“Yeah,andI’mstillclean.”Theofocusesonmeagain.“Doyouhavesocialmedia?”
“No,Idon’thavetimeforthat.”
“Thenhowdoyouknowherstuffissettoprivate?”
I’veoccasionallyattemptedtolookheruponline,andasmuchasIdon’twanttoadmitthat,I’mnotsurethere’sapersononthisplanetwhohasn’tdoneafewGooglesearchesonpeoplefromtheirpast.“I’velookedherupbefore.Youhavetohaveaprofileandfollowhertoseeherstuff.”
“Somakeaprofileandfollowher,”Theosays.“Iswear,sometimesyoumakethingsharderthantheyneedtobe.”
“It’scomplicated.Shehasanex-husbandwhodoesn’tlikeme,andifhesawthatwewerefriendsonlineitmightbecomeanissueforher.”
“Whydoesn’thelikeyou?”Theoasks.
“Wegotintoafight.Hereattherestaurant,actually,”Isay,nudgingmyheadtowardthebuilding.
Theo’seyebrowsliftslightly.“Seriously?Likearealfight?”
Bradstraightensup.“Wait.ThatguywasLily’shusband?”
“Ithoughtyouknewthat,”Isay.
“Noneofusknewwhohewas,orwhyyouwerefightinghim.Thatwastheonlytimewe’veeverseenyoukicksomeoneoutoftherestaurant,though.Makessomuchsensenow.”
IguessthisisthefirsttimeI’vetalkedaboutitsinceithappened.IrememberIleftforthenightrightafterthatfightwithRyle,sonoonehadachancetoaskmeaboutit.WhenIcamebacktoworkthefollowingMonday,peoplecouldprobablyreadmymoodandseethatIstilldidn’twanttotalkaboutit.
“Whatdidyougetintoafightabout?”Theoasks.
IglanceatBrad,becausehe’sawareofwhatLilywentthrough.LilytoldhimandDarinatmyhouse.ButBradlookslikehe’sleavingituptomewhetherornotI’mhonestwithTheo.Iusuallyamaboutalmostanything,butit’snotmyplacetoshareLily’sbusiness
“Idon’tevenremember,”Imutter
IdothinkthiscouldbeagoodteachingmomentwithTheoabouthownevertotreatapartner,butit’sapartofLily’slifeIdon’tfeelcomfortabletalkingaboutwithoutherpresent.It’salsoapartofherlifeIshouldn’thaveinterferedwith,eventhoughIwouldn’ttakeitbackifgiventhechance.AsimmatureasmyreactionmighthavebeenthatnightwhenIhitRyle,Iwasholdingback.Iwantedtodomorethanjustpunchhim.Ihadneverbeenthatangryatanotherhuman—notevenmymotherorstepfather.NotevenLily’sfather.
It’sonethingtodislikesomeoneforhowtheytreatme,butit’sanentirelydifferentkindofangerwhenthepersonIadmirethemostinthisworldismistreated.
Myphonebeginstobuzzinmypocket.IquicklypullitoutandseethatLilyisattemptingtoreturnmyFaceTimefromanhourago.Shewasdrivingandsaidshewouldcallmewhenshegothome
We’veexchangedseveraltextssinceourchatonFriday,butI’vebeenanxioustotalktoherface-to-faceagain.
“Isthather?”Theoasks,perkingup.
Inodandtrytopasshimonthesteps,buthestandsupandfollowsmeintotherestaurant.
“Seriously?”Iask,facinghim.
“Iwanttoseewhatshelookslike.”
IhavetoansweritbeforeImissthecall,soIslidemyfingeracrossthescreenwhiletryingtoshutTheooutside.“I’llscreenshotitforyou.Gohelpyourdad.”Thevideoconnects,andTheoisstilltryingtopushhiswayinside.“Hey,”Isay,smilingatLilyonthescreen.
“Hey,”Lilysays.
“Letmesee,”Theowhispers,snakinghisarmaroundthedoorinanattempttosnatchmyphone.
“Givemeasecond,Lily.”Iholdthephonetomychestsothatshecan’tseeanything,andthenIopenthebackdoorfarenoughtopressmypalmagainstTheo’sface.Iguidehimbackdownthetopstep.“Brad,getyourchild.”
“Theo,comehere,”Bradsays.“Helpmewiththis.”
Theo’sshouldersslump,buthefinallyrelentsandturnstowardhisfather.“ButI’mclean,”hemumbles.
Iclosethedoorandpullthephoneawayfrommychest.Lilyislaughing.“Whatwasthat?”
“Nothing.”Iwalktomyofficeandcloseandlockthedoorforprivacy.“How’syourday?”Itakeaseatonthecouch.
“Good.Wejustgotbackfromlunchwithmymotherandherboyfriend.WenttoalittlesandwichshoponBorden;itwascute.”
“Howisyourmother?”Wehaven’ttalkedaboutherparentsatall,otherthanhermentioningherfatherpassedaway.
“She’sreallygood,”Lilysays.“She’sbeendatingaguynamedRob.Hemakesherhappy,althoughit’salittleweirdseeinghergiddyoveraman.Ilikehim,though.”
“ShelivesinBostonnow?”
“Yeah,shemovedhereaftermyfatherdiedtobeclosertome.”
“That’sgood.I’mgladyouhavefamilyhere.”
“Whataboutyou?DoesyourunclestillliveinBoston?”
Myuncle?
Oh.Ididtellherthat.Isqueezethebackofmyneckandwince.“Myuncle.”Ican’tremembertheexactlieItoldherbackthen—it’sbeensolong.“MyunclediedwhenIwasnine,Lily.”
Hereyebrowswrinkleinconfusion.“No,youmovedinwithanunclewhenyouwereeighteen.It’swhyyouleft.”
Isigh,wishingIcouldgobackandredomostofourtimetogetherbackthen,andthethingsItoldherorfailedtotellherinordertospareherfeelings.Butwouldn’tweallgobackifwecouldredoourteenageyears?“Iliedtoyou.Ididn’thaveanuncleinBostonatthatpoint.”
“What?”She’sstillshakingherhead,tryingtomakeitmakesense.Shedoesn’tseemangry,though.Moreconfusedthananything.“Thenwhodidyougolivewith?”
“Noone.Icouldn’tkeepsneakingintoyourbedroomforever.Iknewitwouldn’tendwell,andotherthanyou,therewasnothinginthattownthatcouldhelpmebettermysituation.Bostonhadsheltersandresources.Itoldyoumyunclewasstillalivesoyouwouldn’tworryaboutme.”
Lily’sheadfallsbackagainstherheadboardandshecloseshereyesforabit.“Atlas.”Shesaysmynamewithsympathy.Whensheopenshereyesagain,itlookslikeshe’sattemptingnottotearup.“Idon’tknowwhattosay.Ithoughtyouhadfamily.”
“I’msorryIlied.Iwasn’ttryingtobemalicious,Ijustwantedtospare—”
“Don’tapologize,”shesays,interruptingme.“Youdidtherightthing.Winterwasabouttohit,andyoumightnothavesurviveditinthathouse.”Shewipesatatear.“Ican’timaginehowhardthatwas.MovingtoBostonatthatagewithnothing.Noone.”
“Itworkedout,”Isay,flashingagrin.“Itallworkedout.”I’mattemptingtopullheroutofthemoodIjustsunkherin.“Don’tthinkaboutwhereweusedtobe;justthinkaboutwhereweare.”
Shesmiles.“Whereareyourightnow?Isthatyouroffice?”
“Itis.”Ispinthephonearoundsoshecangetaglimpseofit.“It’ssmall.Justacouchandacomputer,butI’mrarelyinhere.Ispendmostofmytimeinthekitchen.”
“AreyouatBib’s?”
“Yeah.BothrestaurantsareclosedonSundays—I’mjustherecleaningup.”
“Ican’twaittovisitCorrigan’s.Isthatwherewe’regoingonourdatenextSaturday?”
Ilaugh.“NowayamIbringingyoutoeitherofmyrestaurantsonadate.ThepeopleIworkwitharetoocuriousaboutmypersonallife.”
Shegrins.“Funny,becauseI’mcuriousaboutyourpersonallife,too.”
“I’manopenbookforyou.Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”
Shecontemplatesthatforseveralseconds,andthencomesbackwith,“Iwanttoknowwhothepeopleinyourlifeare.Youdidn’treallyhaveanyonewhenwewereteenagers,butyou’reanadultnow,withbusinessesandfriendsandawholelifeIknowverylittleabout.Whoareyourpeople,AtlasCorrigan?”
Idon’tknowhowtorespondtothatwithanythingbutlaughter.
Shedoesn’tsmileinreturn,though,whichmakesmethinkshe’saskingthequestionmoreoutofconcernformethancuriosity.Ilookathergently,hopingtoeasesomeofthatworry.“Ihavefriends,”Isay.“Someofthemyoumetawhilebackatmyhouse.Idon’thavefamily,butit’snotavoidIfeel.Ilikemycareer,andmylife.”Ipause,andthensaysomethingcompletelyhonest.“I’mhappy,ifthat’swhatyou’rewondering.”
Iseethecornerofhermouthlift.“Good.Iwasalwayscuriousaboutwhereyouendedup.Itriedtofindyouonsocialmedia,butIdidn’thaveanyluck.”
Thatmakesmelaugh,consideringTheoandIjusthadthisconversation.“Idon’tusesocialmediamuch.”IfItoldherI’duseiteverydayifherpagesweren’tprivate,Theomightsaythatconfessionwouldscareheroff.“Ihaveprofilesfortherestaurants,buttwoofmyemployeesmanagethem.”Iletmyheadfallbackagainstthecouch.“I’mtoobusyforit.IdownloadedTikTokafewmonthsago,butthatwasamistake.Suckedmeinforhoursonenight,andImissedameetingthenextmorning.Ideletedtheapplaterthatday.”
Lilylaughs.“IwoulddojustaboutanythingtowatchyoumakeTikTokvideos.”
“Nevergonnahappen.”
Lily’sattentionisstolenawayforamoment,andthenshestartstoliftuponherbed,butpauses.“Holdonasecond.Ineedtosetmyphonedown.”Shedropsthephone,butIdon’tthinksherealizesitcatchesonsomethingandflipssothatit’satanangle.Thecameraisonher,andIseeheradjustEmersonfromonebreasttoanother.It’sonlyafewseconds,almosttooquickformetorealizewhat’shappeningbeforeit’sover.Idon’tthinkshemeantforthecameratobepointedather
Whenshenoticesthephone,hereyesgowideforasecond,andthenthescreengoesblackassoonasherhandmeetsit.Whenit’spointedatherfaceagain,she’scoveringhereyeswithsplayedfingers.“Iamsosorry.”
“Forwhat?”
“IthinkIjustflashedyou.”
“Youdid,butit’snotsomethingyoushouldapologizefor.Ishouldthankyou.”
Shelaughs,appearingtoappreciatethatcomment.“Nothingyouhaven’tseenbefore,”shesayswithanadorablyembarrassedshrug.Sheadjustsapillowunderthearmshe’susingtoholdEmersonwhileshebreastfeeds.“I’mtryingtoweanher,sinceshe’sabouttoturnone.Weweredowntoonceaday,butSundaysarehardbecauseI’mwithherallday.”Shescrunchesuphernose.“I’msorry.Idoubtyouwanttoknowbreastfeedingdetails.”
“Ican’tthinkofasinglesubjectyoucoulddiscussthatwouldboreme.”
“Oh,IbetIcanthinkofonebeforeourdate,”shesays,treatingmycommentlikeit’sachallenge.Sheglancesawayfromherphonescreen.Ican’tseeEmerson,butIcantellLily’slookingdownatherbecauseshegetsthissmileonherfacethatIonlyseewhenshe’stalkingaboutorlookingatherdaughter.It’sasmilebornfrompride,andoneofmyfavoriteexpressionstoseeflashacrossLily’sface.
“She’sfallingasleep,”Lilywhispers.“Ishouldgo.”
“Yeah,Ishouldprobablygo,too.”Idon’twanttoleaveBradandTheotocleanupthemajorityofthedamageoutsidewithoutme.
“Imightcallyoulatertonight,ifthat’sokay,”Lilysays.
“Ofcourseitis.”IrememberwhatTheosaidaboutwantingtoseeapictureofLily,sobeforesheendsthecall,Itakeaquickscreenshot.Itmakesanobviousscreenshotnoise,andLilytiltsherheadcuriously.
“Didyoujusttakea—”
“Iwantedapictureofyou,”Isayquickly.“Bye,Lily.”IendthecallbeforeIletmyselfbetooembarrassedbythat.Ihadnoideaitwouldmakethatnoiseandthatshewouldbeabletohearit.Theobetterappreciatethis.
IopenmyofficedoorandfindBradsweepingthekitchen.I’mconfused,becausethekitcheniscleanedafterclosing,andthedamagedonetotherestaurantovernightwascontainedtotheoutside.“Didtheynotcleanthefloorslastnight?”
“Kitchen’sfine—I’mjustpretendingtosweep,”hesays.Bradclockstheconfusiononmyface,soheelaborates.“IwantedTheotohavetocleanupmostofthemessoutsidesincehehatesdoingitsomuch.It’sadadthing.”
“Oh.Makessense.”Itmakesnosense,butIleaveBradtofake-sweepandheadbackoutside.
Theoisgrimacingasheuseshisthumbandindexfingertobarelyliftapieceoftrash.“Thisissogross,”hemutters,droppingitintothebag.“Youneedtohireaprivatesecurityguardorsomething;thisisgettingoutofhand.”
That’snotabadidea.
IholdmyphoneinfrontofTheo’sfacesohecanseethepictureofLilyIjustscreenshotted.
Hepullshisneckback,surprised.“That’sLily?”
“That’sLily.”IslidemyphoneintomypocketandtakethetrashbagfromTheo.
“Thatexplainsit.”Hedropsdownontothetopstep.
“Explainswhat?”
“Whyyougetsotongue-tiedaroundherandsaythestupidstuffyousay.”
IdisagreewithhisbeliefthatthethingsIsaytoherarestupid,buthe’srightaboutonething.She’ssobeautiful,Idosometimesfeeltongue-tiedaroundher.“Ican’twaituntilyoustartdating,”Isay.“I’mgoingtogiveyousomuchshit.”ChapterTenLily
“Mom,it’sfine.Really.”I’mholdingthephonebetweenmycheekandmyneck.“I’malreadyatAllysa’s;it’snotaninconvenienceatall.”
“Areyousure?Robsaidhecouldwatchher.”
“No,Robneedstotakecareofyou.”
“Okay.TellEmmyhernannieissorry.”
“Nannie?Isthatwhatyou’regoingbynow?”
“I’mtryingitout,”shesays.“Ididn’tlikegrandma.”
She’sreferredtoherselfasagrandmotherinfourdifferentwayssinceEmmywasborn,butnoneofthemhavestuckyet.“Loveyou,Mom.Hopeyoufeelbetter.”
“Loveyou,too.”
IendthecallandthengrabEmmyoutofhercarseat.I’mrelievedtoseeRyle’scarisn’tinhisassignedspot.Iwasn’tplanningoncomingtothebuildingwhereheandAllysabothhaveapartments,butmymotherandEmmycamedownwiththesameillnessthisweek.
WhenIpickedherupfrommymother’syesterday,Emmyhadaslightfever.Itpeakedaroundtwointhemorning,andnothingIdidhelped.ItwasgonebythetimeIhadtogetreadyforworktoday,though.Butthenithitmymotherthisafternoonwithavengeance,andIhadtogopickupEmmyinthemiddleoftheworkday.IhadalittlebitofapanicmomentbecausetonightismydatewithAtlas.IthoughtIwasgoingtohavetocancel,butAllysasavedtheday.
Ididn’ttellherwhyIneededasitter.ItextedherandaskedifshecouldwatchEmmyforafewhoursthisafternoonandintotonight,andsherespondedwithoneword.Gimme.
IwarnedherthatEmmyhadafeverlastnight,butEmmyandRyleespendsomuchtimetogether,westoppedworryingaboutonegettingtheothersickmonthsago,sinceithappenseveryotherweek.EmmyprobablygotthefeverfromRyleetobeginwith.
IknockonAllysa’sdoor,andwhensheopensit,she’simmediatelygrabbingforEmerson.“Comehere,”shesays.ShepullsEmersontoherandsqueezesher.“Shesmellssogood.Ryleedoesn’tsmelllikeababyanymore.Makesmesad.”Shepushesthedooropentoinvitemein,andwhenIwalkinsideholdingthediaperbag,Allysafinallyregistersmyoutfit.“Holdup,”shesays.Shepointsafingerupanddownmybody.“What’sthis?WhyamIbabysitting?”
Ireallydon’twanttotellherwhereI’mgoing,butit’sAllysa.Shereadsmebetterthananyone.Shecanseethehesitationonmyfaceandtakesitforexactlywhatitis.“Isthisadateoutfit?”Shewhispersitandthenclosesthefrontdoor.“IsittheGreekgod?”
“Atlas.Yes.Pleasedon’ttellyourbrother.”
RightwhenIsaythat,InoticeMarshallstandingclosebyinthelivingroom.Heimmediatelycovershisearsandsays,“Iheardnothing.Iseenothing.Lalalalalala.”Hewalksthroughthefoyeranddisappearsintothekitchen.
Allysabrusheshispresenceoffwithawave.“He’ssogoodatbeingneutral;don’tworryabouthim.”Shemotionsformetofollowherintothelivingroom.Ryleeisinaplaypen,soAllysawalksEmmyovertoher.“Rylee,lookwho’shere!”
RyleesmileswhensheseesEmmy.Thegirlsarestartingtoshowexcitementineachother’spresence.Ilovethatthey’renottoofarapartinage.Thesix-monthgapfeelssmallerandsmallertheolderEmmygets.
“Whereishetakingyou?”
Ismoothmyhandsdownmyoutfit,andthenflickoffapieceoflint.“Todinner,butI’veneverbeentothisplace.IhopeI’mnotoverdressed.”
“Isthisyourfirstdatewithhim?Youseemnervous.”
“Itisourfirstdate,andIamnervous.Butit’sadifferentkindofnervous.Agoodnervous.Iknowhimsowellalready,soIdon’tfeellikeI’mabouttohavetospendaneveningwithastranger.”
Allysastudiesmeforamomentwithgentleeyes.“Youseemexcited.I’vemissedthissideofyou.”
“Yeah.Metoo.”IbendtogivebothEmmyandRyleekisses.“Iwon’tbeouttoolate.IhavetogetbacktotheshopandcloseupforLucy,sohe’spickingmeupthere.Ishouldbebackaroundninethirty,sotrytokeepherupuntilthenifyoudon’tmind.”
“Whyareyoucomingbacksoearly?That’slame.”
“Ididn’tsleeplastnight.I’mexhausted.ButIdon’twanttocancelthedate,soI’mgoingtopowerthrough.”
“Ugh.Motherhood,”Allysasays,rollinghereyes.“I’llkeepherawake—gohavefun.Drinkacoffeeorafive-hourorsomething.”
I’velostcountofthenumberofcoffeesI’vehadtoday.“Loveyou.Thanksforsavingtheday,”Isayonmywayoutthedoor.
“That’swhatI’mherefor,”shesingsongs.ChapterElevenAtlas
Iwantedthedaytogobyfaster,soIdecidedtohelpoutinthekitchenatBib’seventhoughIpreparedforthenightwithafullstaff.NowIsmelllikegarlic.ThisisthethirdtimeI’vetriedscrubbingthesmelloff,tonoavail.ButifIdon’tleavenow,I’llbelatemeetingher.
We’retakingitslow,soI’mpickingherupatherworkratherthanherapartment.Ihavenoideawhereshelivesnow,orifshestilllivesintheapartmentbuildingIshowedupatalmosttwoyearsagowhensheneededhelp.Forwhateverreason,whereweliveissomethingthathasn’tcomeupinourconversations.Sheprobablydoesn’tevenknowIsoldmyhouseandmovedintothecityearlierthisyear.I’mcurioushowfarapartwelivefromeachothernow.
“Ismellcologne,”Darinsaysafterhepassesme.Hestopswalkingtowardthefreezerandturnstogivemeaonce-over.“Whyareyouwearingcologne?Whyareyoudressedup?”
Isniffmyhands.“Idon’tsmelllikegarlic?”
“No,yousmelllikeyou’regoingout.Areyouleaving?”
“Iamleaving.I’llbebackaroundclosingtime,though.IthinkImightstaythenighthereandseeifIcancatchwhoeverisvandalizingtherestaurants.”Therewereseveraldaysofaquietstretchbetweenincidents,butwegothitforafourthtimelastnight.Itwasn’ttoocostly,though.Thistimetheyjustscatteredthetrasheverywhereagain.That’saloteasiertocleanupthanrepaintinghasbeen.ThatmaybebecauseBradkeepsbringingTheotohelp.IshouldprobablygiveTheoaheads-upthatthemorehecomplainsaboutachore,themorelikelyhe’sgoingtobemadetodothatchore.
IplantoconfrontwhoeverisdoingthedamagetonightandseeifIcan’tfigureouttheirmotiveandtalkthemdownbeforeIgetthepoliceinvolved.I’mconfidentmostthingscanbehandledwithasimple,honestconversationratherthanadramaticintervention,butIhavenoideawhoI’mdealingwith.
Darinleansinandquietlysays,“Whoyougoingoutwith?Lily?”
Idrymyhandsonatowelandnodonce.
Darinsmilesandwalksaway.IlikethatmyfriendslikeLily.Theybroughtherupacoupleoftimesafterourpokernight,butIthinktheycouldtellitbotheredme.Ididn’tlikediscussingLilywhenshewasn’tapartofmylife.
Butnowitlookslikethere’sapossibilityshe’sbackinthepicture.Maybe.ThismightbewhyI’msonervous:becauseIknowwhatahugeriskLilyistakingbygoingoutwithmetonight.Ifthingsprogresswithus,thatcouldimpactherlifeinnegativeways.WhichmightbewhyIstartedtofeeltheimmensepressuretwohoursagoofmakingsurethisdateisworthitforher.
ButIsmelllikeI’mterrifiedofvampires,soit’salreadynotgoingmyway.
Ipullintotheparkinglotatfiveminutestosix.Lilymusthavebeenwaitingforme,becausesheexitsherstoreandlocksthedoorbehindherbeforeI’mevenoutofmycar.
AssoonasIlayeyesonher,Igetevenmorenervous.Shelooksincredible.She’swearingablackjumpsuitandheels.Shepullsonherjacketandmeetsmeinthemiddleoftheparkinglot.
Ileaninandgreetherwithaquickkissonhercheek.“Youlookstunning.”IswearshereddensalittleafterIsaythat.
“DoI?Ididn’tsleeplastnight.IfeellikeIlookninety.”
“Whydidn’tyousleep?”
“Emmyranafeverallnight.She’sbetternow,but…”Lilyyawns.“I’msorry.Ijustdrankcoffee.It’llhitinaminute.”
“It’sokay.I’mnottired,butIdosmelllikegarlic.”
“Ilikegarlic.”
“Goodthing.”
Lilyleansbackonherheelsandlooksdownatheroutfit.“Iwasn’tsurewhattowearsinceI’veneverbeentothisrestaurant.”
“I’veneverbeenthere,either,soIhavenoidea.ButIhaveafeelingyou’llbefine.”IchoseanewrestaurantI’vebeenwantingtotry.It’saboutaforty-five-minutedrive,butIfiguredthatwouldgiveustimetocatchuponthewayover.
“Ihaveapresentforyou,”shesays.“It’sinmycar.Letmegrabit.”
Ifollowhertohercarandwatchherretrievesomethingfromtheconsole.Whenshehandsittome,Ican’tholdbackasmile.“Isthisyourjournal?”Shereadanotherquickpassagetomelastnight,butshewassoembarrassedreadingitoutloud,sherefusedtogivememore.
“That’soneofthem.We’llseehowtonightgoesbeforeIgiveyoutheotherone.”
“Nopressureoranything.”Iwalkhertomycarandopenthepassengerdoorforher.ShestartstoyawnagainasI’mclosingherdoor.
Ifeelbad,likemaybeshe’stooexhaustedforthisdate.Ihavenoideawhatit’sliketoraiseachild.IfeelkindofselfishthatI’mnotofferingtoreschedule,sobeforeIbackoutoftheparkinglot,Ispeakup.“Ifyou’drathergohomeandsleep,wecandothisnextweekend.”
“There’snothingelseI’dratherdothanthis,Atlas.I’llsleepwhenI’mdead.”Sheclicksherseatbelt.“Youactuallydosmelllikegarlic.”
Ithinkshe’skidding.Lilyusedtojokeallthetimewhenwewereyounger.It’soneofthethingsIlovedmostabouther—thatshealwaysseemedtobeinagoodmooddespiteallthebadthingssurroundingher.It’sthatsamestrengthIadmiredinherinthedaysIwaswithheraftershefoundoutshewaspregnantintheemergencyroom.Iknowthatwasoneofthelowestpointsofherlife,butshewasabletosmilethroughitall,andevenspentanentireeveningimpressingmyfriendswithherhumorduringapokernight.
Everyonehandlesstressdifferently,andnoneofthosewaysisnecessarilywrong,butLilyhandlesitwithgrace.AndgracejusthappenstobethequalityIfindthemostattractiveinpeople.
“How’dyoumanagetogetawayonaSaturdaynight?”Lilyasks.
IhatethatI’mdrivingbecauseIwanttolookatherwhileIrespond.I’veneverseenherlookthis…womanly?Isthatacompliment?Idon’tevenknow.Iprobablyshouldn’tsayitoutloudincaseitisn’t,butwhenLilyandIfellinlove,neitherofuswerewhatwewouldnowconsideradults.Butit’sdifferenttonight.We’regrown-upswithcareers,andshe’samotherandabossandindependent.It’ssexyashell.
TheonlyothertimeI’vespentwithherasadultswaswhenshewastechnicallystillwithRyle,soitfeltwrongthinkingofherthewayIamnow.LikeIwanther.
Ikeepmyfocusontheroadandtrynottocreatealullinourconversation,butIthinkImightbealittleflustered.Thatsurprisesme.
“HowdidImanagegettingaway?”Isay,pretendinglikeI’mmullingoverthequestionratherthanobsessingabouthowmuchIwanttostareather.“Ihiredependablepeople.”
Lilysmilesatthat.“Doyoualwaysworkonweekends?”
Inod.“IusuallyonlytakeoffSundays,whenwe’reclosed.TheoccasionalMonday.”
“Whatdoyouenjoythemostaboutyourjob?”
She’sfullofquestionstonight.Igiveherasidelongglanceandsmile.“Readingthereviews.”
Shemakesanoiselikeshe’sshocked.“I’msorry,”shesays.“Didyousayreviews?Youreadyourrestaurantreviews?”
“Everysingleone.”
“What?OhmyGod,youmustnothaveasingleinsecurity.ImakeSerenarunoursocialmediasoIcanavoidreviews.”
“Yourreviewsaregreat.”
Shepracticallyturnsherentirebodytowardmeintheseat.“Youreadmyreviews?”
“IreadreviewsforanyoneIknowwhoownsabusiness.Isthatweird?”
“It’snotnotweird.”
Ifliponmyblinker.“Ilikereadingreviews.Ifeellikebusinessreviewsareareflectionoftheowner,andIwanttoknowwhatpeoplethinkofmyrestaurants.Theconstructivecriticismhelps.Ihaven’thadthekitchenexperiencealotofchefshave,andcriticsaresomeofthebestteachers.”
“Whatdoyougetoutofreadingreviewsaboutotherpeople’sbusinesses?”
“Nothing,really.Ijustfinditentertaining.”
“DoIhaveanybadones?”Lilylooksawayfromme,halfturningsothatshe’sfacingforwardagain.“Nevermind,don’tanswerthat.I’mjustgoingtopretendthey’reallgoodandthateveryonelovesmyflowers.”
“Everyonedoesloveyourflowers.”
Shepressesherlipstogetherinanattempttosuppresshersmile.“What’syourleast-favoritepartofyourjob?”
Ilovethatshe’saskingmesuchrandomquestions.Itremindsmeofallthenightswewouldstayuplate,andshewouldpeppermewithquestionsaboutmyself.“Upuntillastweek,itwashealthinspections,”Iadmit.“They’reextremelystressful.”
“Whyupuntillastweek?Whatchanged?”
“Thevandalism.”
“Didithappenagain?”
“Yeah,twicethisweek.”
“Andyoustillhavenoideawhoitis?”
Ishakemyhead.“Noclue.”
“Doyouhaveanyangryex-girlfriends?”
“Nah,Idoubtit.Theydon’tseemthetype.”
Lilykicksoffherheelsandpullsoneofherlegsintoherseat,makingherselfmorecomfortable.“Howmanyseriousrelationshipshaveyouhad?”
She’sgoingthere.Okay.“Define‘serious.’?”
“Idon’tknow.Morethantwomonths?”
“One,”Isay.
“Howlongwereyoutogether?”
“Alittlemorethanayear.ImetherwhileIwasinthemilitary.”
“Why’dyoubreakup?”
“Wemovedintogether.”
“That’swhyyoubrokeup?”
“Ithinklivingtogetherescalatedtherealizationthatwewereincompatible.Ormaybewewerejustatdifferentpointsinourlives.Iwasfocusedonmycareer,andherfocuswasonwhichoutfitstoweartotheclubsIwastootiredtogotowithher.WhenIgotoutofthemilitaryandmovedbacktoBoston,shestayedbehindandmovedintoaloftwithtwoofherfriends.”
Lilylaughs.“Icannotpictureyouinaclub.”
“Yeah.That’swhyI’msingle,Iguess.”MyphoneringswithanincomingcallfromCorrigan’s,interruptingusbeforeI’mabletothrowherownquestionbackather.“Ihavetotakethis,”Isay.
“Goahead.”
IanswerthecalloverBluetooth.ItendsupbeingafreezerissuethatrequiresmetomaketwomorephonecallsbeforeI’vegotitsortedoutandarepairtechnicianonthewaythere.WhenI’mfinallyabletogivemyattentionbacktoLily,Iglanceoveratherandfindherasleep,herheadlimpagainsthershoulder.Ihearadaintysnorecomingfromher.
Thecoffeeneverkickedin,Iguess.
Ilethersleepallthewaytotherestaurant.Wepullinabouttenminutestoseven.It’sdark,andtherestaurantlookscrowded,butwehaveafewminutesbeforeIhavetocheckinforourreservation,soIletherrest.
Hersnoreisasendearingassheis.It’sdelicate,almosttoolighttohear.ItakeaquickvideoIcanusetoteaseherwithlater,andthenIreachintothebackseatandgrabherjournal.Iknowshesaidnottoreaditinfrontofher,buttechnicallyI’mnot.She’sasleep.
Iopenittothefirstpageandbeginreading.
Ireadthefirstentry,completelycaptivated.IfeellikeI’mbreakingarulereadingthis,butshe’stheonewhobroughtit.
Ireadthesecondentry.Thenthethird.ThenIlogintomyreservationappandcancelourreservationbecauseunlessIwakeherupthisverysecond,we’regoingtobelate.I’dratherourtablegotosomeoneelse,becauseLilylookslikeshe’sbeenneedingthissleepforawhile.
AndIwanttoreadanotherentry.I’lltakehersomewhereelsefordinneronceshewakesup.
Everywordshewroteistakingmerightbacktowhenwewereteenagers.TherearesomanytimesIwanttolaughatthethingsshesaysandhowshesaysthem,butIstiflemylaughtersothatIdon’tstartleher.
IeventuallyreadapassagethatI’malmostpositiveisleadinguptoourfirstkiss.Ilookattheclockandwe’vealreadybeensittinghereforhalfanhour,butLilyisstillsoundasleep,andIcan’tstopinthemiddleofthisentry.Ikeepreading,hopingshestaysasleeplongenoughformetogettotheendofthisone.
“Ineedtotellyousomething,”hesaid.
Iheldmybreath,notknowingwhathewasgoingtosay.
“Igotintouchwithmyuncletoday.MymomandIusedtolivewithhiminBoston.HetoldmeoncehegetsbackfromhisworktripIcanstaywithhim.”
Ishouldhavebeensohappyforhiminthatmoment.Ishouldhavesmiledandtoldhimcongratulations.ButIfeltalloftheimmaturityofmyagewhenIclosedmyeyesandfeltsorryformyself.
“Areyougoing?”Iasked.
Heshrugged.“Idon’tknow.Iwantedtotalktoyouaboutitfirst.”
Hewassoclosetomeonthebed,Icouldfeelthewarmthofhisbreath.Ialsonoticedhesmelledlikemint,anditmademewonderifheusesbottledwatertobrushhisteethbeforehecomesoverhere.Ialwayssendhimhomeeverydaywithlotsofwater.
Ibroughtmyhanduptothepillowandstartedpullingatafeatherstickingoutofit.WhenIgotitallthewayout,Itwisteditbetweenmyfingers.“Idon’tknowwhattosay,Atlas.I’mhappyyouhaveaplacetostay.Butwhataboutschool?”
“Icouldfinishdownthere,”hesaid.
Inodded.Itsoundedlikehehadalreadymadeuphismind.“Whenareyouleaving?”
IwonderedhowfarawayBostonis.It’sprobablyafewhours,butthat’sawholeworldawaywhenyoudon’townacar.
“Idon’tknowforsurethatIam.”
Idroppedthefeatherbackontothepillowandbroughtmyhandtomyside.“What’sstoppingyou?Youruncleisofferingyouaplacetostay.That’sgood,right?”
Hetightenedhislipstogetherandnodded.ThenhepickedupthefeatherI’dbeenplayingwithandhestartedtwistingitbetweenhisfingers.HelaiditbackdownonthepillowandthenhedidsomethingIwasn’texpecting.Hemovedhisfingerstomylipsandhetouchedthem.
God,Ellen.IthoughtIwasgonnadierightthenandthere.ItwasthemostI’deverfeltinsidemybodyatonetime.Hekepthisfingersthereforafewseconds,andhesaid,“Thankyou,Lily.Foreverything.”Hemovedhisfingersupandthroughmyhair,andthenheleanedforwardandplantedakissonmyforehead.Iwasbreathingsohard,Ihadtoopenmymouthtocatchmoreair.Icouldseehischestmovingjustashardasminewas.HelookeddownatmeandIwatchedashiseyeswentrighttomymouth.“Haveyoueverbeenkissed,Lily?”
IshookmyheadnoandtiltedmyfaceuptohisbecauseIneededhimtochangethatrightthenandthereorIwasn’tgonnabeabletobreathe.
Then—almostasifIweremadeofeggshells—heloweredhismouthtomineandjustresteditthere.Ididn’tknowwhattodonext,butIdidn’tcare.Ididn’tcareifwejuststayedlikethatallnightandneverevenmovedourmouths,itwaseverything.
HislipsclosedovermineandIcouldkindoffeelhishandshaking.Ididwhathewasdoingandstartedtomovemylipslikehewas.IfeltthetipofhistonguebrushacrossmylipsonceandIthoughtmyeyeswereabouttorollbackinmyhead.Hediditagain,andthenathirdtime,soIfinallydidit,too.Whenourtonguestouchedforthefirsttime,Ikindofsmiledalittle,becauseI’dthoughtaboutmyfirstkissalot.Whereitwouldbe,whoitwouldbewith.NeverinamillionyearsdidIimagineitwouldfeellikethis.
Hepushedmeonmybackandpressedhishandagainstmycheekandkeptkissingme.ItjustgotbetterandbetterasIgrewmorecomfortable.Myfavoritemomentwaswhenhepulledbackforasecondandlookeddownatme,thencamebackevenharder.
Idon’tknowhowlongwekissed.Alongtime.Solong,mymouthstartedtohurtandmyeyescouldn’tstayopen.Whenwefellasleep,I’mprettysurehismouthwasstilltouchingmine.
Wedidn’ttalkaboutBostonagain
Istilldon’tknowifhe’sleaving.
—Lily
Wow.
Wow.
IclosethejournalandlookoveratLily.Shewroteourfirstkisswithsomuchdetail,itmakesmefeelinferiortomyteenageself.
Diditactuallyhappenthatway?
Irememberthatnight,butIwasahellofalotmorenervousthanLilydescribedmetobe.It’sfunnyhow,whenyou’reateenager,youthinkyou’retheonlyinexperienced,nervoushumanontheplanet.Youthinkalmosteveryotherteenagerhaslifefiguredoutwaybetterthanyoudo,butitisn’tthatwayatall.Wewerebothscared.Andinfatuated.Andinlove.
Ihadfalleninlovewithherlongbeforeourfirstkiss,though.IlovedhermorethanIhadeverlovedanyonebeforethatmoment.IthinkIlovedhermorethanI’veeverlovedanyoneafterthatmoment.
IthinkIstillmight.
There’ssomuchLilydoesn’tknowaboutthatpartofmylife.SomuchIwanttotellhernowthatI’vereadherversionofsomeofourtimetogether.It’sobviousshehasnocluehowinstrumentalshewasinmylifebackthen.Atatimewheneveryonewasturningtheirbackstome,Lilywastheonlyonewhosteppedup.
She’sstillsoundasleep,soIpulloutmyphoneandopenablanknote.Istarttyping,detailingwhatmylifewaslikebeforesheenteredit.Idon’tmeantowriteasmuchasIdo,butIguessIhavealotIwanttosaytoher.
It’sanothertwentyminutesbeforeIfinallyfinishtypingeverything,andanotherfiveminutesbeforeLilyfinallybeginstorouse.
Isetmyphoneinthecupholder,unsureifI’mgoingtoallowhertoreadwhatIjustwrote.Imightwaitafewdays.Afewweeks.Shewantstotakethingsslow,andI’mnotsurewhatIsaidtowardtheendofthatlettermatchesherideaof“slow.”
Herhandgoesup,andshescratchesherhead.She’sfacingthewindow,soIdon’tseeherfacewhenhereyesopen,butIcantellwhenshe’sawakebecauseshesitsstraightup.Shestaresoutherwindowforabeat,thenswingsherheadinmydirection.Afewstrandsofhairarestucktohercheek.
I’mleaningagainstmydoor,watchinghercasually,asifthisiscompletelynormalfirst-datebehavior.
“Atlas.”Shesaysmynamelikeit’sanapologyandaquestionatthesametime.
“It’sokay.Youweretired.”
Shegrabsherphoneandlooksatthetime.“OhmyGod.”Sheleansforward,pressingherelbowsintoherthighsandherfaceintoherpalms.“Ican’tbelievethis.”
“Lily,it’sfine.Really.”Iholdupthejournal.“Youkeptmecompany.”
Sheeyesthejournalandthengroans.“Thisismortifying.”
Itossthejournalintothebackseat.“Ipersonallyfounditenlightening.”
Lilyhitsmeplayfullyonmyshoulder.“Stoplaughing.Ifeeltoobadforittobefunny.”
“Don’tfeelbad,you’reexhausted.Andprobablyhungry.Wecouldgrababurgeronthedriveback.”
Lilyfallsdramaticallyagainstherseat.“Letthefancycheftakethegirlforfastfoodsinceshesleptthroughherdate.Whynot?”Sheflipsthevisordownandnoticesthehairstucktohercheek.“Wow,Iamsuchamom.Isthisourlastdate?Itis.DidIruinthisalready?Iwouldn’tblameyou.”
Iputthecarinreverse.“NotevencloseaftereverythingIjustread.Notsureanythingcouldtopthisdate.”
“Youhaveverylowstandards,Atlas.”
Ifindherself-deprecationadorablyattractive.“Ihaveaquestionaboutyourjournal.”
“What?”She’swipingawayasmearofmascara.Everythingaboutherseemssodefeatednowthatshethinkssheruinedourdate.Ican’tstopsmiling,though.
“Thenightofourfirstkiss…didyouputtheblanketsinthewasheronpurpose?Wasthatatricktogetmetosleepinyourbed?”
Shescrunchesuphernose.“Youreadthatfar?”
“Youwereasleepforalongtime.”
Shecontemplatesmyquestion,andthennodsanadmission.“Iwantedyoutobemyfirstkissbackthen,andthatwouldn’thavehappenedifyoukeptsleepingonthefloor.”
She’sprobablyrightaboutthat.Anditworked.
It’sstillworking,becausereadingherdescriptionofourfirstkissbroughtbackeveryfeelingshepulledoutofmethatnight.Shecouldsleeptheentirewaybackhome,andI’dstillthinkthiswasthebestdateI’veeverbeenon.ChapterTwelveLily
“Ican’tbelieveyouletmesleepforthatlong.”It’sbeentenminutes,andmystomachisstillrollingfromembarrassment.“Didyoufinishreadingthewholejournal?”
“IstoppedafterIreadaboutourfirstkiss.”
That’sgood.That’snottooembarrassing.ButifhewouldhavereadaboutthefirsttimewehadsexwhileIwassleepingintheseatnexttohim,I’mnotsureIcouldhaverecovered.
“Thisissonotfair,”Imutter.“Youhavetodosomethingmortifyingsothescalesevenout,becauserightnowIfeellikeI’vecompletelyruinedournight.”
Atlaslaughs.“Youthinkmedoingsomethingtomortifymyselfwillmakeyoufeelbetterabouttonight?”
Inod.“Yes,that’sthelawoftheuniverse.Eyeforaneye,humiliationforhumiliation.”
Atlastapshisthumbonhissteeringwheelashemassageshisjawwithhisfreehand.Thenhenudgeshisheadtowardhisphone,whichissittinginthecupholder.“OpentheNotesapponmyphone.Readthefirstone.”
Oh,wow.Iwaskidding,butIsnatchuphisphonesofast.“What’syourpassword?”
“Ninefiveninefive.”
IenterthenumbersandthenglanceoverhishomescreenwhileIhaveitopen.Everyappistuckedneatlyintoafolder.Hehaszerounreadtextsandoneunreademail.“You’reaneatfreak.Whohasoneunreademail?”
“Idon’tlikeclutter,”hesays.“Sideeffectofthemilitary.Howmanyunreademailsdoyouhave?”
“Thousands.”IopentheNotesappandclickonthemostrecentone.AssoonasIseethetwowordsatthetop,Idropthephone,pressingitfacedownonmythigh.“Atlas.”
“Lily.”
Icanfeelmyembarrassmentbeingswallowedupbyawarmwaveofanticipationfallingoverme.“YouwrotemeaDearLilyletter?”
Henodsslowly.“Youwereasleepforquiteawhile.”Whenheglancesatme,hissmilefalters,likehe’sworriedaboutwhateveritishewrote.Hefacesforwardagain,andIcanseetherollofhisthroat.
Ileanmyheadagainstthepassengerwindowandbegintoreadsilently.
DearLily,
You’regoingtobemortifiedwhenyouwakeupandrealizeyoufellasleeponourfirstdate.I’malittletooexcitedforyourreaction.ButyouseemedsotiredwhenIpickedyouup,itactuallymakesmehappytoseeyougettingsomerest.
Thispastweekhasbeensurreal,hasn’tit?IwasbeginningtothinkImayneverbeapartofyourlifeinanysignificantway,andthenpoof,youshowup.
Icouldgoonandonaboutwhatthatrun-inmeanttome,butIpromisedmytherapistI’dstopsayingcheesyshittoyou.Don’tworry,Iplanonbreakingthatpromisemanytimes,butyouaskedifwecouldtakethingsslow,soI’llgiveitafewmoredates.
Instead,IthinkI’mgoingtostealapagefromyourplaybookandtalkaboutourpast.It’sonlyfair.Youletmereadsomeofyourmostintimatethoughtsatsuchavulnerablepointinyourlife,Ifigureit’stheleastIcandotogiveyousomeinsightintomylifeatthattime.
Myversionisalittlegrittier,though.I’lltrytospareyoutheworstofthedetails,butI’mnotsureyoucanfullyknowwhatyourfriendshipmeanttomewithoutknowingwhatIwentthroughbeforeyoucamealong.
Itoldyousomeofit—abouthowIendedupinthepositionIwasin,livinginthatabandonedhouse.ButIhadfelthomelessalotlongerthanthat.Mywholelife,really,eventhoughIhadahouseandamotherand,occasionally,astepfather.
Idon’trememberwhatthingswerelikewhenIwasyoung.Ihavethisfantasythatmaybeshewasagoodmotheronceuponatime.IdorememberadaytripwetooktoCapeCodwherewetriedcoconutshrimpforthefirsttime,butifshewasadecentmotheroutsideofthatoneday,thatonemeal,thatpartofherneverbecameacorememoryforme.
Mycorememorieswerestretchesoftimespentalone,orjusttryingtostayoutofherway.Shewasquicktoangerandquicktorespond.Forthefirsttenorsoyearsofmylife,shewasstrongerandfasterthanme,soIspentthebetterpartofadecadehidingfromherhand,fromhercigarettes,fromthelashofhertongue.
Iknowshewasstressed.Shewasasinglemotherworkingnightstotryandprovideforme,butasmanyexcusesasImadeforherbackthen,I’veseenmyfairshareofsinglemothersnavigatelifejustfinewithoutresortingtothethingsmymotherdid.
You’veseenmyscars.Iwon’tgointothedetails,butasbadasitwas,itgotevenworsewhenshewasonherthirdmarriage.Iwastwelvewhentheymet.
LittledidIknow,theageoftwelvewouldbemyonlypeacefulyear.Shewasalwaysgonebecauseshewaswithhim,andwhenshewashome,shewasactuallyinadecentmoodbecauseshewasfallinginlove.Funnyhowloveforapartnercanmakeorbreakhowsomepeopletreattheirownchildren.
ButtwelveturnedintothirteenturnedintoTimmovinginwithus,andthenextfouryearsofmylifewerehellonearth.WhenIwasn’tmakingmymotherangry,IwasmakingTimangry.WhenIwashome,Iwasbeingyelledat.WhenIwasatschool,thehousewasbeingdestroyedbytheirfights,andI’dbeexpectedtocleanupafterthemwhenIgothome.
Lifewiththemwasanightmare,andbythetimeIwasfinallystrongenoughtotakeupformyself,that’swhenTimdecidedhedidn’twanttolivewithmeanymore.
Mymotherchosehim.Iwasforcedtoleave.Theydidn’thavetoasktwice;Iwasmorethanreadytogo,butthat’sbecauseIhadsomewheretogo.
UntilIdidn’t.IwasgonethreemonthsbeforethefriendIwasstayingwithmovedwithhisfamilytoColorado.
Atthatpoint,Ihadnooneandnowhereelsetogo,andnomoneytogetthereifIdid,soIwasforcedtogobacktomymotherandaskifIcouldcomebackhome.
IstillrememberthedayIshowedbackuptothathouse.Ihadbarelybeengonethreemonths,andtheplacewasalreadyfallingapart.Theyardhadn’tbeenmowedsincethelasttimeI’ddoneitbeforebeingkickedout.Allthewindowscreensweremissing,andtherewasagapingholewherethedoorknobusedtobe.Bythelooksoftheplace,youwouldthinkI’dbeengoneforyears.
Mymother’scarwasinthedriveway,butTim’swasn’t.Itlookedlikehercarhadbeenthereforawhile.Thehoodwasproppedopen,andthereweretoolsscatterednearit,alongwithatleastthirtybeercanssomeonehadshapedintheformofapyramidagainstthegaragedoor.
Eventhenewspapershadpileduponthecrackedconcretewalkway.IrememberpickingthemupandsettingthemononeoftheoldironchairstodryoutbeforeIknockedonthedoor.
ItfeltweirdknockingonthedoorofahouseIhadlivedinforyears,butontheoffchanceTimwashome,Iwasn’tabouttoopenthedoorwithoutpermission.Ihadahousekeystill,butTimhadmadeitveryclearthathe’dturnmeinfortrespassingifIevertriedtouseit.
Icouldn’thaveuseditevenifIwantedto.Therewasnodoorknob.
Icouldhearsomeonemakingtheirwayacrossthelivingroom.Thecurtainonthesmallwindowatthetophalfofthefrontdoormoved,andIsawmymotherpeekoutside.Shestaredforafewseconds,unmoving.
Sheeventuallyopenedthedoorafewinches.FarenoughthatIcouldseethat,attwoo’clockintheafternoon,shewasstillinherpajamas,whichwereanoversizedWeezerT-shirtoneofherexeshadleftbehind.IhatedthatshirtbecauseIlikedthatband.Everytimesheworeit,sheruinedthemalittlemoreforme.
SheaskedwhatIwasdoingthere,andIdidn’timmediatelywanttogivehermyreasons.Instead,IaskedherifTimwashome.
Sheopenedthedoorabitmoreandfoldedherarmssotightlytogether,itmadeoneofthebandmembersonhershirtlookdecapitated.ShetoldmeTimwasatworkandaskedwhatIwanted.
IaskedherifIcouldcomeinside.Shecontemplatedmyquestionandthenlookedovermyshoulder,hereyesscanningthestreet.Idon’tknowwhatshewascheckingfor.Maybeshewasafraidaneighborwouldwitnessherallowingherownsontovisit.
Sheleftthedooropenformewhileshewenttoherbedroomtochange.Thehousewaseerilydark,Iremember.Allthecurtainsweredrawn,creatingasenseofconfusiononwhattimeofdayitwas.Itdidn’thelpthattheclockonthestovewasblinking,andthetimewasoffbyovereighthours.IfIstilllivedthere,that’ssomethingelseIwouldhavefixed.
IfIstilllivedthere,thecurtainswouldhavebeenopen.Thekitchencounterswouldn’thavebeencoveredwithdirtydishes.Therewouldn’thavebeenamissingdoorknob,oranunkemptyard,ordays’worthofsoggynewspaperspilingup.IrealizedinthatmomentthatIwastheonewhohadbeenkeepingthathousetogetheralltheyearsIwasgrowingup.
Itgavemehope.HopethatmaybetheyrealizedIwasanassetratherthananinconvenience,andtheywouldallowmetoreturnhomeuntilIfinishedhighschool.
Isawadoorknobkitonthekitchentable,soIpickeditupandinspectedit.Thereceiptwasbeneathit.Ilookedatthedateonthereceipt,anditwaspurchasedovertwoweeksprior.
Thedoorknobwastherightfitforthefrontdoor.Ididn’tknowwhyTimhadn’tinstalleditifhe’dhaditfortwoweeks,soIfoundthetoolsinakitchendrawerandopenedthepackage.Itwasseveralminutesbeforemymothercameoutofherroom,butbythetimeshedid,Ialreadyhadthenewdoorknobinplaceonthefrontdoor.
SheaskedwhatIwasdoing,soItwistedtheknobandopenedthedooralittletoshowheritworked.
I’llneverforgetherreaction.Shesighedandsaid,“Whydoyoudoshitlikethis?It’slikeyouwanthimtohateyou.”Shesnatchedthescrewdriveroutofmyhandandsaid,“Maybeyoushouldgobeforeherealizesyouwerehere.”
PartofthereasonIcouldnevergetalongwithanyoneinthathousewasbecausetheirreactionsalwaysseemedmisplaced.WhenIwouldhelpoutaroundthehousewithoutbeingasked,TimwouldsayitwasbecauseIwasantagonizinghim.WhenIwouldn’thelpwithsomething,he’dsayitwasbecauseIwaslazyandungrateful.
“I’mnottryingtoupsetTim,”Isaid.“Ifixedyourdoorknob.Iwasjusttryingtohelp.”
“Hewasgoingtodoitassoonashehadthetime.”
PartofTim’sproblemwasthathealwayshadthetime.Heneverkeptajobmorethansixmonthsandspentmoretimegamblingthanhedidwithmymother.
“Didhegetajob?”Irememberaskingher.
“He’slooking.”
“Isthatwhereheisrightnow?”
IcouldseeinherexpressionthatTimwasn’toutjobhunting.Whereverhewas,Iwassureitwasputtingmymotherevenmoreindebtthanshealreadywas.Herdebtwasprobablythestrawthatbrokethecamel’sbackandgotmekickedoutinthefirstplace.WhenIfoundastashofmaxed-out,past-duecreditcardbillsinhername,IconfrontedTimaboutthem.
Hedidn’tlikebeingconfronted.HepreferredthepreteenversionofmehemettothenearadultIgrewinto.Helikedtheversionofmehecouldpusharoundwithoutbeingpushedback.Theversionofmehecouldmanipulatewithoutmecallinghimout.
Thatversionofmeleftbetweentheagesoffifteenandsixteen.OnceTimrealizedhecouldn’tthreatenmephysicallyanymore,hetriedruiningmylifeinotherways.Oneofthosewayswasleavingmewithoutaplacetolive.
Ieventuallyswallowedmyprideandcamerightoutwithit.ItoldmymotherIhadnowheretogo.
Mymother’sexpressionwasn’tjustvoidofempathy,itwasfullofannoyance.“Ihopeyouaren’taskingtomovebackinaftereverythingyoudid.”
“EverythingIdid?YoumeanwhenIcalledhimoutbecausehisgamblingaddictionputyouindebt?”
That’swhenshecalledmeanasshole.Orasswhole,rather.Shealwayssaidthatwordwrong.
Iattemptedtopleadwithher,butshequicklyresortedtothepersonIwasusedto.Shehurledthescrewdriveratme.Itwassosuddenandunexpectedbecauseweweren’tevenarguingatthatpoint,soIwasn’tabletoduckintime.Ithitmerightabovemylefteye,inthecenterofmyeyebrow.
Irubbedmyfingersacrossthecut,andtheycameawaysmearedwithblood.
AllIdidwasasktomovehome.Ididn’tdisrespecther.Ididn’tcurseather.Isimplyshowedupandfixedherfrontdoorandtriedtoreasonwithher,andIendedupwithabloodygash.
Irememberstaringatmyfingers,thinking,“Timdidn’tdothis.Mymotherdidthis.”
Forsolong,IhadblamedTimforeverythingthatwentwronginthathousehold,buteverythingwrongwiththathouseholdstartedwithher.Timsimplyamplifiedwhatwasalreadyanawfulenvironment.
IrememberthinkingthatIwouldratherbedeadthanbackwithher.Upuntilthatmoment,therewasapartofmethatstillheldsomethingforher.Idon’tknowifitwasasliverofrespect,butIwassomehowabletoappreciatethatshehadkeptmealivewhenIwasyounger.Butisn’tthatthemostbasicthingaparentshoulddowhentheydecidetobringachildintotheworld?
IrealizedatthatpointIhadbeengivinghertoomuchcredit.Ialwaysblamedourlackofabondonherbeingasinglemother,buttherewerealotofbusysinglemothersouttherewhosomehowstillbondedwiththeirchildren.Motherswhotookupfortheirchildrenwhentheywerebeingmistreated.Motherswhowouldn’tlooktheotherwaywhentheirthirteen-year-oldcameawayfromapunishmentwithablackeyeandabustedlip.Motherswhodidn’tallowtheirhusbandstoforcetheirschool-agedchildintohomelessness.Motherswhodidn’tthrowscrewdriversattheirchildren’sheads.
Despiterealizingwhatanuncaringhumanshetrulywas,Imadeonelastattempttopullhumanityoutofher.“CanIatleastgetsomeofmystuffbeforeIleave?”
“Youdon’thaveanything,”shesaid.“Weneededthespace.”
Icouldn’tlookatherafterthat.Itwasasifshewantednothingmorethantoerasemefromherlife,soIvowedinthatmomenttohelpherdojustthat.
ThebloodwasdrippingintomyeyewhenIwaswalkingawayfromthehouse.
Ican’ttellyouwhattherestofthatdaywaslike.Tofeelsoincrediblyunwanted,unloved,alone.Ihadnoone.Nothing.Nomoney,nobelongings,nofamily.
Justawound.
We’reimpressionablewhenwe’reyounger,andwhenyou’retoldyouarenothingforyearsonendbyeveryoneyoushouldmeansomethingto,youstarttobelieveit.Andyouslowlystarttobecomenothing.
ButthenImetyou,Lily.AndeventhoughIwasnothing,whenyoulookedatme,yousomehowsawsomething.SomethingIcouldn’tsee.YouwerethefirstpersoninmylifetoshowaninterestinwhoIwasasahuman.Noonehadeveraskedmequestionsaboutmyselfthewayyoudid.AfterthosefewmonthsIspentgettingtoknowyou,IstoppedfeelinglikeIwasnothing.Youmademefeelinterestingandunique.Yourfriendshipgavemeworth.
Thankyouforthat.Evenifthisdateleadsnowhereandweneverspeakagain,Iwillalwaysbegratefultoyouforsomehowseeingsomethinginmethatmyownmotherwasblindto.
You’remyfavoriteperson,Lily.Andnowyouknowwhy.
Atlas
Mythroatissothickwithburgeoningtears,Ican’tevenverballyrespondtowhatIjustread.Isetthephoneonmylegandwipeatmyeyes.Ihatethathe’sdrivingrightnow,becauseifwewereparked,I’dthrowmyarmsaroundhimandhughimtighterthanhe’severbeenhugged.I’dprobablykisshim,too,andpullhimintothebackseat,becausenoonehaseversaidsuchheartbreakinglysadthingsinsuchasweetwaytomebefore.
Atlasreachesacrosstheseatandgrabshisphone.Hedropsitbackintothecupholder,butthenhereachesformyhand.Hethreadshisfingersthroughmineandsqueezesmyhandwhilestaringstraightahead.Thatmovecausesacommotioninmychest.Iwrapmyotherhandoverthetopofhis,andholdinghandslikethisremindsmeofallthebusrideswhenwe’djustsitinsilence,sadandcold,holdingontoeachother.
Istareoutthewindow,andhestaresstraightahead,andneitherofussaysawordonourdrivebacktothecity.
Westopandgrabto-goburgersjusttwomilesfrommyflowershop.AtlasknowsIdon’twantEmersontobeuptoofarpastherbedtime,soweeatintheparkinglotofLilyBloom’s.Ourconversationsincegettingbackintothecityandorderingburgershasbeenmuchlighter.Itisn’tlostonmethatI’mnotmortifiedanymore.HimbeingvulnerablewithmeseemedtobetheresetbuttonIneededforourdatetogetbackontrack.
We’vebeendiscussingalltheplaceswe’vetraveled.Hehasmebeatbyalongshot,consideringthetimehespentintheMarines.He’sbeentofivedifferentcountries,andtheonlyplaceI’vebeenoutsideofthecountryisCanada.
“You’veneverevenbeentoMexico?”Atlasasks.
Iwipemymouthwithanapkin.“Never.”
“DidyouandRylenothaveahoneymoon?”
Ugh.Ihatethesoundofhisnameinthemiddleofthisdate.“No,weelopedinVegas.Didn’thavetimeforahoneymoon.”
Atlastakesasipofhisdrink.Whenhelooksatme,hiseyesarepiercing,likehe’shopingtounpackthethoughtsI’mnotsaying.“Didyouwantawedding?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.IknewRyleneverwantedtogetmarried,sowhenhesaidweshouldgotoVegasandgetmarried,Isawitasawindowofopportunitythatmightclose.IguessIfeltlikeelopingwasbetterthannotmarryinghimatall.”
“Whatifyougetmarriedagain?Youthinkyou’lldoitdifferently?”
Ilaughatthatquestion,andnodimmediately.“Absolutely.Iwantitall.Flowersandbridesmaidsandshit.”Ipopafryintomymouth.“Andromanticvows,andanevenmoreromantichoneymoon.”
“Wherewouldyougo?”
“Paris.Rome.London.Ihavenodesiretositonahotbeachsomewhere.IwanttoseealltheromanticplacesinEuropeandmakeloveineverycityandtakepictureskissinginfrontoftheEiffelTower.Iwanttoeatcroissantsandholdhandsontrains.”Idropmyemptycontaineroffriesintothesack.“Whataboutyou?”
Atlasreachesformyfreehand,andheholdsit.Hedoesn’tanswerme.Hejustsmilesatmeandsqueezesmyhand,likewhathewantsisasecretthat’stoosoontospill.
Holdinghishandfeelslikesuchanaturalthing.Maybebecauseweusedtodothissomuchasteenagers,butsittinginthiscarwithhimandnotholdinghishandfeelsmoreoutofplacethanholdinghandsdoes.
EvenwiththehitchIputintoourdatebyfallingasleep,theentirenighthasfelteasyandcomfortable.Beingnearhimissecondnature.Itraceafingeroverthetopofhiswrist.“Ineedtogo.”
“Iknow,”hesays,rubbinghisthumbovermine.Atlas’sphonepings,sohereachesforitwithhisfreehandandreadstheincomingtext.Hesighsquietly,andthewayhedropshisphonebackintothecupholdermakesmethinkhe’sirritatedwithwhoeverjusttextedhim.
“Everythingokay?”
Atlasforcesasmile,butit’sapatheticattempt.Iseerightthroughit,andheknowsit.Hebreakseyecontactandlooksdownatourhands.Heflipsmineoveruntilit’sfaceup,andhebeginstotracethelinesinmypalm.Hisfingerfeelslikealightningrod,zappingelectricityfrommyhandthroughouttherestofmybody.“Mymothercalledmelastweek.”
Thatconfessiontakesmeaback.“Whatdidshewant?”
“Idon’tknow,Iendedthecallbeforeshecouldtellme,butI’mprettysuresheneedsmoney.”
Ithreadourhandstogetheragain.Idon’tknowwhattosaytohim.Thathastobehard,nothearingfromyourmotherforalmostfifteenyears,andthenshefinallyreachesoutwhensheneedssomething.Itmakesmesogratefulthatmymotherisahugepartofmylife.
“Ididn’tmeantodropthatonyouwhenyou’reinahurry.Weshouldsavesomeconversationforourseconddate.”Hesmilesatme,anditinstantlyflipsthemood.It’sremarkablehowhissmilecandictatethefeelingsoccurringinsidemyownchest.“Comeon,I’llwalkyoutoyourcar.”
Ilaughbecausemycarisliterallytwofeetaway.ButAtlasrushesaroundthefrontofhiscarandopensmydoor,thenhelpsmeout.Andthen,withonestepeach,we’reatmycar.
“Funwalk,”Itease.
Heflashesabriefsmile,andIdon’tknowifhemeansforittobeseductive,butI’msuddenlywarmallover,despitethecoldweather.Atlaspeeksovermyshoulder,nudginghisheadtowardmycar.“Doyouhavemorejournalsinthere?”
“Justhadtheoneonme.”
“Shame,”hesays.Heleansashoulderagainstmycar,soIdothesame,facinghim.
Ihavenoideaifwe’reabouttokiss.Iwouldn’tobject,butIalsojustateonionsaftersleepingforoveranhour,soIdoubtmymouthisatitsmostappealingrightnow.
“DoIgetaredo?”Iask.
“Aredoofwhat?”
“Thisdate.I’dliketobeawakeforthenextone.”
Atlaslaughs,butthenhislaughdissipates.Hestaresatmeforabeat.“Iforgothowfunitisbeingaroundyou.”
HiswordsconfusemebecausefunisnotwhatIwouldcallourtimetogetherbackthen.Itwassad,atbest.“Youthinkthosetimeswerefun?”
Heliftsashoulderinahalfshrug.“Imean,itwasthelowestpointofmylife,sure.Butmymemorieswithyoufrombackthenarestillsomeofmyfavorites.”
Hiscomplimentmakesmeblush.I’mgladit’sdark.
Buthe’sright.Itwasalowpointinbothofourlives,butbeingwithhimwasstillsomehowthehighlightofmyteenageyears.Iguessfunistheperfectwaytodescribewhatwemadeofit.Andifwesomehowhadfuntogetheratsuchalowpointinbothofourlives,itmakesmewonderwhatwecouldbelikeatourhighest.
It’stheexactoppositeofthethoughtsIhadaboutRylelastweek.I’veexperiencedthelowestoflowswithAtlas,andhehasneverbeenanythingbutincredibleandrespectfultome.Yet,themanIchosetobemyhusbandsomehowdisrespectedmeinwaysnoonedeserves…allwhilewewereatsuchahighpointinourlives.
I’mgratefulforAtlasbecauseIknowhe’sthestandardInowholdpeopleto.He’sthestandardIshouldhaveheldRyletofromtheverybeginning.
There’saconvenientgustofcoldairthatsweepsbetweenus.ItwouldbetheperfectexcuseforAtlastopullmetohim,buthedoesn’t.Instead,thequietnessbuildsbetweenusuntilthere’sonlyonethinglefttodo.Eitherkissorsaygoodnight.
Atlasbrushesastrandofmyhairfrommyforehead.“I’mnotgoingtokissyouyet.”
Ihopemydisappointmentisn’tobvious,butIknowitis.Ipracticallydeflateinfrontofhim.“Isitmypunishmentforfallingasleep?”
“Ofcoursenot.I’mjustfeelinginferiorafterreadingaboutourfirstkiss.”
Isputterlaughter.“Inferiortowho?Yourself?”
Henods.“TeenageAtlasthroughyoureyeswasquitethecharmer.”
“SoisadultAtlas.”
Hegroansalittle,likehealreadywantstochangehismindaboutthekiss.Thegroanmakesthingsfeelalittlemoreserious.Hemovesfluidlyawayfromthecaruntilhe’sstandingrightinfrontofme.Ipressmybackagainstmycardoorandlookupathim,hopinghe’sabouttokissthehelloutofme.
“Also,youaskedmetotakethingsslow,so…”
Dammit.Ididdothat.Isaidveryslow,ifIremembercorrectly.Ihatemyself.
Atlasleansforward,andIclosemyeyes.Ifeelhisbreathscatteringacrossmycheekrightbeforehepressesaquickkissagainstthesideofmyhead.“Goodnight,Lily.”
“Okay.”
Okay?WhydidIsay“okay”?I’msoflustered.
Atlaslaughssoftly.WhenIopenmyeyes,he’sbackingawayfromme,headingtothedriver’ssideofhiscar.Beforeheleaves,herestshisarmontheroofofthecarandsays,“Ihopeyougetsomesleeptonight.”
Inod,butIdon’tknowifthat’sgoingtobepossible.IfeellikeeverybitofcaffeineI’veconsumedtodayhasjustkickedinallatonce.Iwon’tbeabletosleepafterthisdate.I’mgoingtobethinkingabouttheletterheletmeread.AndwhenI’mnotthinkingaboutthat,I’mgoingtobereplayingourfirstkissinmyheadallnightlong,wonderingwhatparttwoisgoingtofeellike.
“Justkeepswimming,swimming,swimming…”
ThefamiliarsoundsofFindingNemoarecomingfromAllysaandMarshall’slivingroomwhenIopenthedoortotheirapartment.
WhenIpassbythekitchen,Marshallisstandinginfrontoftherefrigeratorwithbothdoorswideopen.Henodsagreeting,andIwave,butIdon’tmakesmalltalkwithhimbecauseI’machingtohugEmerson.
WhenIenterthelivingroom,I’mshockedtofindRyleonthesofa.Hedidn’tmentionhewouldbeoffworktonight.Emersonisasleeponhischest,andAllysaisnowherearound.
“Hey.”
Ryledoesn’tlookuptogreetme,buthedoesn’thavetolookupformetoknowsomethingisbotheringhim.Icanseethefirmsetofhisjaw—adeadgiveawaythathe’sangry.IwanttopickupEmerson,butshelookspeaceful,soIleaveheronRyle’schest.“Howlonghasshebeenasleep?”
Ryleisstillstaringatthetelevision,oneofhishandsprotectivelyonEmmy’sback,theotherbehindhishead.“Sincethismoviestarted.”
Irecognizethescene,whichletsmeknowit’sbeenaboutanhour.
Allysafinallywalksintotheroom,breathinglifeintoit.“Hey,Lily.I’msorryshe’sasleep;wetriedsohardtokeepherawake.”Wegiveeachotheratwo-secondglance.ShesilentlyapologizesthatRyleishere.Isilentlytellherit’sokay.They’resiblings—Ican’texpecthimnottoshowupwhenheknowsshe’sbabysittinghisdaughter.
RylemotionsforAllysa.“CanyouputEmersononherpallet?IneedtotalktoLily.”
ThecurtnessinhisvoicealarmsbothmeandAllysa.WegiveeachotheranotherlookasshepriesEmersonoffRyle’schest.TheachetoholdheronlygrowswiderasAllysalaysheronthepallet.
Rylestandsup,andforthefirsttimesinceIwalkedin,hemakeseyecontactwithme.Hegivesmeaonce-over,noticingtheoutfitandtheheelsI’mwearing.Icanseetheslowrollofhisthroat.Henudgeshisheadupward,indicatinghewantstospeaktomeontherooftopbalcony.
Whateverconversationthisis,hewantscompleteprivacy.
Heexitstheapartmenttoheadtotheroof,andIlooktowardAllysaforguidance.OnceRyleisoutofearshot,shesays,“Itoldhimyouhadaneventtonight.”
“Thanks.”Allysasworeshewouldn’ttellRyleaboutmydate,butIcan’tfigureoutwhyhe’ssoangryifhedoesn’tknowwhereI’vebeen.“Whyisheupset?”
Allysashrugs.“Noidea.Heseemedfinewhenheshowedupanhourago.”
IknowbetterthananyonehowRylecanseemfineonesecondandabsolutelytheoppositeoffinethenext.ButIusuallyknowwhat’ssettinghimoff.
DidhefindoutIwentonadate?DidhefindoutitwaswithAtlas?
OnceI’montheroof,IlocateRyleleaningovertheledge,lookingdown.Mystomachisalreadyinknots.MyheelsclickagainstthefloorasImakemywayovertohim.
Ryleglancesatmebriefly.“Youlook…nice.”Hesaysitinawaythatmakesitseemlikeaninsultratherthanacompliment.Ormaybethat’sjustmyguilt.
“Thankyou.”Ileanagainsttheledge,waitingforhimtospeakupaboutwhateverisbotheringhim.
“Didyoujustgetbackfromadate?”
“Ihadanevent.”IgoalongwithAllysa’slie.There’snopointinbeinghonestwithhim,becauseit’stoosoontoknowifthisthingwithAtlasisgoinganywhereyet,andthetruthwouldonlyupsetRylemore.Ipressmybackagainsttheledgeandfoldmyarmsovermychest.“Whatisit,Ryle?”
Hewaitsabeatbeforehefinallyspeaks.“I’veneverseenthatcartoonbeforetonight.”
Ishejusttryingtomakesmalltalkorisheangryaboutsomething?I’mconfusedbythiswholeconversation.
UntilI’mnot.
Iswear,Icanbesuchanidiotsometimes.Ofcoursehe’supset.Heoncereadallmyjournalentries.HeknowshowmuchthatmoviemeanstomeafterhavingreadeverythingIwroteaboutit,butIguessnowthathe’sfinallyseenit,he’sconnectedthedots.Andbythelooksofit,he’saddedsomedotsofhisown.
Heturnsnow,facingmewithanexpressionfullofbetrayal.“YounamedourdaughterDory?”Hetakesastepcloser.“Youchosemydaughter’smiddlenamebecauseofyourconnectionwiththatman?”
Ifeelanimmediatepulsinginmytemples.Thatman.IbreakeyecontactwithhimwhileIthinkofhowtoproperlycommunicatethis.WhenIchosethenameDoryasEmerson’smiddlename,Ididn’tdoitforAtlas.ThatmoviemeantsomethingtomelongbeforeAtlascameintothepicture,butIprobablyshouldhavethoughttwiceaboutitbeforegoingthroughwithnamingherthat.
Iclearmythroat,makingroomforthetruth.“IchosethatnamebecausethecharacterinspiredmewhenIwasyounger.Ithadnothingtodowithanyoneelse.”
Rylereleasesanexasperated,disappointedlaugh.“You’rearealpieceofwork,Lily.”
Iwanttoarguewithhim,tofurtherprovemypoint,butI’mgettingnervous.HisdemeanorisbringingbackeveryfearofhimI’veeverheld.Itrytodefusethesituationbyescapingit.
“I’mgoinghomenow.”Istarttoheadtowardthestairs,buthe’sfasterthanme.Hemovespastme,andthenhe’sinbetweenmeandthedoortothestairwell.Itakeanervousstepback.IslipmyhandinmypocketinsearchofmyphoneincaseIneedtouseit.
“We’rechanginghermiddlename,”hesays.
IkeepmyvoicefirmandsteadywhenIrespond.“WenamedherEmersonafteryourbrother.That’syourconnectiontohername.Hermiddlenameismyconnection.It’sonlyfair.You’rereadingtoomuchintoit.”
Itrytosidesteparoundhim,buthemoveswithme.
Iglanceovermyshouldertomeasurethedistancebetweenmyselfandtheledge.NotthatIfeellikehe’dthrowmeoverit,butIalsodidn’tthinkhe’dbecapableofshovingmedownaflightofstairs.
“Doesheknow?”Ryleasks.
Hedoesn’thavetosayAtlas’snameformetoknowexactlywhohe’stalkingabout.Ifeeltheguiltswallowingme,andI’mworriedRylecansenseit.
AtlasdoesknowEmerson’smiddlenameisDory,becauseImadeitapointtotellhim.ButIhonestlydidn’tnamemydaughterforAtlas.Inamedherforme.DorywasmyfavoritecharacterbeforeIevenknewAtlasCorriganexisted.Iadmiredherstrength,andIonlynamedherthatbecausestrengthistheonetraitIhopemydaughterhasmorethananythingelse.
ButRyle’sreactionismakingmewanttoapologize,becauseFindingNemodoesmeansomethingtobothAtlasandme,andIknewitwhenIranafterAtlasonthestreettotellhimabouthermiddlename.
MaybeRyledeservestobeangry.
Thereinliesourissue,though.Rylecanbeangry,butthatdoesn’tmeanIdeserveeverythingthataccompanieshisanger.I’mfallingbackintothatsametrapofforgettingthatnothingIcoulddowouldwarranthisextremepastreactions.
Imaynotbeperfect,butIdon’tdeservetofearformylifeeverytimeImakeamistake.Andthismayhavebeenamistakethatdeservesmorediscussion,butIdon’tfeelcomfortablehavingaconversationaboutitwithRyleonarooftopwithoutwitnesses.
“You’remakingmenervous.Canwepleasegobackdownstairs?”
Ryle’sentiredemeanorchangesassoonasIsaythat.It’slikehepuncturesagainstthesharpinsult.“Lily,comeon.”Hemovesawayfromthedoorandwalksallthewaytotheothersideofthebalcony.“We’rearguing.Peopleargue.Christ.”Hespinsawayfromme,givingmehisbacknow.
Herecomesthegaslighting.He’sattemptingtomakemefeelcrazyforbeingscared,eventhoughmyfearismorethanwarranted.Istareathimforamoment,wonderingiftheargumentisoverorifhehasmoretosay.Iwantittobeover,soIopenthedoortothestairwell.
“Lily,wait.”
Ipausebecausehisvoiceismuchcalmer,whichleadsmetobelievehemightbecapableofaverbaldisagreementratherthananexplosivefighttonight.Hewalksbackovertomewithapainedexpression.“I’msorry.YouknowhowIfeelaboutanythingrelatedtohim.”
Idoknow,whichispreciselywhyI’vehadsuchconflictingfeelingsaboutAtlaspotentiallybeingapartofmylifeagain.ThesimpleideaofhavingtoconfrontRylewiththatinformationmakesmewanttovomit.Especiallynow.
“Itupsetmetofindoutthatourdaughter’smiddlenamemighthavebeensomethingyouchosetodeliberatelyhurtme.Youcan’texpectsomethinglikethatnottoaffectme.”
Ileanagainstthewallandfoldmyarmsovermychest.“IthadnothingtodowithyouorAtlasandeverythingtodowithme.Iswear.”JustmentioningAtlas’snameoutloudseemstogetitstuckintheairbetweenus,likeit’satangiblethingRylecanreachoutandpunch.
Rylenodsoncewithatightexpression,butitappearsthatheacceptsthatanswer.Ihonestlydon’tknowifheshould.MaybeIdiddoitsubconsciouslytohurthim.Idon’tevenknowatthispoint.Hisangerismakingmequestionmyintentions.
Thisallfeelssogrosslyfamiliar.
We’rebothquietforawhile.IjustwanttogotoEmerson,butRyleseemstohavemoretosay,becausehemovescloser,placingahandonthewallbesidemyhead.I’mrelievedthathedoesn’tlookangryanymore,butI’mnotsureIlikethelookinhiseyethathasreplacedtheanger.It’snotthefirsttimehe’slookedatmethiswaysinceourseparation.
Ifeelmyentirebodystiffenathisgradualchangeindemeanor.Hemovesacoupleofinchescloser,tooclose,anddipshishead.
“Lily,”hesays,hisvoiceascratchywhisper.“Whatarewedoing?”
Idon’trespondtohimbecauseI’mnotsurewhyhe’saskingthat.We’rehavingaconversation.Onehestarted.
Heliftsahand,fingeringthecollarofmyjumpsuit,whichispeekingoutbeneathmycoat.Whenhesighs,hisbreathmovesthroughmyhair.“Everythingwouldbesomucheasierifwecouldjust…”Rylepauses,maybetothinkaboutthewordshe’sabouttosay.ThewordsIdon’twanttohear.
“Stop,”Iwhisper,preventinghimfromfinishing.
Hedoesn’tcompletehisthought,buthealsodoesn’tbackaway.Ifanything,itfeelslikehemovesevencloser.I’vedonenothinginthepastthatwouldmakehimthinkit’sokaytomoveinonmelikethis.Idonothingthatgiveshimhopeforusotherthanfosteracivilcoparentingrelationship.He’stheonealwaystryingtopushmyboundariesandstraddlethelineofwhatI’mokaywith,andI’mhonestlytiredofit.
“WhatifI’vechanged?”heasks.“Reallychanged?”Hiseyesarefullofamixtureofsincerityandsorrow.
Itdoesnothingforme.Absolutelynothing.“Idon’tcareifyou’vechanged,Ryle.Ihopeyouhave.Butit’snotmyresponsibilitytotestthattheory.”
Thosewordshithimhard.Iseeitwhenhehastotakeamomenttoswallowwhateverunkindresponseheknowsheshouldn’tgivemerightnow.Hestopstalking,stopslookingatme,stopshovering.
Hehuffs,frustrated,andthenbacksawayandmakeshiswaytowardthestairs,hopefullytohisownapartment.Heslamsthedoorshutbehindhim.
Idon’timmediatelyfollow,forobviousreasons.Ineedspace.Ineedtoprocess.
Thisisn’tthefirsttimehe’saskedmewhatwe’redoing—likeourdivorceissomelonggameI’mplaying.Sometimeshe’llsayitinpassing,sometimesinatext.Sometimeshemakesitajoke.Buteverytimehesuggestshowsenselessourdivorceis,Irecognizeitforwhatitis.Amanipulationtactic.Hethinksifhetreatsourdivorcelikewe’rebeingsilly,I’lleventuallyagreewithhimandtakehimback.
HislifewouldbeeasierifItookhimback.Allysa’sandMarshall’slivesmightevenbemadeeasierbyit,becausetheywouldn’thavetodancearoundourdivorceandtheirrelationshipwithhim.
Butmylifewouldn’tbeeasier.There’snothingeasyaboutfearingforyoursafetyanytimeyoumakeamisstep.
Emerson’slifewouldn’tbeeasier.I’velivedherlife.There’snothingeasyaboutlivinginthatkindofhousehold.
Iwaitformyangertodissipatebeforeheadingbackdownstairs,butitdoesn’t.ItjustbuildsandbuildswitheverystepIdescend.IfeellikethereactionI’mhavingistoobigforwhatjusthappened,ormaybethat’sjusthowI’veconditionedmyselftofeelwhenI’maroundRyle.Maybeit’sacombinationofthatandmylackofsleep.Maybeit’sthedatewithAtlasthatIalmostruined.Whateveritisthat’smakingmereactsointenselycatchesupwithmerightoutsideofAllysa’sapartmentdoor.
Ineedamomenttocollectmyemotionsbeforebeingnearmydaughter,soIsitonthefloorofthehallwaytocryitout.Iliketoshedtearsinprivate.Happensquiteregularly,unfortunately,butI’vebeenfindingmyselfgettingoverwhelmedalot.Divorceisoverwhelming;beingasinglemotherisoverwhelming;runningabusinessisoverwhelming;dealingwithanex-husbandwhostillscaresyouisoverwhelming.
Andthenthere’sthatsplinteroffearthatcreepsintomyconsciencewhenRylesayssomethingtosuggestourdivorcewasamistake.BecausesometimesIdowonderifmylifewouldn’tbesooverwhelmingifIstillhadahusbandwhosharedsomeoftheburdensofraisinghischild.AndsometimesIwonderifI’moverreactingbynotallowingmydaughtertohaveovernightswithherownfather.Relationshipsandcustodyagreementsdon’tcomewithablueprint,unfortunately.
Idon’tknowifeverymoveImakeistherightone,butI’mdoingmybest.Idon’tneedhismanipulationandgaslightingontopofthat.
IwishIwereathome;Iwouldwalkstraighttomyjewelryboxandpulloutthelistofreminders.IshouldtakeapictureofitsoIalwayshaveitonmyphoneinthefuture.IdefinitelyunderestimatehowdifficultandconfusinginteractionswithRylecanbe.
Howdopeopleleavethesecycleswhentheydon’thavetheresourcesIhadorthesupportfromtheirfriendsandfamily?Howdotheypossiblystaystrongenougheverysecondoftheday?Ifeellikeallittakesisoneweak,insecuremomentinthepresenceofyourextoconvinceyourselfyoumadethewrongdecision.
Anyonewhohaseverleftamanipulative,abusivespouseandsomehowstayedthatcoursedeservesamedal.Astatue.Afreakingsuperheromovie.
SocietyhasobviouslybeenworshippingthewrongheroesthiswholetimebecauseI’mconvincedittakeslessstrengthtopickupabuildingthanitdoestopermanentlyleaveanabusivesituation.
I’mstillcryingafewminuteslaterwhenIhearAllysa’sdooropen.IlookuptofindMarshallexitingtheapartmentcarryingtwobagsoftrash.Hepauseswhenheseesmesittingonthefloor.
“Oh.”Hiseyesdartaround,asifhe’shopingsomeoneelsewillhelpme.NotthatIneedhelp.Ijustneededamomentofrespite.
Marshallsetsthebagsonthefloorandwalksover.Hetakesaseatacrossfrommeandstretchesouthislegs.Hescratchesuncomfortablyathisknee.“I’mnotsurewhattosay.I’mnotgoodatthis.”
Hisdiscomfortmakesmelaughthroughmytears.Itossupafrustratedhand.“I’mfine.IjustneedtocrysometimeswhenRyleandIfight.”
Marshallpullsupaleglikehe’sabouttostandupandgoafterRyle.“Didhehurtyou?”
“No.No,hewasfairlycalm.”
Marshallrelaxesbacktothefloor,andIdon’tknowwhy,maybeit’sbecausehe’stheunluckyoneinfrontofmerightnow,butIunloadallmythoughtsonhim.
“Ithinkthat’stheproblem—thatheactuallyhadarighttobemadatmethistime,andhewasrelativelycalmaboutit.Sometimeswecanargue,anditdoesn’tleadtoanythingmorethanadisagreement.Andwhenthathappens,IstarttoquestionwhetherIoverreactedbyaskingforadivorce.Imean,IknowIdidn’toverreact.IknowIdidn’t.Buthehasthiswayofplantingseedsofdoubtinme,likemaybethingscouldhavegottenbetterifIjustgavehimmoretimetoworkonhimself.”IfeelbadthatI’mlayingallthisonMarshall.It’snotfairtohimbecauseRyleishisbestfriend.“I’msorry.Thisisn’tyourissue.”
“Allysacheatedonme.”
Marshall’swordsstunmesilentforagoodfiveseconds.“Wh-what?”
“Itwasalongtimeago.Weworkedthroughit,butdammit,ithurtlikehell.Shebrokemyheart.”
I’mshakingmyheadinanattempttoprocessthisinformation.Hekeepstalking,though,soItrytokeepup.
“Weweren’tinagoodplace.Weweregoingtodifferentcollegesandtryingtomakelongdistancework,andwewereyoung.Anditwasn’tevenanythingbig.Shehadadrunkmake-outwithsomeguyatapartybeforesherememberedhowamazingIam.Butwhenshetoldme…I’veneverbeensoangryinmylife.Nothinghadevercutmelikethatdid.Iwantedtoretaliate:Iwantedtocheatonher,soshe’dknowhowitfelt;Iwantedtoslashhertiresandmaxouthercreditcardsandburnallherclothes.ButnomatterhowmadIwas,whenshewasstandingrightinfrontofme,Inever,notforonesecond,thoughtaboutphysicallyhurtingher.Ifanything,Ijustwantedtohugherandcryonhershoulder.”
Marshalllooksatmewithsincerity.“WhenIthinkaboutRylehittingyou…Igetabsurdlyangry.BecauseIlovehim.Ido.He’sbeenmybestfriendsincewewerekids.ButIalsohatehimfornotbeingbetter.Nothingyouhavedoneandnothingyoucoulddowouldexcuseanyman’shandsonyououtofanger.Rememberthat,Lily.Youmadetherightchoicebyleavingthatsituation.Youshouldneverfeelguiltyforthat.Prideistheonlythingyoushouldfeel.”
Ihadnoideahowheavilyanyofthiswasweighingonme,butMarshall’swordsliftsomuchweightoffme,IfeellikeIcouldfloat.
I’mnotsurethosewordscouldmeanmorecomingfromanyoneelse.There’ssomethingaboutgettingvalidationfromsomeonewholovesRylelikeabrotherthat’sreaffirming.Empowering.
“You’rewrong,Marshall.You’reprettydamngoodatthis.”
Marshallsmilesandthenhelpsmetomyfeet.HepicksuphistrashbagsandIheadbackinsidetheirapartmenttofindmydaughterandhughersotight.ChapterThirteenAtlas
It’samazinghowanightcangofrombeingsomethingI’vebeenhopingwouldhappenforyears,tosomethingI’vebeendreadingwouldhappenforyears.
IfIhadn’treceivedthattextjustasIwasdroppingoffLily,Iabsolutelywouldhavekissedher.ButIwantourfirstkissasadultstobefreefromdistraction.
ThetextwasfromDarin,informingmethatmymotherisatBib’s.Ididn’ttellLilyaboutthetextbecauseIhadn’tyettoldhermymotherwasattemptingtoworkherwaybackintomylife.AndthenassoonasItoldheraboutmymothercallingme,Iregrettedit.Thedatewasgoingsowell,andIwasriskingthatbyendingitonsuchasombernote
Ididn’ttextDarinbackbecauseIdidn’twanttointerruptmytimewithLily.Butevenafterthedateendedandwedroveawayinseparatecars,Istilldidn’ttextDarinback.Idrovearoundforhalfanhourtryingtofigureoutwhattodo.
I’mhopingmymothergottiredofwaitingforme.Itookmytimearrivingbacktotherestaurant,butI’mherenow,andIguessIneedtoconfrontthis.Sheseemsadamantaboutspeakingwithme.
IparkinthealleybehindBib’ssothatIcangothroughthebackdoorincaseshe’swaitingintherestaurantlobby,oratatable.I’mnotsureshewouldrecognizemeifshesawme,butI’dratherhavetheadvantagebyapproachingheronmyterms.
Darinnoticesmeenterthroughthebackdoorandimmediatelymakeshiswayover.
“Yougetmytext?”
Inodandremovemycoat.“Idid.Isshestillhere?”
“Yeah,sheinsistedonwaiting.Isatherattableeight.”
“Thanks.”
Darinlooksatmecautiously.“MaybeI’moverstepping,but…Iswearyousaidyourmotherwasdead.”
Thatalmostmakesmelaugh.“Ineversaiddead.Isaidshewasgone.There’sadifference.”
“Icantellheryouaren’tcomingintonight.”Hemustsensethestormbrewing.
“It’sokay.Ihaveafeelingsheisn’tgoingawayuntilItalktoher.”
Darinnodsandthenspinstoheadbacktohisstationinthekitchen.
I’mgladhe’snotaskingtoomanyquestions,sinceIhavenoideawhyshe’shere,orwhosheevenisnow.Sheprobablywantsmoney.Hell,I’dgiveittoherifitmeansIdon’thavetodealwithhercallingorshowingupagain
Ishouldprepareforthatoutcome.IgotomyofficeandgrabahandfulofcashoutofthesafeandthenImakemywaythroughthekitchendoors,outintotherestaurant.Ihesitatebeforeglancingattableeight.
WhenIdo,I’mrelievedtoseeherbackistome.
IcalmmyselfwithadeepbreathandthenImakemywayovertoher.Idon’twanttohavetohugherorfakeniceties,soIletnotimelagbetweenusmakingeyecontactandmetakingaseatdirectlyacrossfromher.
Shehasthesameunaffectedexpressionshe’salwayshadwhenshelooksacrossthetableatme.There’sasmallfrownplayingatthecornerofhermouth,butit’salwaysthere.She’sconstantly,albeitinadvertently,frowning.
Shelooksworn.It’sonlybeenaboutthirteenorsoyearssinceI’veseenherlast,buttherearedecades’worthofnewlinesthathaveformedaroundhereyesandmouth.
Shetakesmeinforamoment.IknowIlookvastlydifferentfromthelasttimeshesawme,butshemakesnoindicationthatshe’ssurprisedbythat.She’scompletelystoic,asifI’mtheonewhoshouldspeakfirst.Idon’t.
“Isthisallyours?”shefinallyasks,wavingahandaroundtherestaurant.
Inod.
“Wow.”
Toanyoneelsewatchingus,theymightthinkshe’simpressed.Buttheydon’tknowherlikeIknowher.Thatonewordwasmeantasaputdown,asifshe’ssaying,Wow,Atlas.You’renotsmartenoughforsomethinglikethis.
“Howmuchdoyouneed?”
Sherollshereyes.“I’mnothereformoney.”
“Whatisit,then?Youneedakidney?Aheart?”
Sheleansbackagainstherseat,restingherhandsinherlap.“Iforgothowharditistohaveaconversationwithyou.”
“Thenwhydoyoukeeptrying?”
Mymother’seyesnarrow.She’sonlyeverknowntheversionofmethatwasintimidatedbyher.I’mnolongerintimidated.Justangryanddisappointed.
Shehuffs,andthenbringsherarmsbackuptothetable,foldingthemtogether.Shelooksatmepointedly.“Ican’tfindJosh.Iwashopingyou’vetalkedtohim.”
Iknowit’sbeenalongtimesinceI’veseenmymother,butIcan’tforthelifeofmeplaceanyonenamedJosh.WhothehellisJosh?AnewboyfriendshethinksIshouldknowabout?Isshestillusingdrugs?
“Hedoesthisallthetimebutneverforthislong.They’rethreateningtofiletruancychargesonmeifhedoesn’tshowbackuptoschool.”
Iamsolost.“WhoisJosh?”
Herheadfallsbackasifshe’sirritatedthatI’mnotfollowingalong.“Josh.Yourlittlebrother.Heranawayagain.”
My…brother?
Brother.
“Didyouknowparentscangotojailfortruancyviolations?I’mlookingatjailtime,Atlas.”
“Ihaveabrother?”
“YouknewIwaspregnantwhenyouranaway.”
Iabsolutelydidn’tknow…“Ididn’trunaway—youkickedmeout.”Idon’tknowwhyIclarifythat;she’sfullyawareofthatfact.She’sjusttryingtodeflectblame.Butherkickingmeoutwhenshedidmakessomuchmoresensenow.Theyhadababyontheway,andInolongerfitintothepicture.
Ibringbotharmsupandclaspmyhandsbehindmyhead,frustrated.Shocked.ThenIdropthemtothetableagainandleanforwardforclarity.“Ihaveabrother?Howoldishe?Who’shis…IsheTim’sson?”
“He’seleven.Andyes,Timishisfather,butheleftyearsago.Idon’tevenknowwherehelivesnow.”
Iwaitforthistofullyhit.Iwasexpectinganythingandeverythingbutthis.Ihavesomanyquestions,butthemostimportantthingrightnowistofigureoutwherethiskidis.“Whenwasthelasttimeyousawhim?”
“Abouttwoweeksago,”shesays.
“Andyoureportedittothepolice?”
Shemakesaface.“No.Ofcoursenot.He’snotmissing,he’sjusttryingtopissmeoff.”
Ihavetosqueezemytemplestorefrainfromraisingmyvoice.Istilldon’tunderstandhowshefoundmeorwhyshethinksaneleven-year-oldkidistryingtoteachheralesson,butI’mlaserfocusedonfindinghimnow.“DidyoumovebacktoBoston?Didhegomissinghere?”
Mymothermakesaconfusedface.“Moveback?”
It’slikewe’respeakingtwodifferentlanguages.“DidyoumovebackhereordoyoustillliveinMaine?”
“Oh,God,”shemutters,attemptingtoremember.“Icameback,like,tenyearsago?Joshwasjustababy.”
She’slivedherefortenyears?
“They’regoingtoarrestme,Atlas.”
Herchildhasbeenmissingfortwoweeks,andshe’smoreworriedaboutbeingarrestedthansheisabouthim.Somepeopleneverchange.“Whatdoyouneedmetodo?”
“Idon’tknow.Iwashopinghereachedouttoyouandthatmaybeyouknewwherehewas.Butifyoudidn’tevenknowheexisted—”
“Whywouldhereachouttome?Doesheknowaboutme?Whatdoesheknow?”
“Otherthanyourname?Nothing;youwereneveraround.”
Myadrenalineisrushingthroughmesofast,I’mshockedI’mstillsittingacrossfromher.MywholebodyistensewhenIleanforward.“Letmegetthisstraight.IhavealittlebrotherIneverknewabout,andhethinksIdidn’tcarethatheexisted?”
“Idon’tthinkheactivelythinksaboutyou,Atlas.You’vebeenabsenthiswholelife.”
Iignoreherdigbecauseshe’swrong.Anykidthatagewouldthinkaboutthebrothertheybelievedabandonedthem.I’msurehehatestheideaofme.Hell,he’sprobablytheonewhohasbeen—Shit.Ofcourse
Thisexplainssomuch.Iwouldbetbothofmyrestaurantsthathe’stheonewhohasbeenvandalizingthem.Andwhythemisspellingremindedmeofmymother.Thekidiseleven;I’msurehe’scapableofgooglingmyinformation.
“Wheredoyoulive?”Iaskher.
Shepracticallysquirmsinherseat.“We’reinbetweenhouses,sowe’vebeenstayingattheRisemoreInnforthepastcoupleofmonths.”
“Gobackthereincaseheshowsup,”Isuggest.
“Ican’taffordtostaythereanymore.I’minbetweenjobs,soI’mstayingwithafriendforacoupleofdays.”
Istandupandpullthemoneyoutofmypocket.Idropitonthetableinfrontofher.“Thenumberyoucalledmeontheotherday—isthatyourcell?”
Shenods,slidingthemoneyoffthetableandintoherhand.
“I’llcallyouifIfindoutanything.Gobacktothehotelandtrytogetthesameroom.Heneedsyoutobethereifhecomesback.”
Mymothernods,andforthefirsttime,shelookssomewhatashamed.Ileavehertositinthatfeelingwithoutsayinggoodbye.I’mhopingshe’sfeelingatleastafractionofwhatshemademefeelforyears.Whatshe’slikelymakingmylittlebrotherfeelrightnow.
Ican’tbelievethis.Shewentandmadeawholehumananddidn’tthinktotellme?
Iwalkstraightthroughthekitchenandoutthebackdoor.Nooneisinthealleyrightnow,soItakeamomenttopullmyselftogether.I’mnotsureI’veeverbeenthisstunned.
HerchildisoutthererunningthestreetsofBostonallaloneandshewaitstwogoddamnweeksbeforedoinganythingaboutit?Idon’tknowwhyitsurprisesme.Thisiswhosheis.It’swhoshe’salwaysbeen.
Myphonebeginstoring.I’msoonedge,Iwanttothrowitatthedumpster,butwhenIseeit’sLilyattemptingtoFaceTimeme,Isteadymyself.
Islidemyfingeracrossthescreen,preparedtotellheritisn’tagoodtime,butwhenherfacepopsup,itfeelsliketheperfecttime.I’mrelievedtohearfromher,eventhoughit’sonlybeenanhoursinceIlastsawher.I’dgiveanythingtoreachthroughthephoneandhugher.
“Hey.”Itrytokeepmyvoicestable,butthere’sasharpnesstoitthatcutsthrough.Shecantellbecauseherexpressiongrowsconcerned.
“Areyouokay?”
Inod.“ThingssortofwentsouthafterIwentbacktowork.I’mfine,though.”
Shesmiles,butit’skindofsad.“Yeah,mynightwentsouth,too.”
Ididn’tnoticeatfirst,butitlookslikeshe’sbeencrying.Hereyesareglassyandalittlepuffy.“Areyouokay?”
Sheforcesanothersmile.“Iwillbe.IjustwantedtosaythankyoufortonightbeforeIwenttosleep.”
Ihatethatshe’snotstandinginfrontofmerightnow.Idon’tlikeseeinghersad;itremindsmetoomuchofallthetimesIsawhersadwhenwewereyounger.AtleastbackthenIwascloseenoughtohugher.MaybeIstillcan.
“Wouldahugmakeyoufeelbetter?”
“Obviously.I’llbefineafterIgetsomesleep,though.Talktomorrow?”
Ihavenoideawhathappenedbetweenourdateandthisphonecall,butshelookscompletelydefeated.ShelooksverysimilartohowIfeel.
“Hugstaketwoseconds,andyou’llsleepsomuchbetter.I’llbebackherebeforetheyevenknowI’veleft.What’syouraddress?”
Asmallgrinpeeksthroughhergloom.“You’regoingtodrivefivemilesjusttogivemeahug?”
“I’drunfivemilesjusttogiveyouahug.”
Thatmakeshersmileevenbigger.“I’lltextyoumyaddress.Butdon’tknocktooloud;IjustputEmmydown.”
“Seeyousoon.”ChapterFourteenLily
I’vebeenoutofthedatingloopforawhile,soifhugiscodeforsomethingelse,Ihavenoidea.
Surelyahugstilljustmeansahug.
Icanbarelyworksocialmedia,muchlesskeepupwithslang.Iswear,I’mthemostout-of-touchmillennialIknow.It’sasifIskippedrightoverGenXandintoBoomerterritory.I’maBoomermillennial.Aboollennial.Hell,mymotherisaBoomerandprobablyknowsmoreaboutthesethingsthanIdo.She’stheonewithanewboyfriend.Ishouldcallherandaskforpointers.
Ibrushmyteeth,justincaseahugisakiss.AndthenIchangeclothestwice,untilIendupbackinthepajamasIhadonwhenIFaceTimedhim.I’mtryingwaytoohardtolooklikeI’mnottryingtoohard.Sometimesbeingawomanissodumb.
I’mpacingmyapartment,anxiousforhisknock.Idon’tknowwhyI’msonervous;Ijustspentthreehourswithhim.
Well,oneandahalfifIdon’tcountthenapItookinthemiddleofourdate.
Severaldozenpaceslater,there’salighttaponmyapartmentdoor.Iknowit’sAtlas,butIglancethroughthepeepholeanyway.
Heevenlooksgoodalldistortedthroughapeephole.IsmilewhenInoticedhechanged,too.Justhisjacket,butstill.Hewaswearingathickblackcoatwhenwewentoutearlier,butnowhe’swearingasimplegrayhoodie.
DearGod.Ilikeitsomuch.
Iopenthedoor,andAtlasleaveszerosecondsbetweenourfirstmomentofeyecontactandwhenhisarmssweepmeinforahug.
Heholdsmesotight,itmakesmewanttoaskhimwhatwassobadaboutthelasthour,butIdon’t.Ijustquietlyhughimback.Isettlemycheekagainsthisshoulderandrevelinthecomfortofhim.
Atlasdidn’tevenstepinsidemyapartment.We’rejuststandinginthedoorway,asifahugstilljustmeansahug.Hiscologneisnice.Itremindsmeofsummer,likehe’sdefyingthecold.Heseemedsoconcernedaboutsmellinglikegarlicearlier,butallIcouldsmellwasthissamecologne.
Heliftsahandtothebackofmyheadandrestsittheregently.“Youokay?”
“Iamnow.”Myresponseismuffledagainsthim.“You?”
Hesighs,buthedoesn’tsayhe’sokay.Hejustleaveshisanswerhanginginhisexhale,untilheslowlyreleasesme.Heliftsahandandrunshisfingersdownapieceofmyhair.“Ihopeyougetsomesleeptonight.”
“Youtoo,”Isay.
“I’mnotgoinghome,I’mstayingattherestauranttonight.”Heshakesthatsentenceofflikeheshouldn’thavesaidanything.“It’salongstory,andIneedtogetback.I’llcatchyouuponeverythingtomorrow.”
Iwanttoinvitehiminandmakehimgivemeallthedetailsrightnow,butIfeellikehe’dofferthemupifhewereinthemood.I’mcertainlynotinthemoodtotalkaboutwhathappenedwithRyle,soI’mnotgoingtoforcehimtotalkaboutwhateverputadamperonhisnight.IjustwishtherewasawayIcouldmakeitbetter.
IperkupwhenIthinkofsomethingthatmightdothetrick.“Doyouneedmorereadingmaterial?”
Hiseyesglintwithatwingeofexcitement.“Ido,actually.”
“Waithere.”Iheadtomybedroomandlookinmyboxofthings,searchingforthenextjournal.WhenIfindit,Itakeitbacktohim.“Thisoneisalittlemoregraphic,”Itease.
Atlastakesthejournalwithonehandandthenslideshisotherarmaroundmylowerbackandtugsmeagainsthim.Then,quickly,hestealsapeck.It’ssosoftandfast,itdoesn’tevenfullyregisterthathekissedmeuntilit’sover.
“Goodnight,Lily.”
“Goodnight,Atlas.”
Neitherofusmoves.Itfeelslikeitmighthurtifweseparate.Atlaspullsmeeventighteragainsthimandthenhelowershislipstothespotnearmycollarbonewheremytattooishiddenbeneathmyshirt.Thetattoohedoesn’tevenknowisthere.Hekissesitunknowingly,andthen,sadly,heleaves.
Iclosethedoorandpressmyforeheadagainstit.Ifeelallthefamiliarfeelingsofacrush,butthistimethosefeelingsareaccompaniedbyworryandhesitation,eventhoughit’sAtlas,andAtlasisoneofthegoodones.
IblameRyleforthat.HetookwhatlittletrustIhadleftinmenthankstomyfather,andhestrippedmeofit.
ButIthinkthiscrushisasignthatAtlasmightbeabletogivebackwhatmyfatherandRyletookfromme.MystomachmovesfromthefluttersAtlasleftmewithtowhatfeelslikeasix-footdroponthatthought,becauseIknowhowthatwouldmakeRylefeel.
ThemorejoyIgetfrommyinteractionswithAtlas,themoredreadIfeelabouthavingtobreakthenewstoRyle.ChapterFifteenAtlas
WhenIwasinthemilitary,IwasstationedwithafriendwhohadfamilyfromBoston.Hisauntanduncleweregettingreadytoretireandwantedtoselltheirrestaurant.ItwascalledMilla’s,andwhenIvisiteditonleaveoneyear,Iabsolutelyfellinlovewiththeplace.Icansayitwasthefood,orthefactthatitwaslocatedinBoston,butthetruthis,Ifellinlovewithitbecauseofthepreservedtreegrowinginthecenterofthemaindiningroom.
ThetreeremindedmeofLily.
Ifanythingisgoingtoremindsomeoneoftheirfirstlove,treesareprobablythelastthingyouwantasareminder.They’reeverywhere.WhichisprobablywhyI’vethoughtaboutLilyeverydaysinceIwaseighteen,butthatcouldalsobebecauseIstill,tothisday,feellikeIowehermylife.
I’mnotsureifitwasthetree,orthefactthattherestaurantcamealmostfullystockedandstaffed,butIfeltapulltobuyitwhenitbecameavailable.Itwasn’tmygoaltoownarestaurantrightoutofthemilitary.Ihadplannedtoworkasacheftogainexperience,butwhenthisopportunitypresenteditself,Icouldn’twalkawayfromtheprospect.IusedthemoneyIsavedupfrommytimeasaMarine,andIsecuredabusinessloan,boughttherestaurant,changedthename,andcreatedawholenewmenu.
SometimesIfeelguiltyforthesuccessBib’shashad—likeIhaven’tpaidmydues.Ididn’tjustinheritthestaff,whoalreadyknewwhattheyweredoing,butIinheritedcustomersaswell.Ididn’tbuilditfromthegroundup,whichiswhyIfeelaheavyamountofimpostersyndromewhenpeoplecongratulatemeonthesuccessofBib’s.
That’swhyIopenedCorrigan’s.Idon’tknowthatIwastryingtoproveanythingtoanyoneotherthanmyself,butIwantedtoknowthatIcoulddoit.Iwantedthechallengeofcreatingsomethingfromnothingandwatchingitflourishandgrow.LikewhatLilywroteinherjournalaboutwhyshelikedgrowingthingsinhergardenwhenwewereteenagers.
Maybethat’swhyIfeelmoreprotectiveofCorrigan’sthanIdooverBib’s,becauseIcreateditfromnothing.ThatmightalsobethereasonIputmoreeffortintoprotectingit.Corrigan’shasaworkingsecuritysystemandisahellofalothardertobreakintothanBib’s.
WhichiswhyIchosetospendtonightatBib’s,eventhoughCorrigan’sisduetobebrokenintoifwe’regoingbytherotatingschedulethiskidhasdeveloped.ThefirstnightwasBib’s,thesecondnightwasCorrigan’s,hetookafewdaysoff,andthenthethirdandfourthincidentswereatBib’s.Imaybewrong,butIhaveafeelinghe’llshowuphereagainbeforegoingbacktoCorrigan’s,simplybecausehe’shadmoresuccessgettingintothelesssecureofthetwoplaces.Ijusthopetonightisn’toneofthenightshedecidesnottoshowup.
He’lldefinitelyshowuphereifhe’shungry.Bib’sishisbetterbetforfood,whichiswhyI’mhidingonthefarsideofthedumpster,waiting.Ipulledoveroneofthetatteredchairsthesmokersuseontheirbreaks,andI’vebeenpassingtimebyreading.Lily’swordshavekeptmecompany.Alittletoowell,becausetherehavebeenseveraltimesI’vebeensoengrossedinthisjournal,IforgetthatI’msupposedtobeonalert.
Idon’tknowforcertainifthekidwhohasbeenvandalizingmyrestaurantsisthesamekidwhosharesamotherwithme,butthetimingmakessense.Andthetargetedinsultsthathe’sbeenspraypaintingmakesenseifthey’recomingfromakidwhodespisesme.Ican’tthinkofanyoneelsewhowouldhaveagoodreasontobeangrywithmemorethanalittleboywhofeelsabandonedbyhisolderbrother.
It’salmosttwointhemorning.IcheckthesecurityapponmyphoneforCorrigan’s,butthere’snothingnewhappeningoverthere,either.
Igobacktoreadingthejournal,eventhoughthelastcoupleofentrieshavebeenpainfultoread.Ididn’trealizehowmuchmyleavingforBostonimpactedLilywhenshewasyounger.Inmymindatthatage,Ifeltlikeaninconvenienceinherlife.IhadnoideahowmuchshefeltIbroughttoherlife.ReadingthelettersshewrotebackthenhasbeenalotmoredifficultthanIexpectedittobe.Ithoughtitwouldbefuntoreadherthoughts,butwhenIstartedreadingthem,Irememberedhowcruelourchildhoodsweretous.Idon’tthinkaboutitmuchanymorebecauseI’msofarremovedfromthelifeIlivedbackthen,butI’mbeingthrownbackintothosemomentsfromeveryanglethisweek,itseems.Theinformationinthejournalentries,mymother,findingoutIhaveabrother—itallfeelslikeeverythingI’vetriedrunningfromhasformedaslowleakthat’sthreateningtosinkme.
Butthenthere’sLilyandherimpeccabletimingbeingbackinmylife.ShealwaysseemstoshowupwhenIneedalifeline.
IflipthroughtherestofthejournalandseethatI’malreadyhalfwaythroughthelastentryshemade.Ihaveverylittlerecollectionofthatnightbecauseofthedreadfulwayitended.Partofmedoesn’tevenwanttoexperienceitfromherpointofview,butIcan’tnotknowhowIleftherfeelingforallthoseyears.
IopenthelastentryandpickupwhereIleftoff.
Hetookmyhandsinhisandtoldmehewasleavingsoonerthanheplannedforthemilitary,butthathecouldn’tleavewithouttellingmethankyou.Hetoldmehe’dbegoneforfouryearsandthatthelastthinghewantedformewastobeasixteen-year-oldgirlnotlivingmylifebecauseofaboyfriendInevergottoseeorhearfrom.
Thenextthinghesaidmadehisblueeyestearupuntiltheylookedclear.Hesaid,“Lily.Lifeisafunnything.Weonlygetsomanyyearstoliveit,sowehavetodoeverythingwecantomakesurethoseyearsareasfullastheycanbe.Weshouldn’twastetimeonthingsthatmighthappensomeday,ormaybeevennever.”
Iknewwhathewassaying.Thathewasleavingforthemilitaryandhedidn’twantmetoholdontohimwhilehewasgone.Hewasn’treallybreakingupwithmebecauseweweren’teverreallytogether.We’djustbeentwopeoplewhohelpedeachotherwhenweneededitandgotourheartsfusedtogetheralongtheway.
Itwashard,beingletgobysomeonewhohadneverreallygrabbedholdofmecompletelyinthefirstplace.Inallthetimewe’vespenttogether,Ithinkwebothsortofknewthiswasn’taforeverthing.I’mnotsurewhy,becauseIcouldeasilylovehimthatway.Ithinkmaybeundernormalcircumstances,ifweweretogetherliketypicalteenagersandhehadanaveragelifewithahome,wecouldbethatkindofcouple.Thekindwhocomestogethersoeasilyandneverexperiencesalifewherecrueltysometimesintercepts.
Ididn’teventrytogethimtochangehismindthatnight.Ifeellikewehavethekindofconnectionthateventhefiresofhellcouldn’tsever.IfeellikehecouldgospendhistimeinthemilitaryandI’llspendmyyearsbeingateenagerandthenitwillallfallbackintoplacewhenthetimingisright.
“I’mgoingtomakeapromisetoyou,”hesaid.“Whenmylifeisgoodenoughforyoutobeapartofit,I’llcomefindyou.ButIdon’twantyoutowaitaroundforme,becausethatmightneverhappen.”
Ididn’tlikethatpromise,becauseitmeantoneoftwothings.Eitherhethoughthemightnevermakeitoutofthemilitaryalive,orhedidn’tthinkhislifewouldeverbegoodenoughforme.
Hislifewasalreadygoodenoughforme,butInoddedmyheadandforcedasmile.“Ifyoudon’tcomebackforme,I’llcomeforyou.Anditwon’tbepretty,AtlasCorrigan.”
Helaughedatmythreat.“Well,itwon’tbetoohardtofindme.YouknowexactlywhereI’llbe.”
Ismiled.“Whereeverythingisbetter.”
Hesmiledback.“InBoston.”
Andthenhekissedme.
Ellen,Iknowyou’reanadultandknowallaboutwhatcomesnext,butIstilldon’tfeelcomfortabletellingyouwhathappenedoverthosenextcoupleofhours.Let’sjustsaywebothkissedalot.Webothlaughedalot.Webothlovedalot.Webothbreathedalot.Alot.Andwebothhadtocoverourmouthsandbeasquietandstillaswecouldsowewouldn’tgetcaught.
Whenwewerefinished,heheldmeagainsthim,skintoskin,handtoheart.Hekissedmeandlookedstraightinmyeyes.
“Iloveyou,Lily.Everythingyouare.Iloveyou.”
Iknowthosewordsgetthrownaroundalot,especiallybyteenagers.Alotoftimesprematurelyandwithoutmuchmerit.Butwhenhesaidthemtome,Iknewhewasn’tsayingitlikehewasinlovewithme.Itwasn’tthatkindof“Iloveyou.”
Imagineallthepeopleyoumeetinyourlife.Therearesomany.Theycomeinlikewaves,tricklinginandoutwiththetide.Somewavesaremuchbiggerandmakemoreofanimpactthanothers.Sometimesthewavesbringwiththemthingsfromdeepinthebottomoftheseaandtheyleavethosethingstossedontotheshore.Imprintsagainstthegrainsofsandthatprovethewaveshadoncebeenthere,longafterthetiderecedes.
ThatwaswhatAtlaswastellingmewhenhesaid“Iloveyou.”HewaslettingmeknowthatIwasthebiggestwavehe’devercomeacross.AndIbroughtsomuchwithmethatmyimpressionswouldalwaysbethere,evenwhenthetiderolledout.
Afterhesaidhelovedme,hetoldmehehadabirthdaypresentforme.Hepulledoutasmallbrownbag.“Itisn’tmuch,butit’sallIcouldafford.”
IopenedthebagandpulledoutthebestpresentI’deverreceived.Itwasamagnetthatsaid“Boston”onthetop.Atthebottomintinyletters,itsaid,“Whereeverythingisbetter.”ItoldhimIwouldkeepitforever,andeverytimeIlookatitI’llthinkofhim.
WhenIstartedoutthisletter,Isaidmysixteenthbirthdaywasoneofthebestdaysofmylife.Becauseupuntilthatsecond,itwas.
Itwasthenextfewminutesthatweren’t.
BeforeAtlashadshownupthatnight,Iwasn’texpectinghim,soIdidn’tthinktolockmybedroomdoor.Myfatherheardmeintheretalkingtosomeone,andwhenhethrewopenmydoorandsawAtlasinbedwithme,hewasangrierthanI’deverseenhim.AndAtlaswasatadisadvantagebynotbeingpreparedforwhatcamenext.
I’llneverforgetthatmomentforaslongasIlive.Beingcompletelyhelplessasmyfathercamedownonhimwithabaseballbat.Thesoundofbonessnappingwastheonlythingpiercingthroughmyscreams.
Istilldon’tknowwhocalledthepolice.I’msureitwasmymother,butit’sbeensixmonthsandwestillhaven’ttalkedaboutthatnight.Bythetimethepolicegottomybedroomandpulledmyfatheroffofhim,Ididn’tevenrecognizeAtlas,hewascoveredinsomuchblood.
Iwashysterical.
Hysterical.
NotonlydidtheyhavetotakeAtlasawayinanambulance,theyalsohadtocallanambulanceformebecauseIcouldn’tbreathe.ItwasthefirstandonlypanicattackI’veeverhad.
Noonewouldtellmewherehewasorifhewasevenokay.Myfatherwasn’tevenarrestedforwhathe’ddone.WordgotoutthatAtlashadbeenstayinginthatoldhouseandthathehadbeenhomeless.Myfatherbecamereveredforhisheroicact—savinghislittlegirlfromthehomelessboywhomanipulatedherintohavingsexwithhim.
MyfathersaidI’dshamedourwholefamilybygivingthetownsomethingtogossipabout.Andletmetellyou,theystillgossipaboutit.IheardKatieonthebustodaytellingsomeoneshetriedtowarnmeaboutAtlas.Shesaidsheknewhewasbadnewsfromthemomentshelaideyesonhim.Whichiscrap.IfAtlashadbeenonthebuswithme,Iprobablywouldhavekeptmymouthshutandbeenmatureaboutitlikehetriedtoteachmetobe.Instead,Iwassoangry,IturnedaroundandtoldKatieshecouldgotohell.ItoldherAtlaswasabetterhumanthanshe’deverbeandifIeverheardhersayonemorebadthingabouthim,she’dregretit.
Shejustrolledhereyesandsaid,“Jesus,Lily.Didhebrainwashyou?Hewasadirty,thievinghomelesskidwhowasprobablyondrugs.Heusedyouforfoodandsexandnowyou’redefendinghim?”
She’sluckythebusstoppedatmyhouserightthen.Igrabbedmybackpackandwalkedoffthebus,thenwentinsideandcriedinmyroomforthreehoursstraight.Nowmyheadhurts,butIknewtheonlythingthatwouldmakemefeelbetterisifIfinallygotitalloutonpaper.I’vebeenavoidingwritingthisletterforsixmonthsnow.
Nooffense,Ellen,butmyheadstillhurts.Sodoesmyheart.Maybeevenmorerightnowthanitdidyesterday.Thisletterdidn’thelponedamnbit.
IthinkI’mgoingtotakeabreakfromwritingtoyouforawhile.Writingtoyouremindsmeofhim,anditjustallhurtstoomuch.Untilhecomesbackforme,I’mjustgoingtokeeppretendingtobeokay.I’llkeeppretendingtoswim,whenreallyallI’mdoingisfloating.Barelykeepingmyheadabovewater.
—Lily
Iclosethejournalafterreadingthelastpage.
Idon’tknowwhattofeelbecauseIfeeleverything.Rage,love,sadness,happiness.
I’vealwayshatedthatIcouldn’tremembermostofthatnightnomatterhowhardItriedtothinkbackoneverywordthatwassaidbetweenus.ThefactthatLilywroteitalldownisagift—albeitasadone.
ThereweresomanythingsaboutthattimeinmylifethatIwasafraidshewastoofragiletohear.Ionlywantedtoprotectherfromthenegativestuffgoingoninmylife,butreadingherwordshasshownmethatshedidn’tneedprotectingfromit.Ifanything,shecouldhavehelpedmethroughit.
Itmakesmewanttowriteheranotherletter,butevenmore,itmakesmewanttobeinherpresence,talkingaboutthesethingsface-to-face.Iknowwe’retakingthingsslow,butthemoreI’maroundher,themoreimpatientIamtobearoundheragain.
Istanduptotakethejournalinsideandtograbsomethingtodrinkforthewait,butIpauseassoonasIcometoastand.There’sastreetlightattheotherendofthealleycreatingaspotlightonthebuilding,andthere’sashadowmovingacrossthelight.Theshadowtravelsacrossthebuildingintheotherdirection,asifwhateveriscastingtheshadowiscomingmyway.IbackupastepsothatIcanremainhidden.
Someoneeventuallycomesintoview.Akidclosesinonthebackdoor.
Idon’tknowifthiskidismybrother,butit’sdefinitelythesamepersonIsawonthesecurityfootageatCorrigan’s.Thesameclothes,thesamehoodietightenedaroundtheirface.
Iremainhiddenandwatchthem,becomingmoreandmoreconvincedbythesecondthatit’sexactlywhoIthinkitis.He’sbuiltlikeme.Heevenmoveslikeme.I’mfilledwithanxiousenergybecauseIwanttomeethim.IwanttotellhimthatI’mnotangryandthatIknowwhathe’sgoingthrough.
I’mnotsureIwasevenangryatwhoeverwasdoingthisbeforeIknewitcouldpotentiallybemybrother.It’shardtobeangryatakid,butit’sespeciallyhardtobeangryatonewhowasraisedbythesamewomanwhoattemptedtoraiseme.Iknowwhatit’sliketohavetodowhatyoucantosurvive.Ialsoknowwhatit’slikewhenyou’ddoanythingtogetsomeone’sattention.Anyone’s.ThereweretimesinmychildhoodIjustwantedtobenoticed,andIhaveafeelingthat’sexactlywhat’sgoingonhere.
He’shopingtobecaught.Thisismoreacryforattentionthananything.
Hewalksrightuptothebackdooroftherestaurantwithoutanounceofhesitation.Thisplacehasbecomefamiliartohim.Hechecksthebackdoortoseeifit’slocked.Whenitdoesn’topen,hepullsanewcanofspraypaintoutofhishoodie.Iwaitforhimtoliftit,andthat’swhenIdecidetomakemypresenceknown.
“You’reholdingitwrong.”Myvoicestartleshim.WhenhespinsaroundandlooksupatmeandIseehowyounghereallyis,myheartstringsstretchsotight,itfeelslikethey’reabouttopop.ItrytoimagineTheooutherealoneinthemiddleofthenightlikethis.
There’sstillayouthfulnesstothefearinhiseyes.WhenIstartwalkingtowardhim,hebacksupastep,lookingaroundforaquickescape.Buthedoesn’tattempttorun.
I’msurehe’scuriousaboutwhat’sgoingtohappen.Isn’tthiswhyhe’sbeenshowingupherenightafternight?
Iholdoutmyhandforthecanofspraypaint.Hehesitates,butthenhandsittome.Idemonstratehowtoholdittheproperway.“Ifyoudoitlikethis,itwon’tdrip.Youholdittooclose.”
Everyemotionisrunningacrosshisfaceashestudiesme,fromangertofascinationtobetrayal.Thetwoofusarequietaswetakeinjusthowmuchwelookalike.Webothtookafterourmother.Samejawline,samelighteyes,samemouths,downtotheunintentionalfrown.It’salotformetotakein.I’vebeenresignedtotheideathatIhadnofamily,yethereheisintheflesh.Itmakesmewonderwhathe’sfeelingwhilehelooksbackatme.Anger,obviously.Disappointment.
Ileanashoulderagainstthebuilding,lookingdownathimwithcompletetransparency.“Ididn’tknowyouexisted,Josh.Notuntilafewhoursago.”
Thekidshoveshishandsintothepocketsofhishoodieandlooksathisfeet.“Bullshit,”hemutters.
Thehardnessinhimatsuchayoungagemakesmesad.Iignoretheangerinhisresponseandpullmykeysouttounlockthebackdoortotherestaurant.“Youhungry?”Iholdthedooropenforhim.
Helookslikehewantstorun,butafteramomentofindecision,heduckshisheadandwalksinside.
Ifliponthelightsandmakemywayintothekitchen.IgrabtheingredientstomakehimagrilledcheeseandIstartcookingwhilehewalksaroundslowly,takingeverythingin.Hetouchesthings,opensdrawers,cabinets.Maybehe’stakinginventoryforthenexttimehedecidestobreakin.Ormaybehiscuriosityisacoverforhisfear.
I’mplatinghisfoodwhenhefinallyspeaksup.“HowdoyouknowwhoIamifyoudidn’tknowIexisted?”
Thisfeelslikeitcouldleadtoalengthyconversation,andI’dratherhaveitwhilehe’smorecomfortable.Thereisn’tatablebackherewithseating,soImotiontowardthedoorsthatleadintothediningroom.There’senoughlightfromtheexitsignsthatIdon’thavetopowerupthediningroomlights.
“Sithere.”Ipointtotableeightandhetakesaseatintheexactspotourmothersatinearliertonight.HestartseatingassoonasIsethisfooddown.“Whatdoyouwanttodrink?”
Heswallows,andthenshrugs.“Whatever.”
Igobacktothekitchenandpourhimaglassoficewaterandthenslideintotheboothacrossfromhim.Hedrinkshalfofitinonegulp.
“Yourmothershowedupheretonight,”Isay.“She’slookingforyou.”
Hemakesafacethatindicateshedoesn’tcare,andthenhecontinueseating.
“Wherehaveyoubeenstaying?”
“Places,”hesayswithamouthful.
“Areyouinschool?”
“Notlately.”
IlethimgetinafewmorebitesbeforeIcontinue.ThelastthingIwanttodoisrunhimoffwithtoomanyquestions.“Whydidyourunaway?”Iask.“Becauseofher?”
“Sutton?”
Inod.Iwonderwhatkindofrelationshiptheyhaveifhedoesn’tevencallher“Mom.”
“Yeah,wegotinafight.Wealwaysfightoverthestupidestshit.”Heeatshislastbite,thendownstherestofhiswater.
“Andyourdad?Tim?”
“HeleftwhenIwaslittle.”Hiseyesroamaroundtheroom,landingonthetree.Whenhelooksbackatme,hetiltshishead.“Areyourich?”
“IfIwas,Iwouldn’ttellyou.You’vetriedtorobmeseveraltimesnow.”
Icanseeasmirkplayingacrosshislips,butherefusestoreleaseit.Herelaxesintotheboothmore,pullinghishoodieawayfromhisface.Strandsofgreasybrownhairfallforward,andhepushesthemback.Hishairholdstheshapeofacutthat’slongoverdue,withsidesthathavegrownouttoolonganduneventobeintentional.
“Shetoldmeyouleftbecauseofme.Shesaidyoudidn’twantabrother.”
Ihavetoholdbackmyirritation.Ipullhisemptyplateoffoodandhisglasstowardme,andIstandup.“Ididn’tknowaboutyouuntiltoday,Josh.Iswear.IwouldhavebeenaroundifIhad.”
Heeyesmefromhisseat,studyingme.Wonderingifhecantrustme.“Youknowaboutmenow.”Hesaysthatlikeit’sachallengetodobetter.Toprovehislowexpectationsoftheworldwrong.
Inudgemyheadtowardthedoorstothekitchen.“You’reright.Let’sgo.”
Hedoesn’timmediatelygetoutofthebooth.“Whereto?”
“Myhouse.Ihavearoomforyouaslongasyoustopcussingsomuch.”
Heraisesaneyebrow.“Whatareyou,somekindofreligiousnutjob?”
Imotionforhimtostandup.“Aneleven-year-oldmutteringcusswordsallthetimeseemsdesperate.It’snotcooluntilyou’reatleastfourteen.”
“I’mnoteleven,I’mtwelve.”
“Oh.Shesaidyouwereeleven.Still.Tooyoungtobecool.”
Joshstandsupandstartstofollowmethroughthekitchen.
IspinandfacehimasIpushbackthroughthedoors.“Andforfuturereference,youspelledassholewrong.There’snow.”
Helookssurprised.“IthoughtthatlookedfunnyafterIwroteit.”
Iputhisdishesinthesink,butit’salmostthreeinthemorningandI’mnotinthemoodtowashthem.IflipoutthelightsandhaveJoshleadthewayoutthebackdoor.WhenI’mlockingit,hesays,“AreyougoingtotellSuttonwhereIam?”
“Idon’tknowwhatI’mgoingtodoyet,”Iadmit.Istartwalkingdownthealley,andherushestocatchupwithme.
“I’mthinkingofgoingtoChicago,anyway,”hesays.“Iprobablywon’tstaymorethanonenightatyourplace.”
IlaughattheideathatthiskidthinksI’mgoingtoallowhimtorunofftoanothercitynowthatIknowheexists.WhatamIgettingmyselfinto?Ihaveafeelingmyday-to-dayresponsibilitieshavejustdoubled.“DowehaveanyothersiblingsIdon’tknowabout?”Iaskhim.
“Justthetwins,butthey’reonlyeight.”
Istopinmytracksandlookathim.
Hegrins.“I’mkidding.It’sjustthetwoofus.”
Ishakemyheadandgrabthebackofhishoodie,pullingitdownoverhishead.“You’resomething.”
He’ssmilingwhenwemakeittomycar.I’msmiling,too,untilIfeelasharpstabofworryinthecenterofmygut.
I’veknownhimforhalfanhour.I’veknownofhimforafractionofaday.YetIsuddenlyfeellikeI’llbeprotectiveofhimforalifetime.ChapterSixteenLily
Youloseyourmorningsafterhavingchildren.
IusedtoopenmyeyesandlieinbedforseveralminutesbeforegrabbingmyphoneandcatchinguponeverythingImighthavemissedwhileIslept.I’dhaveacupofcoffee,andthenmentallymapoutmydaywhileIshowered.
ButnowthatIhaveEmmy,herearlymorningcryripsmeoutofbed,andIbecomehergopherbeforeIevenhavetimetopee.Irushtochangeher,rushtoclotheher,rushtofeedher.BythetimeI’mfinishedwithmorningmotherduties,I’mlateforworkandbarelyhavetimetodothosethingsformyself.
It’swhyIcherishSundaymornings.ItfeelsliketheonlydayoftheweekIgetanysenseofcalm.WhenEmmywakesuponSundays,Ialwaysbringherbacktobedwithme.WelietogetherandIlistentoherbabbleandthere’sabsolutelynorushtogetuporbesomewhere.
Sometimes,likerightnow,shefallsbacktosleep,andIjuststareatherforlongstretchesoftime—marvelingatthewonderthatismotherhood.
IgrabmyphoneandtakeapictureofhertotexttoRyle,butIhesitatebeforehittingsend.Idon’tmissRyleatall,butitdoesmakemesadinmomentslikethisthatRyledoesn’tgettodothiswithus,orthatIdon’tgettoshareinthejoystheyhavetogether.There’snothingbetterthanadoringthechildyoumadewiththepersonyoumadethemwith,whichiswhyIalwaystrytotexthimpicturesandvideos.ButI’mstillupsetaboutlastnightanddon’treallyfeellikereachingoutyet.Isavethepictureforamorepeacefulday.
FuckingRyle.
Divorceisdifficult.Iknewitwouldbe,butit’ssomuchharderthanIanticipated.Andnavigatingdivorcewithachildinthemixisamilliontimestrickier.You’restuckinteractingwiththatpersonfortheremainderofyourlife.Youhavetoeitherfigureoutawaytoplanbirthdaypartiestogetherorfigureoutawaytobeokaywithhavingseparatecelebrations.Youhavetoplanonwhichholidayseachofyougettospendwithyourchild,whichdaysoftheweek,downtowhichhoursofthedaysometimes.
Youcan’tsnapyourfingersandbedonewiththepersonyoumarriedanddivorced.You’restuckwiththem.Forever.
I’mstuckdealingwithRyle’sfeelingsforever,andfrankly,I’mgrowingtiredofalwaysfeelingsorryforhim,worriedforhim,fearfulofhim,considerateofhisfeelings.
HowlongamIsupposedtowaitbeforeIstartdatingsomeoneelsewithoutRylebeingjustifiedinhisjealousy?HowlongdoIhavetowaitbeforeItellhimI’mdatingAtlasifAtlasandIbecomeathing?HowlonguntilIgettostartmakingdecisionsaboutmyownlifewithoutworryingabouthisfeelings?
Myphonevibrates.It’smymothercalling.Islidesoftlyoutofthebedtowalktothelivingroombeforeansweringit.
“Hey.”
“CanIhaveEmersontoday?”
Ilaughatherblatantdisregardforherdaughternowthatshehasagranddaughter.“I’mgood,howareyou?”MymotherlovesEmmyasmuchasIdo—I’mconvincedofthat.WhenEmmyturnedsixweeksold,mymotherstartedtakingherforafewhoursatatimewhileIworked.Sheactuallystayedatherhouseovernightlastmonth—itwasEmmy’sfirstnightawayfrommesinceshe’dbeenborn.Shehadfallenasleepatmymother’s,andneitherofuswantedtowakeher,soIwentbackforherthenextmorning.
“RobandIarecloseby;wecouldcomepickherupintwentyminutes.We’regoingtothebotanicalgardens;Ithoughtitwouldbefuntogetherout.I’msureyoucouldusethebreak.”
“Yeah,sure.I’llgetherdressed.”
Halfanhourlater,there’saknockatmydoor.IopenitandletmymotherandRobinside.Mymotherbeelinesacrossthelivingroom,straighttoEmmy,whoisonapalletonthefloor.
“Hi,Mom.”Isayitteasingly.
“Lookatthisadorableoutfit,”mymothersays,pickingherup.“DidIbuyherthis?”
“No,it’sahand-me-downfromRylee,actually.”It’snicethatRyleeissixmonthsolder.Wehaven’thadtobuyEmmymanyclothesbecauseAllysagivesmemorethanenoughofRylee’s.Andthey’realwaysingreatconditionbecauseIdon’tthinkRyleeeverwearsanoutfittwice.
EmmyiswearingtheoutfitRyleeworeatherfirstbirthdayparty.IwashopingitwouldeventuallybepasseddowntoEmmy,becauseit’sadorable.It’sapairofpinkleggingswithgreenwholewatermelonsonthem,andagreenlong-sleevedtopwithapinksliceofwatermeloninthecenterofit.
MymotherhasboughtalmosteverythingelseEmmywears,includingthebluejacketI’mputtingonherrightnow.
“Thatdoesn’tmatchheroutfit,”mymothersays.“Where’sthepinkjacketIboughther?”
“It’stoolittle,andit’sajacket,andshe’soneyearold.Itdoesn’tmatterifshedoesn’tmatch.”
Mymotherhuffs,andIcantellbythatlookonherfacethatEmmyisgoingtocomehomeinabrand-newjacketthisafternoon.IkissEmmyonthecheek,andmymotherheadsforthedoor.
IhandRobthediaperbag,andhehoistsitoverhisshoulder.“Wantmetocarryher?”heasksmymother.
ShesqueezesEmmytighter.“I’vegother.”Sheaddressesmeoverhershoulder.“We’llbebackinafewhours.”
“Aboutwhattime?”Iaskher.Idon’tusuallyclarifyatimewithher,butI’mthinkingaboutaskingAtlaswhathe’sdoingrightnow.Wecanmaybegrablunchsincewe’rebothofftodayandI’mkid-free.
“I’lltextyou.Why?Areyougoingsomewhere?”sheasks.“Ifiguredyou’djustcatchuponsleep.”
Idon’tdaretellherImightsneakawaytomeetaguy.She’daskmequestionswellpastthebotanicalgardenclosinghours.“Yeah,I’llprobablyjustsleep.I’llkeepmyphoneon,though.Havefun.”
Mymotherisoutthedooranddownthehallway,butRobpausesandlooksatme.“Makesureyouparkyourcarinthesamespot.She’llnoticeifyoumoveit,andshe’llaskquestions.”Hewinks,aclearindicationthathecanreadmebetterthanshecan.
“Thanksfortheheads-up,”Iwhisper.
Iclosethedoorandgofindmyphone.I’vebeenrushingtogetEmmydressedandoutthedoor,soIhaven’tlookedatmyphonesinceIhungupwithmymother.IhaveamissedcallfromAtlasfromtwentyminutesago.
Mystomachflipswithanticipation.Ihopehe’sofftoday.Iusemyphonecameratocheckmyappearance,andthenIcallhimbackovervideochat.
Ihatedwhenhecalledmeovervideochatthefirsttime,butnowitfeelslikethenaturalthingtodo.Ialwayswanttoseehisface.Ilikeseeingwhathe’swearingandwherehe’satandthefaceshemakeswhenhesaysthethingshesays.
I’malreadysmilingwhenIhearthesoundthatindicateshe’sansweredthecall.Heliftsthephone,andwhenIfinallymakeoutwhatI’mlookingat,Icanseehe’sstandinginanunfamiliarkitchen.It’swhiteandbrightanddifferentfromthekitchenIrememberwhenIvisitedhishousealmosttwoyearsago.
“Morning,”hesays.He’ssmiling,buthelookstired,likeheeitherjustwokeuporisabouttofallasleep.
“Hey.”
“Sleepwell?”heasks.
“Idid.Finally.”Isquintmyeyestryingtoseepasthim.“Didyouremodelyourkitchen?”
Atlasglancesoverhisshoulder,andthenlooksbackatme.“Imoved.”
“What?When?”
“Earlierthisyear.Soldmyhouseandgotaplaceclosertotherestaurant.”
“Oh.That’snice.”Closertotherestaurantmeansclosertome.Iwonderhowfarapartwelivenow.“Areyoucooking?”
Atlasaimshisphoneathiscountertop.There’sapanofeggs,apileofbacon,pancakes,and…twoplatesTwoglassesofjuice.Myheartdrops.“That’salotoffood,”Isay,attemptingtohidetheimmensejealousyrunningthroughme.
“I’mnotalone,”hesays,panningthescreenbacktohisface.
Mydisappointmentmustbeclearlywrittenalloverme,becauseheimmediatelyshakeshishead.
“No,Lily.That’snot…”Helaughsandseemsflustered.Hisreactionisadorablebutnotentirelyreassuringyet.HeholdsthephoneupalittlehigheruntilIcanseeapersonstandingbehindhim.I’mnotsurewho’swithhim,butitisn’tanotherwoman.
It’sakid.
AkidwholooksjustlikeAtlas,andhe’sstaringrightatmewitheyesthatlookidenticaltoAtlas’seyes.DoeshehaveachildIdon’tknowabout?
Whatisgoingon?
“ShethinksI’myourson,”thekidsays.“You’refreakingherout.”
Atlasimmediatelyaimsthephonebackathisownface.“He’snotmyson.He’smybrother.”
Brother?
AtlasmovesthephonesothatI’mlookingathisbrotheragain.“SayhitoLily.”
“No.”
Atlasrollshiseyesandshootsmeanapologeticlook.“He’skindofajerk.”Hesaysthatrightinfrontofhislittlebrother.
“Atlas!”Iwhisper,shockedateverypartofthisconversation.
“It’sokay,heknowshe’sajerk.”
Iseethekidlaughbehindhim,soIknowheknowsAtlasiskidding.ButIamsoconfused.“Ihadnoideayouhadabrother.”
“Ididn’tknow,either.Foundoutlastnightafterourdate.”
Ithinkbackonlastnightandhowitwasobvioussomethingwasbotheringhimaboutthetexthereceived,butIhadnoideaitwasafamilyissue.Iguessthisexplainswhyhismotherwastryingtocontacthim.“Soundslikeyouhavealottoworkthroughtoday.”
“Wait,don’thangupyet,”hesays.Hewalksoutofthekitchenandintoanotherroomforprivacy.Heclosesadoorandsitsdownonhisbed.“Biscuitsstillhaveabouttenminutes,Icanchat.”
“Wow.Pancakesandbiscuits.He’saluckykid.Ihadblackcoffeeforbreakfast.”
Atlassmiles,buthissmiledoesn’treachhiseyes.Heseemedlikehewasinagoodmoodinfrontofhisbrother,butnowthatIhavehimalone,Icanseethestressinthewayhe’sholdinghimself.“Where’sEmmy?”heasks.
“Mymotherhasherforafewhours.”
Whenitregistersthatwe’rebothoffworkandIdon’thaveEmmy,hesighslikehe’sbummed.“Youmeanyouactuallyhaveafreeday?”
“It’sokay,we’retakingitslow,remember?Besides,it’snoteverydayyoufindoutyouhavealittlebrother.”
Hedivesahandthroughhishairandsighs.“He’stheonewhohasbeenvandalizingtherestaurants.”
Istartleatthatcomment.Ineedtohearmoreofthisstory.
“That’swhymymothertriedcallingmelastweek,toseeifI’dheardfromhim.Ifeellikeadickforblockinghernumbernow.”
“Youdidn’tknow.”I’mstandinginmylivingroom,butIwanttositdownforthisconversation.Iwalktothecouchandsetmyphoneonthearmofit,proppingitupwiththePopSocket.“Didheknowaboutyou?”
Atlasnods.“Yeah,andhethoughtIknewabouthim,whichiswhyhewastakingouthisangeronmyrestaurants.Otherthanthethousandsofdollarshecostme,heseemslikeagoodkid.Orheatleastseemslikehehasthepotentialtobeagoodkid.Idon’tknow,he’sgonethroughalotoftheshitIwentthroughwithmymother,sothere’snotellingwhatthat’sdonetohim.”
“Isyourmotherthere,too?”
Atlasshakeshishead.“Ihaven’ttoldherIfoundhimyet.Ispoketoafriendofminewho’salawyer,andhesaidthesoonerItellherthebetter,soshecan’tuseitagainstme.”
Useitagainsthim?“Areyouwantingtogetcustodyofhim?”
Atlasnodswithouthesitation.“Idon’tknowifthat’swhatJoshwants,butthereisn’tanotheroptionIcouldlivewith.Iknowwhatkindofmothersheis.Hementionedwantingtofindhisfather,butTimisevenworsethanmymother.”
“Whatkindofrightsdoyouhaveashisbrother?Any?”
Atlasshakeshishead.“Notunlessmymotheragreestolethimlivewithme.Notlookingforwardtothatconversation.She’llsaynojusttospiteme,but…”Atlasreleasesaheavysigh.“Ifhestayswithher,hewon’thaveachanceinhell.He’salreadyharderthanIwasatthatage.Angrier.I’mafraidofwhatthatangermightturnintoifhedoesn’tgainsomestabilityinhislife.Butwho’stosayI’mcapableofsomethinglikethis?WhatifIfuckhimupmorethanmymotherhas?”
“Youwon’t,Atlas.Youknowyouwon’t.”
Heacceptsmyreassurancewithaquickflashofasmile.“That’seasyforyoutosay;you’reanaturalatthiswholeraising-kidsthing.”
“Ijustfakeitwell,”Isay.“IhavenoideawhatI’mdoing.Noparentdoes.We’reallfullofimpostersyndrome,wingingiteveryminuteoftheday.”
“Whyisthatbothcomfortingandterrifying?”heasks.
“Youjustsummedupparenthoodwiththosetwowords.”
Heexhales.“Ishouldprobablygetbackinthereandmakesureheisn’trobbingme.I’llcallyoulatertoday,okay?”
“Okay.Goodluck.”
ThewayAtlassilentlymouthsthewordgoodbyeinreturnissexyashell.
WhenIendthecall,Ifallontomybedandsigh.IlovethewayIfeelafterItalktohim.Hemakesmegiddyandenergizedandhappy,evenwhenthecallisasshockingandchaoticasthatonewas.
IwishIknewwherehelived.I’dgogivehimadrive-byhugliketheonehegavemelastnight.Ihatethathe’sdealingwiththis,butatthesametimeI’mhappyforhim.Ican’timaginehowalonehe’sfeltsinceImethim,nothavingasinglefamilymemberinhislife.
Andthatpoorkid.It’slikeAtlasalloveragain,asifonekidfeelingthatunlovedbytheirmotherwasn’tenough.
Myphonechimes,indicatingIhaveatext.IsmilewhenIseeit’sfromhim.IsmileevenbiggerwhenIseehowlongthetextis.
Thankyouforbeingthemostcomfortingpartofmyliferightnow.ThankyouforalwaysbeingthebeaconIneedeverytimeIfeellost.Whetheryoumeantoshineonmeornot.Iamgratefulforyou.I’vemissedyou.Iabsolutelyshouldhavekissedyou.
I’mcoveringmymouthwithmyhandwhenIfinishreadingit.I’mfilledwithsomuchemotion,Idon’tknowwheretoputit.
Joshisluckytohaveyouinhislifenow.
Withinseconds,Atlasheartsmytext.ThenIsendanotherone.
Andyou’reright.Youabsolutelyshouldhavekissedme.
Atlasheartsthattext,too.ChapterSeventeenAtlas
Joshdoesn’ttrustme,butI’llwearhimdown.I’mwillingtobethedoesn’ttrustanyone,soI’mnottakingitpersonally.Ifhischildhoodisanythinglikeminewas,I’msurehe’sbeentoughenedattheageoftwelveinawaythatnokidshouldbefamiliarwith.
Asmuchasheglaresatmewithdistrustfuleyes,Icanalsosensethathe’scuriousaboutme.Hedoesn’taskmanyquestions,buthewatchesmeinawaythatmakesitobvioushehasamillionquestionsonthetipofhistongue.Forwhateverreason,hekeepsswallowingthemdown.He’sprobablywonderingwhyIwentsoeasyonhimlastnightafterfindingouthe’stheonewhodamagedmyrestaurants.He’salsoprobablywonderingwhyIdidn’tknowabouthim,andhowIturnedoutsovastlydifferentfrommymotherandTim.
Whateverhe’swondering,he’sattemptingtokeepatightlidonhisexpressions.Idon’twanttomakehimfeeluncomfortable,soI’vebeendoingmostofthetalkingwhileheeatsbreakfast.It’snotthathard;Ihavejustasmanyquestionsforhimashedoesforme.It’soneofthereasonsIcouldn’tsleeplastnightwhenwefinallymadeittomyhouse.Ikeptlisteningforthesoundofhimtryingtosneakoutofthehouse.Iwashonestlyshockedhewasstillherethismorning.
Asmuchasmyquestionsareprobablyannoyinghim,Icanrememberwhatitwasliketobetwelve.AllIwantedwasforsomeonetobeinterestedinwhoIwas,eveniftheywerefakinginterest.Ifhislifeisanythinglikeminewas,he’sgonetwelveyearsbeingignored,andIrefusetoallowhimtofeelthatwayundermyroof.ButI’veonlybeenaskinghimsafequestions.I’lleaseintothemoredifficultstuff.
Josheatsonethingatatime.Abiscuitfirst,thenbacon.He’scuttingintothepancakesforthefirsttimewhenIsay,“Whatareyouinterestedin?Anyhobbies?”
Hetakesabite,andoneofhiseyebrowsraisesabit,butIdon’tknowifit’sbecauseofthefoodormyquestion.“Why?”
“WhyamIaskingyouwhatyou’reinterestedin?”
Hisneckisstiffwhenhenods.
“I’vemissedtwelveyearsofyourlife.Iwanttoknowwhoyouare.”
Joshbreakseyecontactandforksmorepancakesintohismouth.“Manga,”hemutters.
Thatsurprisesme.ButthankstoTheo,Iactuallyknowwhatmangais.“What’syourfavoriteseries?”
“OnePiece.”Heshakeshishead,erasingthatanswer.“No,ChainsawManisprobablymyfavorite.”
That’saboutasfarintothatconversationasIcangowithoutsoundingignorant.“Wecangotoabookstorelatertodayifyouwant.”
Henods.“Thesearegoodpancakes.”
“Thanks.”
Iwatchhimtakeadrinkofhisjuice,andwhenhesetstheglassdown,hesays,“Whatareyouinterestedin?”Henodstowardtheplate.“Otherthancooking.”
Idon’tknowhowtoanswerthat.Mostofmytimeisgiventomyrestaurants.WhatevertimeIhaveleftoverisspentonhouserepairs,laundry,sleep.“IliketheCookingChannel.”
Joshchuckles.“That’ssad.”
“Why?”
“Isaidbesidescooking.”
It’saharderquestionthanIthought,nowthatit’sbeingthrownbackatme.“Ilikemuseums,”Isay.“Andgoingtothemovies.Andtraveling.Ijustdon’tdoanyofthosethings.”
“Becauseyou’realwaysworking?”
“Yeah.”
“LikeIsaid.Sad.”Heleansoverhisplatetocatchanotherbiteofpancake.
Theget-to-know-youquestionsarebackfiring,soIcutrighttothechase.“Whatwasyourfightabout?”
Heshrugs.“HalfthetimeIdon’tevenknowwhatthehellIdowrong.Shejustgetsmadfornoreason.”
Icanrelatetothat.IlethimeatforawhilebeforeIposeanotherquestion.“Wherehaveyoubeenstaying?”
Joshdoesn’tlookatme.Hescootsfoodaroundonhisplateforamoment,andthensays,“Yourrestaurant.”Hiseyesslowlyjourneybackovertomine.“Youhaveareallycomfortablecouchinyouroffice.”
“You’vebeensleepinginsidetherestaurant?Forhowlong?”
“Twoweeks.”
I’minshock.“Howhaveyoubeengettingin?”
“Youdon’thaveanalarmatthatonerestaurant,andIfinallyfiguredouthowtopickthelockafterafewtries.Yourotherrestaurantwastoohardtogetinto,though.”
“Youknowhowtopick…”Ican’thelpbutlaugh.BradandDarinaregoingtolovesayingItoldyouso.“Why’dyougofromsleepingtheretovandalizingit?”
Joshlooksatmereluctantly.“Idon’tknow.IguessIwasmad.”Hepusheshisplateawayandleansbackinhischair.“Whatnow?DoIhavetogobacktoher?”
“Whatdoyouwanttohappen?”
“Iwanttolivewithmydad.”Hescratchesathiselbow.“Canyouhelpmefindhim?”
IwanttofindTimaboutasmuchasIwantedtofindmymother,whichisnotatall.“Doyouknowanythingabouthim?”
“IthinkhelivesinVermontnow.Ijustdon’tknowwhere.”
“When’sthelasttimeyousawhim?”
“Afewyearsago.Buthedoesn’tknowwheretofindmeanymore.”
Joshlookseverybithisagerightnow.Afragilekid,abandonedbyhisfatherbutrefusingtolosehope.Idon’twanttobetheonetoripthatfromhim,soIjustnod.“Yeah,I’llseewhatIcando.Butfornow,Ineedtoletyourmotherknowyou’reokay.Ihavetocallher.”
“Why?”
“IfIdon’t,thiscouldbeconsideredkidnapping.”
“NotifI’mherewillingly,”hesays.
“Evenifyou’reherewillingly.Youaren’toldenoughtodecidewhereyouwanttolive,andrightnow,yourmotherhaslegalcustodyofyou.”
Hegrowsvisiblyirritated.Hestabsathisbreakfastwithascowl,butdoesn’ttakeanotherbite.
IstepawaytocallSutton.Iunblockedhernumberaftersheleftmyrestaurantlastnightincasesheneededtogetintouchwithme.Idialhernumberandputthephonetomyear.Afterafewrings,shefinallyanswerswithaverygroggyhello.
“Hey.Ifoundhim.”
“Whoisthis?”
IbrieflyclosemyeyeswhileIwaitforhertowakeupandrememberhersonismissing.Afterafewquietseconds,shegoes,“Atlas?”
“Yeah.IfoundJosh.”
Icanhearrustlingfromherendlikeshe’shoppingoutofbed.“Wherehashebeen?”
Ireallydon’twanttoanswerthat.Iknowshe’shismother,butIfeellikeit’snoneofherbusinesswherehe’sbeen,whichisanunusualopiniontohave.“I’mnotsurewherehe’sbeen,buthe’swithmenow.Listen…Iwaswonderingifhecouldstayhereforawhile?Maybegiveyouabreak?”
“Youwanthimtostaytherewithyou?”Thewaysheputstheemphasisonthatlastwordmakesmewince.ThisisgoingtobeharderthanIthought.She’sthetypeofpersonwhofightsforthesakeoffighting,nomatterwhatoutcomeshereallywants.
Icouldenrollhiminschoolandmakesureheattends,”Iofferup.“Takethetruancyheatoffyou.”It’squietonherend,likemaybeshe’scontemplatingthat.
“Suchamartyr,”shemutters.“Bringhimback.Now.”Sheendsthecall.
Iattempttocallherbackthreetimes,butshesendsthecallstovoicemail.
“Thatdidn’tsoundpromising,”Joshsays.He’sstandinginthedoorwayofthekitchen.I’mnotsurehowmuchheheardonmyend,butatleasthecouldn’thearherend.
Islidemyphoneinmypocket.“Shewantsyoubacktoday.ButI’llcallalawyertomorrow.Hell,I’llcallChildProtectiveServicesifyouwantmeto.There’sjustnotmuchIcandoonaSunday.”
Josh’sshouldersdropwhenIsaythat.“Willyouatleastgivemeyourphonenumber?”Heasksthatlikehe’sscaredI’mgoingtosayno.
“Ofcourse.I’mnotgoingtoabandonyounowthatIknowyouexist.”
Hepicksataholeinhissleeve,avoidingeyecontactwithmewhenhesays,“Iwouldn’tblameyouforbeingmadatme.Icostyoualotofmoney.”
“Youdiddothat,”Isay.“Thosecroutonswereexpensive.”
Joshlaughsforthefirsttimethismorning.“Dude,thosecroutonswerefuckingdelicious.”
Igroan.“Don’tusethatword.”
TheRisemoreInnisclearontheothersideofBoston.Ittakesusforty-fiveminuteswithtraffictogetthere,andit’snotevenaweekday.Whenwepullintotheparkinglot,Joshdoesn’timmediatelygetoutofthecar.Hejustsitsquietlyinthepassengerseat,staringatthebuildinglikeit’sthelastplacehewantstobe.
IwishIdidn’thavetoreturnhimtohismother,butIputinanothercalltomylawyerfriendthismorningaftertalkingwithSutton.HesaidifIwanttogoaboutthistherightwaywithoutherhavingammunitionagainstme,theonlythingIcandoisreturnhim.Andthen,ifIwanttotakehertocourt,hesaidIneedtogetalawyerandgothroughtheprocess.
Anythingdoneoutsidetheprocesscouldbeamarkagainstme.
Apparently,youcan’tjustkidnapyoursibling,evenifyouknowthey’reindanger.
IwantedtoexplainallofthistoJoshinmoredetail—tolethimknowI’mnotjustabandoninghimwithher—buthe’ssohell-bentthathe’sgoingtolivewithhisdad,I’mnotsureheevenwantstolivewithme.AndI’mnotsureI’mpreparedtoraisealittlebrother,butaslongasI’malive,there’snowayIcanwillinglyleavehiminthiswoman’spermanentcustodywithoutatleasttrying.
UntilIcanfigureoutwhattodonext,Idon’twanthimtofindhimselfinasituationwherehehasnofoodtoeat,ornomoneytoextendtheirhotelstay.Ipulloutmywalletandhandhimacreditcard.
“CanItrustyouwiththis?”
Joshlooksatthecreditcardinmyhand,andhiseyesgrowalittlewide.“Idon’tknowwhyyouwould.I’vespentthelasttwoweekstryingtodestroyyourbusinesses.”
Ipushthecreditcardtowardhim.“Useitforbasicnecessities.Food,minutesforyourphone.”Westoppedonthewayhereandgothimaprepaidphonesohecouldstayintouchwithme.“Maybesomenewclothesthatfit.”
Joshreluctantlytakesthecreditcardoutofmyhand.“Idon’tevenknowhowtouseoneofthese.”
“Youjustswipeit.Butdon’ttellSuttonyouhaveit.”Ipointathisphone.“Hideitbetweenyourcaseandyourphone.”
Hepopsthecaseoffhisphoneandputsthecreditcardinsideofit.Thenhesays,“Thankyou.”Heputshishandonthecardoor.“Areyoucomingtotalktoher?”
Ishakemyhead.“It’sprobablybestifIdon’t.It’llprobablyjustmakeherangrier.”
Joshsighs,andthengetsoutofthecar.Westareateachotherforafewsecondsbeforehefinallyclosesthecardoor.
Ifeellikesuchadickbringinghimbackhere.ButIhavetodothistherightway.IfIdon’treturnhim,shecouldfilechargesonme.Andknowingher,sheprobablywould.It’sbestifIjustleavehimfortodayandthenassoonastheweekbeginstomorrow,IcanmakephonecallsandfigureoutwhatIcandotomovehiminwithme.
Iknowifhestaysherewithher,heisn’tgoingtohaveachanceinhell.IluckedoutfindingLily.Shesavedmylife.ButI’mnotsurethere’senoughluckintheworldforbothofustobesavedbyarandomstranger.
I’mallhehas.
IremaininmycarasJoshmakeshiswayacrosstheparkinglot.Hewalksupthestairsandknocksontheseconddoorfromtheend.Helooksoverhisshoulderatme,soIwaverightasthedoorswingsopen.
IcanseetherageinSutton’seyesallthewayfrommypositionintheparkinglot.Sheimmediatelybeginsyellingathim.Andthensheslapshim.
MyhandisonthedoorhandlebeforeJoshevenhasachancetoreacttotheslap.Sutton’shandisnowgrippingJosh’sarmassheyankshimintothehotelroom.I’mseveralfeetawayfrommycarwhenIseehimtripoverthethresholdanddisappearintotheroom.
I’mtakingthestairstwoatatime,myheartracing.Ireachthedoorbeforesheevenclosesit.Joshisstilltryingtoscrambletohisfeet,butshe’shoveringoverhim,scoldinghim.
“Icouldhavegonetojail,youlittleshit!”
ShehasnoideaI’mbehindher.IwrapmyarmaroundherwaistandpullherawayfromJoshbypickingherupanddroppingherontothemattressbehindme.Ithappenssofast,she’stooshockedtoreact.
IhelpJoshtohisfeet.Hisphoneisafewfeetawayonthefloor,soIgrabitandhandittohim,thenurgehimtowardthedoor.
Suttonrealizeswhat’shappening,andshejumpsoffthebed.She’sfollowingusoutthedoor.“Bringhimback!”Ifeelherhandsonmenow.She’syankingatmyshirt,tryingtogetmetostopormoveasidesoshecangettoJosh.
Iurgehimforward.“Gotothecar.”Hecontinuestowardthestairs,andthenIstopwalkingandspinaroundtofaceher.Shesucksinaquickgaspafterseeingtheabsolutefuryinmyeyes.Thensheslapsherpalmsagainstmychestandshovesme.
“He’smyson!”sheyells.“I’llcallthepolice!”
Ireleaseanexasperatedlaugh.Iwanttotellhertocallthepolice.Iwanttoscreamather.Butmostofall,IwanttogetJoshawayfromher.She’snotgoingtoruinhislifeonmywatch
Idon’tevenhavetheenergytosayanythingtoheratall.Thiswomanisn’tworthmywords.Ijustwalkaway,leavingherscreamingatmelikeoldtimes.
JoshisalreadysittinginthefrontseatofmycarwhenImakeitback.Islammydoorandgripmysteeringwheelwithbothhandsbeforestartingthecar.IneedtocalmmyselfdownbeforeIgetbackontheroad.
Joshseemsunusuallycalmforwhatjusthappened.Itmakesmewonderifthat’sanaverageinteractionbetweenthembecauseheisn’tevenbreathingheavily.He’snotcrying.He’snotcussing.He’sjustwatchingme,andIrealizehowIreactinthismomentisquitepossiblysomethinghe’llabsorbforalifetime.
Islidemyhandsdownthesteeringwheelandcalmlyexhale.
Josh’scheekisred,andthere’sasmallgashonhisforeheadthat’sbleeding.Iretrieveanapkinfromthegloveboxandhandittohim,thenflipthevisordownsohecanseewheretowipe.
“Isawherslapyou,butwhere’dthecutcomefrom?”
“IthinkIhittheTVstand.”
Slowandsteady,Atlas.Iputmycarinreverseandbackoutoftheparkinglot.“Maybeweshouldswingbytheemergencyroomandhavethemcheckoutyourcut.Makesureyoudon’thaveaconcussion.”
“It’sokay.Icanusuallytellwhenit’saconcussion.”
Hecanusuallytell?Iclenchmyjawassoonashesaysthat.IrealizeIhaveabsolutelynoideawhatkindofhellthiskidhasalreadybeenthrough,andIwasabouttosendhimrightbackintothefire.“Bettertobesafe,”Isay,butwhatImeanis,BettertogetthisdocumentedincaseweneedproofofherabuseatalaterdateChapterEighteenLily
It’sbeenfivedayssinceI’veseenAtlas.ItrynottostressoverhowbusywearebecauseIknowit’llgetbetteronceI’mcomfortableenoughtolethimspendtimearoundEmmy.ButtheresponsiblethingtodoistoletEmmy’sfatherknowwhenIstartseeingsomeoneelsebeforeIbringanyonearoundher.
It’sjustfrustratingthattheresponsiblethingtodoisalsoaterrifyingthingtodo.Iplantoputitoffforaslongaspossible.There’snoshameinbeingpatient.
TheflowershopisunderstaffedthisweekwithLucy’supcomingwedding,andAtlashasbeendealingwithlegalstuffregardingcustody,runningtwobusinesses,andtakingcareofakid.Ontopofallthat,thefevermymotherhadlastweekturnedintothefull-fledgedflu,soshehasn’tbeenabletowatchEmmyatall.I’vebroughtherwithmetwooutofthethreedaysI’veworkedthisweek.
It’sjustbeenaweekfromhell.Toobusytoevengetadrive-byhug.
RyleandMarshalltookthegirlstothezootoday.Emmyismorethanlikelytooyoungtoenjoyit,soitshouldmakeforaninterestingdayforRyle.
Thecustodyexchangewasfinethismorning,eventhoughwehaven’tspokensinceourconversationontherooflastweekabouthermiddlename.Hewasalittlecurt,butIpreferhiscurtnesstothesubtlepasseshesometimesstillmakesatme.
Allysaisworkingwithmetodaysinceshedoesn’thaveRylee.Shejustreturnedwithcoffeenowthatwe’recaughtuponeverything.Wegotallourordersoutwiththedeliverytruckanhourago,sothisisthefirsttimewe’veactuallyhadtimetospeakinprivatesincemydatewithAtlaslastweek.
Allysahandsmemycoffeeandthentapsthemouseonthecomputertocheckfornewonlineorders.
“WhatareyouwearingtoLucy’swedding?”Iaskher.
“We’renotgoing.”
“What?”
“Wecan’t.It’smyparents’fortiethweddinganniversary.RyleandIaredoingthatsurprisedinner.”
Shetoldmeaboutthat,butIhadnoideaitwasthesamedayasLucy’swedding.
“It’stheonlyeveningRylecouldgetaway,”shesays.
Ideflate.IhateRyle’sschedule.Iknowit’llgetbetterovertime,whenhe’snolongeroneofthenewestsurgeonsonstaff,butevenwhenhishoursaren’tmakingcustodydifficult,he’smakingmybestfriendchoosebetweenaweddingandherparents.
Iknowit’snotRyle’sfault,butIlikesilentlyblamingstuffonhimthathehasnocontrolover.Itfeelsgood.
“DoesLucyknowyouaren’tgoing?”
Allysanods.“She’sfinewithit.Twolessmouthstofeed.”Shetakesasipofhercoffee.“AreyoutakingAtlas?”
“Ididn’tinvitehim.IthoughtyouandMarshallweregoing,andIdidn’twanttoaskyouandMarshalltolieformeagain.”IfeltbadthatIaskedAllysatowatchEmmylastweekformydatebecauseIknewshe’dhavetolietoRyleifitcameup.Andshedidenduphavingtolietohim.
“WhenareyouplanningtotellRyleyou’rebackonthedatingscene?”
Igroan.“DoIhaveto?”
“He’llfindouteventually.”
“IwishIcouldjustpretendIwasdatingsomeguynamedGreg.Idon’tknowthathe’dbeasthreatenedbyaGreg.MaybeIdon’thavetobespecificaboutwhoI’mdating,andhewon’tbeasangry.I’lleasehimintotheknowledgeofitbeingAtlasafteradecadeortwo.”
Allysalaughs,butthenshelooksatmecuriously.“WhydoesRylehateAtlassomuch,anyway?”
“Hedidn’tlikethatIkeptmementosfrombackwhenAtlasandIdated.”
Allysaisstaringatme.Waiting.“Whatelse?”
Ishakemyhead.There’snothingelse.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“DidyoucheatonRylewithAtlas?”
“What?No.God,no.IneverwouldhavedonethattoRyle.”I’malittleoffendedbyherquestion,butthenagainI’mnot.Ryle’sreactionwouldnaturallymakeanyonequestionwhatledtothatkindofreaction.
Allysa’seyesareswimminginpuzzlement.“Istilldon’tgetit.Ifyouweren’tactivelycheatingonhimwiththeguy,whydoesRylehatehim?”
Ireleaseanexaggeratedsigh.“I’veaskedmyselfthatamilliontimes,Allysa.”
Shemakesanannoyedfaceonlysiblingscouldreserveforeachother.“IneverwantedtoaskbecauseIthoughtyouwereashamedthatyoucheatedonmybrotherandjustdidn’twanttotellme.”
“Ihaven’tevenkissedAtlassinceIwassixteen.Rylejustcouldn’thandlethatmypastsometimescreptintomypresent,inanabsolutelyplatonicway.”
“Wait.Youhaven’tkissedAtlassinceyouweresixteen?”Shelatchedontotheabsolutewrongpointofthisconversation.“Notevenonyourdatelastweek?”
“We’retakingitslow.Andthat’sfinebyme.Theslowerwetakethings,themoretimeitgivesmebeforeIhavetobreakittoyourbrother.”
“IthinkyoushouldjustripofftheBand-Aid.”Shepointsatmyphoneonthecounter.“TextRylerightnowandtellhimyou’redatingAtlas.He’llgetoverit;hedoesn’thaveachoice.”
“ThisissomethingIneedtotellhiminperson.”
“You’retooconsiderate.”
“You’retoona?ve.IfyouthinkRyleisgoingtogetoverit,youdon’tknowyourbrotherverywell.”
“I’veneverclaimedto.”Allysasighsanddropsherchinintoherhand.“MarshalltoldmehetoldyouIcheatedonhim.”
Iamsogladshe’schangingthesubject.“Yeah,thatwasashock.”
“Drunkenmistake.Iwasnineteen;nothingcountsbeforeyouturntwenty-one.”
Ilaugh.“Isthatright?”
“Yep.”Shehopsonthecounterandstartsswingingherlegs.“TellmemoreaboutAtlas.TellmelikeI’myourbestfriendandnotyourex-husband’ssister.”
Andwe’rebacktothisconversation.Thatwasaquickbreak.“Yousurethisisn’tawkwardforyou?”
“Why,becauseRyleismybrother?No,notawkwardatall.Heshouldhavebeennicertoyou,andthenyouwouldn’thavetodateGreekgods.”Shewiggleshereyebrowswithagrin.“So,what’shelike?Heseemsmysterious.”
“He’snot,really.Nottome.”Icanfeelthesmilewantingtospreadacrossmyface,soIletit.“He’ssoeasytotalkto.Andhe’skind.He’sMarshallkind,butnotasoutgoing.He’smorereserved.Heworksalot,andIhaveEmmyallthetime,soit’sbeenhardtomaketimeforanythingtogether.Plus,hejustfoundouthehasalittlebrotherthisweek,sohislifeiskindofchaoticrightnow.Textsandphonecallsareourprimarysourceofcommunication,sothatsucks.”
“Isthatwhyyoukeepcheckingyourphone?”
Icanfeelmycheekswarmwhenshesaysthat.Ihatethatshe’snoticed.I’vetriedmybesttobeinconspicuouswiththis.Idon’twantanyonetoknowhowoftenAtlasandItext,orhowoftenIthinkabouttextinghim,orhowoftenIthinkabouthim.
MaybeI’mscaredtotalkaboutitwithAllysabecauseIdon’twanttoallowmyselftobehappyaboutAtlasuntilIknowRyleisn’tgoingtobefuriousoverAtlas.
Ireceiveatextrightinthemiddleofthatthought,andittakeseverythinginmetofightmysmilewhenIlookatmyphoneandreadit.
“Isthathim?”Allysaasks.
Inod.
“What’shesaying?”
“HeaskedmeifIwanthimtobringmelunch.”
“Yes,”Allysasaysemphatically.“Tellhimyou’restarving,andsoisyourfriend.”
IlaughandthenreplytoAtlaswith,Couldyoubringlunchfortwotoday?Mycoworkergetsjealouswhenyoubringmefood.
Heimmediatelyreplieswith,Bethereinanhour.
WhenAtlasfinallyshowsup,bothAllysaandIarebusywithcustomers.He’scarryingabrownpaperbag.Imotionforhimtowaitbythecounter,sohestandspatientlywhilewefinishup.Allysaisfinishedfirst,andforatleastfiveminutes,sheandAtlasarehavingaconversationIcan’thearfromthissideoftheshop.I’mtryingtogivemyattentiontothecustomerinfrontofme,butknowingAllysaisspeakingfreelytoAtlashasmemorethannervous.Ineverknowwhat’sgoingtocomeoutofhermouth.
Atlaslookspleased,though.Whatevershe’stellinghim,he’senjoyingit
ItfeelslikeadecadelaterwhenI’mfinallyfreetojointhem.AtlasleansinandgreetsmewithakissonthecheekwhenIreachhim.Hisfingersgrazemyelbowforseveralsecondsafterourgreetingbeforehepullshishandaway.Thatsimplephysicalgesturesendsacurrentthroughme,makingithardtofocuswithoutbeingtooobviousthatIgetgiddyaroundhim.
Allysasmilesatmeknowingly.“AdamBrody,huh?”
Ihavenoideawhatshe’sreferringtountilIlookatAtlasandhe’sgrinning.IhadaposterofAdamBrodyonmybedroomwallthefirsttimeAtlascametomyhouse.
IshoveAtlas’sarm.“Iwasfifteen!”
Helaughs,andIlovethatAllysaisbeingnicetohim.Iknowshehaseveryrighttogivecompleteloyaltytoherbrother,butit’snotinhertoberudetopeoplesimplybecauseotherpeopledon’tlikethem.
She’snotaride-or-diefriend,norisshearide-or-diesister.That’swhatIlovethemostabouther,becauseI’mnotride-or-die,either.Ifyoudosomethingstupid,I’mgoingtobethefriendwhotellsyouyou’redoingsomethingstupid.I’mnotgoingtojoinyouinyourstupidity.
Iwantmyfriendstotreatmethesameway.Ipreferhonestyoverloyaltyanyday,becausewithhonestycomesloyalty.
“Thankyouforlunch,”Isay.“DidyougetJosh’sschoolsituationsettled?”
Atlashasbeenworkingtoenrollhiminaschoolmorelocaltowherehelives,ratherthantheschoolJoshwasinallthewayacrosstown.
“Idid.Fingerscrossedtheydon’tlooktoohardintotheenrollmentformsIhadtofillout.Iliedalittle.”
“I’msureit’llbefine,”Isay.“Ican’twaittomeethim.”
“Howoldishe?”Allysaasks.
“Hejustturnedtwelve,”Atlassays.
“Whoa,”Allysasays.“Worstageever.Butatleastyoudon’thavetopayfordaycare.Silverlining.”Allysasnapsherfingers.“Speakingofchildren,Lilywon’thaveEmersonnextSaturdaybecauseshe’sgoingtoawedding.Anightoutallbyherselfasasingleadult.”
Irollmyheadandlookather.“Iwasabouttoinvitehim.Ididn’tneedyourhelp.”
Atlasperksup.“Awedding,huh?”Aslysmileplaysonhislips.“Youplanonsleepingthroughit?”
Iimmediatelyblush,andthatmakesAllysacurious.Atlasturnstoherandsays,“Shedidn’ttellyoushesleptthroughourfirstdate?”
I’mnotevenlookingatAllysa,butIcanfeelherstaring.“Iwastired,”Isay,excusingtheinexcusable.“Itwasanaccident.”
“Oh,Iabsolutelyneedmoreofthisstory,”Allysasays.
“Shefellasleeponourdrivethere.Sleptinaparkinglotforoveranhour.Weneverevenmadeitintotherestaurant.”
Allysastartslaughing,andIkindofwanttocrawlunderthecounterandhidenow.
“Who’sgettingmarried?”Atlasasksme.
“MyfriendLucy.Sheworkshere.”
“Whattime?”
“It’satseven.Nighttimeweddingifyoucanswingit.”
“Ican.”Atlasdoesthisthingwithhiseyeswherehebrieflylookslikehewisheswewerealone.It’ssendingtinglesofwarmthcrawlingdownmyspine.“Ineedtogetback.Enjoyyourlunch.”HenodsatAllysa.“Itwasniceofficiallymeetingyou.”
“Youtoo,”shesays.
Hegetshalfwaytotheexitwhenhestartswhistling.Hewalksawayinacheerfulmood,anditmakesmyheartswelltoseehimsohappy.Ihavenoideaifhisgoodmoodhasanythingtodowithme,buttheteenagegirlinmewhowasworriedabouthimallthoseyearsagoisextremelypleasedtoseehimdoingsowellinlife.
“What’swrongwithhim?”
WhenIglanceatAllysa,she’sstaringcuriouslyatthedoorAtlasjustdisappearedoutof.“Whatdoyoumean?”
“Whyisn’themarried?Whydoesn’thehaveagirlfriend?”
“Hopefullyhe’llhaveagirlfriendsoon.”Ican’tsayitwithoutsmiling.
“He’sprobablybadinbed.Maybethat’swhyhe’ssingle.”
“Heisdefinitelynotbadinbed.”
Herjawdrops.“Yousaidyouhaven’tevenkissedhimyet;howwouldyouknow?”
“Asadults,”Isay.“YouforgetIhaveahistorywithhim.Hewasmyfirst,andhewasvery,verygood.AndI’msurehe’sgottenevenbetter.”
Allysastaresatmeforabeat,thensays,“I’mhappyforyou,Lily.”Butshe’sfrowning.“Marshallisgoingtolikehim,too.He’ssolikable.”Shesaysthatlikeit’stheworstpossibleoutcome.
“Andthat’sabadthing?”
“Idon’tknowifit’sagoodthing,”shesays.“Thiswholethingismuddled;youknowthat.Idon’tneedtoexplainittoyou.ButIcanabsolutelyseewhyyou’rehesitanttotellRyle.Knowinghisex-wifeissharingabedwiththatblockofperfectionhastobeextremelyemasculating.”
Iraiseabrow.“Notasemasculatingasbeatingyourwifeshouldfeel.”I’malittleshockedwhenthewordscomeoutofmymouth,butIcan’ttakethemback.Idon’tthinkIneedto,though,becauseluckily,mybestfriendisn’taride-or-diesister.
Ratherthanbeoffended,Allysaagreeswithanod.“Touché,Lily.Touché.”ChapterNineteenAtlas
IhavenoideaiftwelveistooyoungtotakeanUber,butIdidn’twanttoleaveJoshatmyplacealoneafterschoolagain,soIhadonedrophimoffhereattherestaurant.Wediscussedearlierthisweekthatheshouldprobablyhelpoutupheretopayoffthedamagesheaccrued.
I’vebeenwatchingtheUberonamap,soImeethimoutfront.Whenhegetsoutofthecar,helookslikeacompletelydifferentkidfromtheoneImetseveraldaysago.He’swearingclothesthatfithim,Itookhimforahaircutyesterday,andhe’scarryingabackpackfullofbooksratherthancansofspraypaint.
IdoubtSuttonwouldevenrecognizehimifshesawhim.
“Howwasschool?”Todaywashisseconddayatthenewschool.Yesterdayhesaiditwasokaybutdidn’texpand.
“Itwasokay.”
Iguessthat’sasmuchasI’llgetfromatwelve-year-old.Iopenthedoortomyrestaurant,andJoshpausesbeforewalkingin.Helooksupatthebuildingandassessesit.“FunnyhowIsleptherefortwoweeksbutthisisthefirsttimeeverI’mwalkingthroughtheentrance.”
Ilaughandfollowhimintotherestaurant.I’mexcitedforhimtomeetTheo,eventhoughIhaven’thadachancetotellTheoaboutJoshyet.TheoarrivedafewminutesagoandcamethroughthebackrightasIwasheadingtowardthefronttofetchJosh.
Theohasn’tbeentotherestaurantsincelastweek,andIhaven’tbroughtJosharoundbecauseIhadtotakesometimeoffinordertoattempttogethislifestraightenedout.Whenwewalkthroughthedoubledoorsthatleadtothebusykitchen,Joshpausesinwonder.Hestareswide-eyedatthecommotion.I’msuretheplaceisalotdifferentduringthedaythanitwaswhenhe’dsleephereatnight.
Thedoortomyofficeisopen,whichmeansTheomustbeintheredoinghishomework.IleadJoshinthatdirection,andhefollowsmeaswemakeourwayintotheoffice.Theoisseatedatmydesk,reading.Helooksupatme,thenlooksatJosh.Heleansbackinthedeskchairandpullsinhischin.“Whatareyoudoinghere?”
“Whatareyoudoinghere?”JoshasksTheo.
They’reaskingeachotherthisliketheyknoweachother.Ididn’tthinktheywouldsincetheschoolsherearesobig,andtherearesomany.Iwasn’tevensurewhichschoolTheoattended.“Doyoutwoknoweachother?”
Theosaystome,“Yeah,he’sanewkidatmyschool.”ThentoJosh,hesays,“ButhowdoyouknowAtlas?”
Joshdropshisbackpackandnudgeshisheadtowardmeasheplopsontothesofa.“He’smybrother.”
TheolooksatmeandthenatJosh.Thenatme.“Whydidn’tIknowyouhadabrother?”
“Longstory,”Isay.
“Don’tyouthinkthat’ssomethingyourtherapistshouldknowabout?”
“Youhaven’tbeenhereallweek,”Isay.
“Ihadmathpracticeafterschooleveryday,”hesays.
“Mathpractice?Howdoesonepracticemath?”
Joshpipesin.“Wait.Theoisyourtherapist?”
Theoanswershimwith,“Yeah,buthedoesn’tpayme.Hey,didyougetTrentformath?”
“No,IgotSully,”Joshsays.
“Bummer.”Theolooksoveratme,andthenbackatJosh.Thenbackatme.“Howhaveyounevermentionedyouhaveabrother?”Theocan’tseemtogetpastthatfact,butIdon’thavetimetoexplainittohimrightnow.Thekitchenisrunningbehind.
“Joshcantellyou.Ihaveakitchentorun.”Ileavethemintheofficeandheadbacktohelpoutwithallthechitswe’rebehindon.
Ilikethattheyknoweachother,butIlikeitevenmorethatTheoseemedcomfortablearoundhim.IknowTheomuchbetterthanIknowmylittlebrother,andIfeellikeTheowouldhavehadsomesortofreactionifhewasdispleasedtoseeJosh.
Aboutanhourlater,thekitchenisfullystaffed,andIhaveafewminutestobreakfree.WhenIwalkintotheoffice,JoshandTheoarehavingwhatlookslikeanintensediscussionaboutamangaTheoisholding.“Sorrytointerrupt.”ImotionforJoshtofollowme.“Youfinishyourhomework?”
“Sure,”hesays.
“?‘Sure’?”Idon’tknowhimwellenoughtoknowwhatkindofanswersureis.“Isthatayes?Ano?Amostly?”
“Yes.”Hesighs,followingmeoutofthekitchen.“Mostly.I’llfinishittonight;mybrainhurts.”
Iintroducehimtoafewpeopleinthekitchen,finishingwithBrad.“Josh,thisisBrad.He’sTheo’sfather.”IgesturetowardJosh.“ThisisJosh,mylittlebrother.”Bradwrinkleshisforeheadinconfusionbutsaysnothing.“Joshhasadebttopayoff.Youhaveanyworkforhim?”
“Ihavedebt?”Joshasks,befuddled.
“Croutondebt.”
“Oh.That.”
Bradimmediatelyputstwoandtwotogether.Henodsslowly,andthensaystoJosh,“Youeverwasheddishes?”
JoshrollshiseyesandfollowsBradtothesink.
Ifeelbadmakinghimwork,butI’dfeelevenworseifthereweren’tanyconsequencestothethousandsofdollarshecostme.I’lllethimdodishesforanhourandthenwe’llcalliteven
ImostlyjustwantedhimoutofmyofficesoIcouldtalktoTheoabouthim.Ihaven’thadachancetotalktohimwithoutJoshintheroom.
Theoisatmydesk,stuffingpapersintohisbackpack.Isitonthecouch,preparedtoaskhimaboutJosh,butTheospeaksfirst.“YoukissLilyyet?”
Alwaysaboutme,neverabouthim.
“Notyet.”
“Whattheheck,Atlas?Iswear,youaresolamesometimes.”
“HowwelldoyouknowJosh?”Iask,changingthesubject.
“He’sonlybeeninschoolfortwodays,sonotsuperwell.Wehaveacoupleofclassestogether.”
“How’shedoinginthatschool?”
“Noclue.I’mnothisteacher.”
“Idon’tmeanhisgrades.Imeanhisinteractions.Ishemakingfriends?Ishenice?”
Theotiltshishead.“You’reaskingmeifyourbrotherisnice?Shouldn’tyouknow?”
“Ijustmethim.”
“Yeah,metoo,”Theosays.“Andyou’reaskingmealoadedquestion.Kidsaremeansometimes.Youknowthat.”
“AreyousayingJoshismean?”
“Therearedifferentkindsofmean.Joshisthebetterkindofmean.”
I’mnotfollowingatall.Theocanseethat,soheexpands.“He’slikeabullytothebullies,ifthatmakessense.”
Thisconversationismakingmeuncomfortable.“SoJoshis…kingofthebullies?Thatsoundsbad.”
Theorollshiseyes.“It’shardtoexplain.ButI’msureit’snotsurprisingthatI’mnotthemostpopularkidinthatschool.I’monthemathteam,andI’m…”Heshrugsoffthelastword.“ButIdon’thavetoworryaboutkidslikeJosh.Whenyouaskmeifhe’snice,Idon’tknowhowtoanswerthat,becauseheisn’tnice.Butheisn’tmean,either.Oratleastheisn’tmeantothenicepeople.”
Idon’tspeakupimmediatelybecauseI’mtryingtoabsorballthisinformation.ImightbemoreconfusedthanIwasbeforethisconversation.ButitdoesmakemefeelgoodtoknowthatTheoisn’tscaredofJosh.
“Anyway,”Theosays,zippinghisbackpack.“YouandLily.Diditfizzleoutalready?”
“No,we’rejustbusy.I’mgoingtoaweddingwithhertomorrow,though.”
“Youfinallygonnakissher?”
“Ifshewantsmeto.”
Theonods.“Sheprobablywillaslongasyourefrainfromsayinganythingcheesy,like,Lookattheships,let’slocklips!”
Igraboneofthecouchpillowsandthrowitathim.“I’mgettinganewtherapistwhodoesn’tbullyme.”ChapterTwentyLily
It’schallengingbeingthefloristforaweddingandaguest.I’vebeenrunningalldaytomakesuretheflowersatthevenueweresetupthewayLucywantedthem.Andontopofthat,we’reclosingearlyforthewedding,soSerenaneededhelpgettingallthedeliveriescompletedandontothetruck.
BythetimeAtlasmakesittomyapartmenttopickmeup,I’mnotevenclosetobeingready.Ijustreceivedatextfromhimaskingifheshouldcomeup.I’msurehe’scautiousbecauseeverythingissonewwithus,andhedoesn’tknowwhomightbehereifheweretoknockonthedoor,andifI’dwantthemtoknowAtlasismydatetothewedding.
Iwashesitanttoinvitehimtotheweddingforthatveryreason,butI’mconfidentnooneatLucy’sweddingwouldevenknowRyle.Werunindifferentcircles.AndontheoffchancetheydoknowRyle,anditmightgetbacktohimthatIwaswithsomeone,theriskisworththereward.I’vebeenlookingforwardtothisnightsinceAtlasagreedtocomewithme.
Comeup,I’mstillgettingready.
Atlasknocksatmydoormomentslater.WhenIopenthedoortolethimin,myeyesfeelliketheymightdoubleinsizeliketheydointhecartoons.“Wow.”I’mstaringathimalldressedupinhisblackdesignersuit.HestandsinthehallwayforlongerthanI’dnormallymakesomeonewaitbeforeinvitingtheminbecauseIforgetbasicthingslikehospitalitywhenI’minhispresence
He’sholdingabouquet,butitisn’tflowers.It’scookies
Hehandsthemtome.“Figuredyougetenoughflowers,”hesays.Heleansinandkissesmycheek,andIwanttotiltmyfacejustenoughsothathislipslandonmine,buthopefullyIwon’thavetobepatientformuchlonger.
“Theseareperfect,”Isay,motioningforhimtoenter.“Comein.Ineed,like,fifteenminutestogetdressed.”
I’vebeensobusytoday,Ihaven’tevenhadachancetoeat.Iopenoneofthecookiesandbiteintoit.Then,withamouthful,Isay,“I’msorryifthisistacky.I’mstarving.”Ipointtowardmybedroom.“YoucanwaitinmyroomwithmewhileIgetready;itwon’ttakemelong.”
Atlasislookingaround,takingeverythinginashefollowsmetomybedroom.
Mydressislaidoutonthebed,soIpickitupandwalktomybathroom.IleavethedoorcrackedabitsothatIcantalktohimwhileIchange.“Where’sJosh?”
“YourememberBradfromthatpokernight?”
“Ido,actually.”
“Hisson,Theo,isatmyhousewithJosh.Theygotoschooltogether.”
“How’shelikingschool?”
Ican’tseeAtlas,buthe’sclosertothebathroomwhenhesays,“Fine,Iguess.”Itsoundslikehe’srightnexttothedoor.Islipthedressovermyheadandopenthedoorfarther.Ichoseamerlot-coloredfitteddresswithspaghettistraps.Ithasamatchingshawl,butit’sstillhanginginthecloset.
AtlaslooksmeoverwhenIappearinthedoorway.Hiseyesjourneyupthelengthofme,butIdon’tgivehimtimetocomplimentme.
“Canyouzipmeup?”Igivehimmybackandliftmyhair,butIcanfeelhimhesitate.Ormaybehe’ssoakinginthemoment.
Acoupleofsecondslater,Ifeelhisfingerspressagainstmybackasheraisesthezipper.Itsendschillsrollingovermyskin.Whenhe’sfinished,Idropmyhairandturnandfacehim.“Ineedtoputonmakeup.”Istarttobackintothebathroom,butAtlasgripsmywaist.
“Comehere,”hesays,pullingmeuntilIsmushagainsthim.Headmiresmyfaceforacoupleofseconds,smilingappreciatively.Seductively.Likehe’sabouttokissme.“Thankyouforinvitingme.”
Ireturnthesmile.“Thankyouforcoming.Iknowyou’vehadabusyweek.”
Atlas’seyeslooktired.Theusualglimmerhasdulledalittle,likehe’sbeenstressedandcoulduseanightofrelaxation.Ican’thelpbuttouchhischeekwhenIsay,“WecanUberthereifyouwant.Youseemlikeyoucoulduseadrink.”
Atlastouchesmyhandthat’scuppinghischeek.Hetiltshisfacesothathecankisstheinsideofmypalm.Thenhepullsmyhandawayandthreadshisfingersthroughit.Heopenshismouthtosaysomethingelse,butIseeitthesecondhiseyesgetaglimpseofmytattoo.
Atlashasneverseenthehearttattooonmyshoulder—theoneIgotbecausehealwaysusedtokissmethere.Hetouchesitsoftlywithhisfingers,tracingtheshapeofit.Hiseyesflickeruptomine.“Whendidyougetthis?”
Myvoicecatches,andI’mforcedtoclearmythroat.“Incollege.”I’vethoughtaboutthismomentalot—whathewouldsayifheeversawit,howitwouldmakehimfeel.
Hequietlyregardsmeandthenlooksatthetattooagain.He’ssoclose,Icanfeelhisbreathtricklingacrossmycollarbone.“Why’dyougetit?”
Igotitforsomanyreasons,butIchoosetosaythemostobviousone.“Because.Imissedyou.”
Iwaitforhimtolowerhisheadandpressakisstherelikehe’sdonesomanytimesbefore.Iwaitforhimtokissme.Topresshismouthtomineinasilentthank-you.
Atlasdoesn’tdoanyofthosethings.Hecontinuesstaringatthetattooforabeat,butthenhereleaseshisholdonmeandturnsaway.Hisvoiceisdetachedwhenhesays,“Youshouldprobablyfinishgettingreadyorwe’llbelate.”Hetakesacoupleofstepstowardmybedroomdoor,andthen,withoutlookingback,hesays,“I’llwaitinthelivingroom.”
IfeellikeIjustgotthebreathknockedoutofme.
Hisentiredemeanorchanged.Itwasn’tatallwhatIexpectedfromhim.Istandfrozeninplaceforafewdepressingseconds,butthenIforcemyselftofinishgettingready.MaybeI’mmisreadinghisreactionanditwasn’tanegativeone.Maybehelikeditsomuch,heneededalonetimetoprocess.
Whateverthereasonisforhisunexpectedreaction,IfightbackthestingoftearstheentiretimeI’mtryingtodomymakeup.Ican’thelpit.Ithinkmyfeelingsmightbehurt,andthat’snotsomethingIexpectedtohappentonightatall.
Igotomyclosetandfindmyshoesandgrabmyshawl,andIhalfexpectAtlastobegonewhenIwalkoutofmybedroom,buthe’sstillhere.He’sstandingbythewallinthehallwaylookingatpicturesofEmmy.Whenhehearsmeexitthebedroom,helooksinmydirection,andthenfull-onturnstofaceme.
“Wow.”HelooksgenuinelypleasedwhenI’mbackinhispresence,sothewhiplashisalittleconfusing.“You’rebeautiful,Lily.”
Iappreciatehiscompliment,butIcan’tmovepastwhatjusthappened.Andifthere’sonethingI’velearnedfromtherelationshipIwasinbeforeandtherelationshipIwitnessedbetweenmyparents,it’sthatIrefusetobesomeonewhobrusheseverythingunderarug.Idon’tevenwanttheretobearug.
“Whydidmytattooupsetyou?”
Myquestioncatcheshimoffguard.Hefidgetswithhistie,andseemstobelookingforanexcuse,butnothingcomestohim,andthehallwayremainssilent,otherthanaragged,slowbreathhepullsin.“Itwasn’tthetattoo.”
“Whatisit?Whyareyoumadatme?”
“I’mnotmadatyou,Lily.”Hesaysthatconvincingly,buthe’snotthesameafterseeingthetattoo,andIdon’twantustostartoutwithlies.Apparently,hedoesn’t,either,becauseIcanseehimworkingthroughwhattosaytomenext.Helooksuncomfortable,likehedoesn’twanttohavethisconversation,oratleasthedoesn’twanttohaveitrightnow.
Heshoveshishandsinthepocketsofhispantsandsighs.“ThatnightItookyoutotheemergencyroom…theybandagedupyourshoulderwhilewewerethere.”Hisvoicesoundspained,butwhenhemakeseyecontactwithme,thatpainedsoundisnothingcomparedtotheturmoilinhisexpression.“Iheardyoutellthenursehebityou,butIwasn’tcloseenoughtoseethat…”Atlaspausesmidsentenceandswallowshard.“Iwasn’tcloseenoughtoseethatyouhadthetattoo,andthathebit…”Atlasstopsspeakingagain.He’ssoupset,hecan’tevenfinishhissentence.Hejustmovesontoanotherone.“Isthatwhyhedidit?Becausehereadyourjournalsandknewyougotthetattooforme?”
Mykneesfeelshaky.
IcanseewhyAtlasdidn’twanttohavethisconversation.It’stoomuchforacasualchatwhilewe’reonourwayoutthedoor.Ipressahandflatagainstmynervousstomach,preparedtoanswerhim,butit’shardtotalkabout.Especiallyknowinghowupsetit’smakingAtlasonmybehalf.
Idon’twanttohurthim,butIalsodon’twanttolietohim,orprotectRyleinanyway.BecauseAtlasisright.That’sexactlywhyRyledidwhathedid,andIhatethatAtlaswillnowforeverpairmytattoowiththatawfulmemory.
Mylackofresponseisenoughconfirmationforhim.Hewincesandturnsawayfromme.Icanseethedeepbreathheforceshimselftotakeinordertoremaincalm.Helookslikehewantstoexplode,butRyleisn’thereforhimtoexplodeon.
Atlasissoangry,butthisisanangerI’mnotafraidof.
Irealizethesignificanceofthismoment.I’malonewithanangrymaninmyapartment,butI’mnotinfearformylife,becauseheisn’tangryatme.He’sangryatthepersonwhohurtme.It’saprotectiveanger,andthere’saworldofdifferencebetweenmyreactionstoRyle’sangerversusmyreactiontoAtlas’sanger.
WhenAtlasturnstomeagain,Icanseethehardsetofhisjawandtheveinsinhisneckwhenhesays,“HowamIsupposedtobecivilaroundhim,Lily?”There’sguiltinhisvoicewhenhewhispers,“Ishouldhavebeenthereforyou.Ishouldhavedonemore.”
Icanunderstandtheanger,butAtlashasabsolutelynothingtofeelguiltyfor.Iwasn’tatapointinmylifewhereAtlascouldhavesaidordoneanythingtochangemyviewsofRyle.Ihadtogettothatpointonmyown.
IwalkclosertoAtlasandpressmybackintothewallacrossfromhim.Hedoesthesameontheoppositewalluntilwe’refacingeachother.He’sworkingthroughalotofemotionsrightnow,andIwanttogivehimthespacetodothat.ButIalsohavealottosayabouttheguiltAtlasisholdingonto.
“ThefirsttimeRylehitme,itwasbecauseIlaughedathim.Iwastipsy,andIthoughtsomethingwasfunnythatwasn’tfunny,andhebackhandedme.”
Atlashastobreakeyecontactafterhearingmesaythat.Idon’tknowifhewantsthesedetails,butI’vebeenwantingtosayallthistohimforalongtime.Heremainsstillagainstthewall,butitlookslikeit’stakingeverythinginhimnottorunstraighttowhereverRyleisrightnow.Hiseyesaresharpwhenhelooksbackatme,waitingformetofinish.
“Thesecondtime,hepushedmedownthestairs.Thatargumentstartedbecausehefoundyournumberhiddeninmyphonecase.Andwhenhebitmeonmyshoulder…You’reright.Itwasbecausehereadthejournalsandfoundoutmytattoowasbecauseofyou,andthatthemagnetIkeptonmyrefrigeratorwasfromyou.”Ilookdownbrieflybecauseit’shardseeinghowmuchthisisaffectinghim.“IusedtothinkthethingsIdidsomehowwarrantedhisreactions.LikemaybeifIwouldn’thavelaughed,hewouldn’thavehitme.MaybeifIdidn’thaveyournumberinmyphone,hewouldn’thavegottenangryenoughtopushmedownaflightofstairs.”
Atlasisn’tevenlookingatmeanymore.Hisheadisleanedbackagainstthewall,andhe’sstaringattheceiling,takingeverythingin,frozeninhisanger.
“EverytimeIwouldstarttotakeontheguiltandjustifyRyle’sactions,Iwouldthinkaboutyou.IwouldaskmyselfwhatyourreactionwouldhavebeencomparedtoRyle’s.BecauseIknowitwouldhavebeendifferent.IfIwouldhavelaughedatyouunderthesamecircumstancesthatIlaughedatRyle,youwouldhavelaughedwithme.Youneverwouldhavebackhandedme.Andifanymanonthisplanetgavemetheirphonenumberasawaytoprotectmefromsomeonetheyfearedwasdangerous,youwouldappreciatethemforthat.Youwouldn’thavepushedmedownaflightofstairs.AndifthejournalsIletyoureadwereaboutanotherboyinhighschoolbesidesyou,youwouldhaveteasedme.Youprobablywouldhavehighlightedlinesyouthoughtwerecheesyandlaughedaboutthemwithme.”
IstopspeakinguntilAtlasbringshisfocusbacktomine,andthenIfinish.“EverytimeIwoulddoubtmyselfandthinkthatwhatRyledidtomewasinanywaydeserved,allIhadtodowasthinkaboutyou,Atlas.Ithinkabouthowdifferentlyeachscenariowouldhavebeenifitwereyou,andthathelpedmerememberthatnoneofitwasmyfault.You’reabigpartofthereasonIgotthroughit,eventhoughyouweren’tthere.”
AtlassilentlysoaksupeverythingI’vesaidformaybefiveseconds,butthenheclosesthedistancebetweenusandkissesme.Finally.Finally.
Hisrighthandcurlsaroundmywaistashetugsmeagainsthim,histongueslidinggentlyandwarmlyagainstmylips,coaxinghiswaypastthem.Hislefthandsnakesitswaythroughmyhairuntilhe’smoldinghispalmtothebackofmyhead.Aspoolofyearningbeginstounravelinsideme.
Hedoesn’tkissmewithanytrepidation.Hismouthmeetsminewithconfidence,andminerespondstohiswithrelief.Ipullathim,wantinghiswarmthtosinkintome.Hismouthandhistoucharefamiliarsincewe’vedonethisdancebefore,butcompletelynewatthesametimebecausethiskissismadeupofawholenewsetofingredients.Ourfirstkisswasmadeoffearandyouthfulinexperience.
Thiskissishope.It’scomfortandsafetyandstability.It’severythingI’vebeenmissinginmyadultlife,andIamsohappyAtlasandIhaveeachotheragain,Icouldcry.ChapterTwenty-OneAtlas
Therehavebeenalotofthingsinmylifethathavemademeangry,butnothingfilledmewithragelikeseeingLily’stattooandthefadedscarsthatcircleditintheshapeofabitemark.
Howanymancandothattoawoman,I’llneverunderstand.Howanyhumancandothattoahumanthey’resupposedtoloveandwanttoprotect,Iwillneverunderstand.
ButwhatIdounderstandisthatLilydeservesbetter.AndIgettobetheonetogiveherbetter.Startingwiththiskissthatwecan’tseemtostop.Everytimewepausetolookateachother,wegorightbacktokissinglikewehavetomakeupforallthelosttimeinthisonekiss.
ItrailkissesdownherjawuntilImeethercollarbone.I’vealwayslovedkissingherthere,butuntilIreadherjournal,Ididn’tknowshewasawareofhowmuchIlovedkissingherthere.Ipressmylipstohertattoo,determinedtomakesuresheremembersthegoodpartsofusinallthefuturekissesI’mgoingtogiveherinthisspot.Ifittakesamillionkissesforhernottothinkaboutthescarsthatsurroundherhearttattoo,thenI’llkissherthereamillionandonetimes.
Ipresskissesupherneck,thenherjaw.WhenI’mlookingatheragain,IslidetheshoulderstrapofherdressbackinplacebecauseasmuchasIcouldstayrighthereforhours,I’msupposedtobetakinghertoawedding.“Weshouldgo,”Iwhisper.
Shenods,butIkissheragain.Ican’thelpit.I’vebeenwaitingforthismomentsinceIwasateenager.
Ican’treallysayhowtheweddingwentbecauseIwasmorefocusedonLilythananythingelse.Ididn’tknowanyonethere,andafterfinallykissingLilytonight,itwashardtofocusonanythingotherthanwantingittohappenagain.IcouldtellLilycravedtobealonewithmeasmuchasIwantedtobealonewithher.Beingforcedtopatientlysitnexttoherafterwhathappenedbetweenusinherhallwaywastorture.
AssoonaswegottothereceptionandLilysawhowcrowdeditwas,shewasrelieved.ShesaidLucywouldneverknowifweleftearly,andIdon’tevenknowLucy,soIwasn’tabouttoarguewithherwhen,afterlessthananhourofmingling,shegrabbedmyhandandweslippedout.
We’vejustpulledbackuptoLily’sapartmentcomplex,andwhileI’malmostpositiveshewantsmetogoupstairswithher,I’mnotgoingtoassume.Iopenherdoorandwaitforhertoputhershoesbackon.Shetookthemoffinthecarbecausetheywerehurtingherfeet,buttheylookdifficulttofasten.Therearestrings,andLilyisstrugglingwiththeminthepassengerseat.Idoubtshewantstowalkbarefootontheparkinggaragefloor,though.
“Icancarryyouonmyback.”
SheglancesupatmeandlaughslikeI’mjoking.“Youwanttogivemeapiggybackride?”
“Yeah,grabyourshoes.”
Shestaresatmeforamoment,butthenshegrinslikeshe’sexcited.Iturnaroundandshe’sstilllaughingwhenshewrapsherarmsaroundmyneck.IhelpherhoistherselfontomybackandthenIkickthecardoorshut.
Whenwemakeittoherapartment,Ileanforwardsoshecanuseherkeytounlockherdoor.Oncewe’reinside,she’slaughingwhenIlowerhertoherfeet.Iturnaroundjustasshedropshershoesandstartstokissmeagain.
Pickinguprightwhereweleftoff,Iguess.
“Whattimedoyouneedtobehome?”sheasks.
“ItoldJoshtenoreleven.”Ilookattheclockandit’sjustafterten.“ShouldIcallhimandtellhimImightbelate?”
Lilynods.“You’redefinitelygonnabelate.CallhimandI’llmakeusdrinks.”Shewalkstothekitchen,soItakeoutmyphoneandcallJosh.Ivideo-chathimsoIcanmakesurehe’snotthrowingapartyatmyhouse.IdoubtTheowouldlethim,butI’mnottakinganychanceswitheitherofthosetwo.
WhenJoshanswersthevideocall,thephoneislyingonthefloor.IcanseehischinandthelightfromtheTV.He’sholdingacontroller.“We’reinthemiddleofatournament,”hesays.
“Justcheckingin.Everythingokay?”
“It’sfine!”IhearTheoyell.
Joshstartsshakinghisremote,hittingbuttons,butthenheyells,“Shit!”Hetossesthecontrollerasideandpicksupthephone,bringingitclosertohisface.“Welost.”
Theoappearsbehindhim.“Thatdoesn’tlooklikeawedding.Whereareyou?”
Idon’tanswerhim.“Imightbealittlelatetonight.”
“Oh,areyouatLily’s?”Theosays,movingclosertothephonescreen.He’sgrinning.“Didyoufinallykissher?Canshehearme?Whatlinedidyouusetogethertoinviteyouin?Lily!Wewatchedpeoplewed,let’shopinto—”
Iimmediatelyendthecallbeforehefinishesthatrhyme,butLilyheardthatwholeconversation.She’sstandingafewfeetawayfromme,holdingtwoglassesofwine.Herheadistiltedinconfusion.“Whowasthat?”
“Theo.”
“Howoldishe?”
“Twelve.”
“Youtalktoatwelve-year-oldaboutus?”
Sheseemsamusedbythis.Itakeaglassofwinefromher,andrightbeforeIsipit,Isay,“He’smytherapist.WemeeteveryThursdayatfour.”
Shelaughs.“Yourtherapistisinjuniorhigh?”
“Yeah,buthe’sabouttogetfired.”IwrapmyhandaroundLily’swaistandpullhertome.WhenIkissher,shetastesliketheredwineshepoured.Ikissherdeepertogetmoreofthattaste.Moreofher.
Whenshepullsback,shesays,“Thisisweird.”
Idon’tknowwhatshe’sreferringtoasweird.Ihopeshe’snotreferringtous,becauseweirdisthelastwordI’dusetodescribethis.“What’sweird?”
“Havingyouhere.Nothavingakidhere.I’mnotusedtofreetime,or…guytime.”Shetakesanothersipofherwineandthenseparatesfromme.Shesetsherwineglassonthecounterandwalkstowardherbedroom.“Comeon,let’stakeadvantageofit.”
Ifollowherleadentirelytooquickly.ChapterTwenty-TwoLily
I’mtryingtoactconfidentaboutthis,butassoonasIwalkintomybedroom,Iloseeverybitoftheconfidencethatgotmeinhere.
It’sjustthatit’sbeensolongsinceI’vebeenwithanyone.ProbablysincerightaftergettingpregnantwithEmmy.Ihaven’thadsexpostbaby,andIhaven’thadsexwithAtlassinceIwassixteen,andbothofthesethoughtsstartswirlingtogethertocreatethismonstrousinvasive-thoughttornadoinmymind.
I’mstandinginthemiddleofmybedroomwhenAtlasappearsinthedoorwayafewsecondslater.Iputmyhandsonmyhipsandjust…standhere.He’sstaringatme.IfeellikeI’msupposedtomakethenextmovesinceI’mtheonewhojustinvitedhimintomybedroom
“Idon’tknowwhattodonext,”Iadmit.“It’sbeenawhile.”
Atlaslaughs.Thenhesaunterstowardthebedbecauseofcoursehecan’tjustwalkinanunattractiveway.Everymovehemakesissexy.Himremovinghissuitjacketrightnowissexy.Hetossesitontomydresserandthenkicksoffhisshoes.God,eventhatwassexy.Thenhesitsdownonmybed.
“Let’stalk.”Heleansagainstmyheadboardandthencrosseshisankles.Helooksveryrelaxed.Andsexy.
Ican’timaginelyingdownonthatbedinthisdress.Itwouldbeuncomfortable,andprobablynotverymuchfuntotrytoremoveifwegettothatpoint.“Letmechangeclothesfirst.”Iwalkintomyclosetandclosethedoor.
Iturnonthelight,butnothinghappens.Thebulbisout.Shit.Ican’tgetdressedinthedark.Idon’thavemyphoneonme,soIcan’tusetheflashlightapptohelp.
Idomybest,butittakesaminutetogetthezipperdown.WhenIfinallydo,insteadofsteppingoutofthedress,forsomereasonIpullthedressovermyhead,andofcourseitsnagsinmyhair.Itrytosetmyhairfree,butthedressisheavy,andit’stakingforeverinthedark,andIcan’twalkouttofindamirrorbecauseAtlasisoutthere.Ikeeptryingtountangleit.Afterafewdefeatingminutes,Atlasfinallytapsonthedoor.
“Youokayinthere?”
“No.I’mstuck.”
“CanIopenthedoor?”
I’mstandinginmybraandpantieswithadresshalfwayovermyhead,butthisiswhatIdeserve.Thisisclosetkarma.“Okay,butI’mnotreallydressed.”
IhearAtlaslaugh,butwhenheopensthedoorandseesmysituation,heimmediatelyspringsintoactionbyflickingthelightswitch.Itdoesnothing,ofcourse.
“Thebulbisout.”
Hemovestowardmetoinspectmysituation.“Whathappened?”
“Myhairisstuck.”
AtlaspullsouthisphoneandusesthelighttohelphimseewhatI’mtangledon.Hetugsmyhairandmydressinoppositedirections,andthen,magically,mydressisonthefloor.
Ismoothoutmyhair.“Thankyou.”Ifoldmyarmsovermyself.“Thisisembarrassing.”
ThelightfromAtlas’sphoneisstillon,sohecanseethatI’mstandinginmybraandpanties.Heturnsoffhisphonelight,buttheclosetdoorisopen,andthere’salamponinthebedroom,soI’mstillveryvisibletohim.
There’samomentofhesitationonbothourparts.Hecan’ttellifheshouldwalkawayandletmefinishgettingdressed,andIcan’ttellifIwanthimto.
Andthensuddenlywe’rekissing.
Itjusthappened,asifwemovedtowardeachotheratthesametime.Oneofhishandsslipsaroundtothebackofmyhead,andtheothergoesdirectlytomylowerback,solowthathisfingersareskimmingovermypanties.
Iwrapbothmyarmsaroundhisneckandpullhimtomesohard,westumbleintoalineofclothes.Atlasrightsusagain,butIcanfeelhissmileinhiskiss.Hepullsfarenoughawayfrommymouthsothathecanspeak.“Whatisitwithyouandclosets?”Thenhekissesmeagain.
Wemakeoutintheclosetforafewminutes,andit’severythingIrememberaboutallthetimesweusedtosneakmake-outsessionswhenwewereyounger.Thedesire,thethrill,thenewnessofdoingthingsyou’veneverdone,orinthiscase,haven’tdoneinalongtime.
ItremindsmeofhowmuchIlovedbeinginabedwithhim.Whetherwewerekissingortalkingordoingotherthings,thememoriesImadewithhiminmybedroomaresomeofmyabsolutefavoritememories.He’skissingmyneckwhenIwhisper,“Takemetomybed.”
Hedoesn’thesitate.Heslideshishandsdownmyassandgripsmythighs,hoistingmeup.Hecarriesmeoutofthecloset,acrossthebedroom,andthenplantsmeontomymattresswhereheproceedstoclimbontopofme.
Thefeelofhimagainstmeonlymakesmemoredesperateforhim,buthetreatsthislikeheusedtotreatourmake-outsessions.Withpatienceandappreciation—likemakingoutisenough,andthatit’saprivilegejusttobekissingme.
Idon’tknowwherehefindsthatpatience,becauseIkindofwanthimtotakeoffhisclothesandtreatmelikethisishisonlychancetohaveme.
Maybehewouldifhethoughtthat—butwebothknowthisisjustthebeginning.He’stakingitslowbecauseIaskedhimto.I’msureifIaskedhimtogofaster,hewoulddothat,too.
ConsiderateAtlas.
Weeventuallycometoapointwherewehavetomakeadecision.Ihaveacondominmydrawer,andheprobablyhasalittletimebeforeheneedstoleave,butwhenwestopkissinglongenoughtolookateachother,heshakeshishead.We’rebothbreathingheavily,andalittlewornoutfrombeingsoworkedupforsolong,soherollsoffmeandfallsontohisback.
He’sstilldressed.I’mstillinmybraandunderwear.Wenevergotfurtherthanthat.
“AsmuchasIwantto,”hebreathes,“Idon’twanttohavetoleaverightafter.”Herollsontohissideandplacesahandonmystomach.He’slookingdownatmewitheyesthatareunsatisfied,likehewantstosay,Nevermind,andravishme.
Isighandclosemyeyes.“SometimesIhateresponsibility.”
Atlaslaughs,andthenIfeelhimmovecloser.Hekissesthecornerofmymouthandsays,“Idon’thavetoleaveyet.”Whenhesaysthat,hisindexfingerslipsbeneaththehemofmypanties,rightbelowmybellybutton.Hedragsitbackandforth,waitingforareaction
Iliftmyhips,hopingthat’senoughofaconversation.
Everypartofmybodyfeelslikeit’sonfirewhenheslipstwomorefingersintomyunderwear.Then,whenhisentirehandmakesthemove,I’magoner.Ireleaseatremblingbreathandgripthesheetatmysides,archingmybackandmyhipsupandagainsthishand.
Hebringshismouthtomine,buthedoesn’tkissme.Heremainsclosetomylips,usingthemovementofmyhipsandthesoundsofmymoanstoguidehimtowardthefinish.
He’sextremelyintuitive.Itdoesn’ttakemelongatallbeforeI’mtensingaroundhishand,pullinghisneckdownsothatIcankisshimthroughtheendofit.
Whenit’sover,heslideshishandoutofmypantiesbutthencupsmethere,leavinghishandovermewhileIrecover.MychestisheavingasItrytocatchmybreath.
Atlasisbreathingheavily,too,butIneedaminutetorecoverbeforeIcandoanythingaboutit.
“Lily.”Atlaskissesmegentlyonthecheek.“Ithinkyou…”Hepauses,soIopenmyeyesandlookathim.Heshiftshiseyestomybreasts,andthenbackatmyface.
ThenhepullsathiswhiteshirtandlooksdownatitandIseethere’ssomekindofstainonit.
Oh,shit.
Ilookdownatmybraandit’ssoakingwet.OhmyGod.Breastmilk.Everywhere.Iamsuchanidiot.
Atlasdoesn’tseematallfazedbyit.Herollsoffthebedandsays,“I’llgiveyousomeprivacy.”
I’malittlemortifiedthatmybraiscoveredinbreastmilk,soIgrabthesheetandcovermychestwithitbeforemeetingAtlasatthefootofmybed.Itkindofkilledthemood.“Areyouleaving?”
“Ofcoursenot.”Hekissesmeandthenleavestheroomasifit’scompletelynormalforamantomakeoutwithawomanwhoisbreastfeedingababythatisn’tevenhis.Ithastobeatleastalittleawkwardforhim,buthecoversitwell.
Ispendthenextseveralminutesinthebathroompumping,andthenItakeaquickten-secondshower.IthrowonanoversizedT-shirtandsomepajamashortsbeforeheadingbackintomylivingroom.
Atlasissittingonmycouch,waitingpatientlywithhisphoneinhishand.Whenhehearsmeenterthelivingroom,heglancesupatmeandlooksmeupanddown.I’mstillalittleembarrassed,sowhenIsitnexttohim,Idon’tsitrightnexttohim.Isit,like,twofeetfromhim,andthenImutter,“Sorryaboutthat.”
“Lily.”Hecansensemyembarrassment,sohereachesforme.“Comehere.”HesettlesagainstthecouchandpullsmylegoverhissothatI’mstraddlinghim.Heslideshishandsupmythighs,tomywaist,andletshisheadfalllazilyagainstthecouch.“Everythingabouttonightwasperfect.Don’tyoudareapologize.”
Irollmyeyes.“You’rebeingnice.Igotbreastmilkonyou.”
Atlasslidesahandaroundthebackofmyneckandpullsmetohim.“Yeah,whileweweremakingout.Trustme,Idon’tmindonebit.”Hekissesmeafterthat,whichmightbeamistakebecauseherewegoagain
It’sgoingtobeimpossibleforhimtoleaveatthisrate.Iprobablyshouldhaveputonanotherbra,butIhonestlythoughtIwasgoingtothelivingroomtotellhimgoodbye.Ididn’tknowweweregoingtopickupwhereweleftoffonthecouch,butIdon’tminditatall.
We’resituatedsoperfectly,wedon’tevenhavetoadjusttogetthemostoutofthisposition.Hegroansduringourkiss,andthatjusturgesmeonevenmore.
OneofAtlas’shandsslidesupthebackofmyshirt,andIcanfeelhimhesitatewhenhishandnevermeetsabra.Hepausesourkissandlooksmeintheeye.I’mstillmovingagainsthim,andthewayhe’slookingatmeispiercingmycore.Hestartstomovehishandfrommybackaroundtomybreast.Whenhecupsitinhishand,thatseemstoflipaswitchinhim.Inbothofus.
OurkissturnsfeverishasIstarttounbuttonhisshirt.Nothingelseissaid.Wejustfranticallyremoveeverypieceofclothingleftbetweenus,andwedon’tevenbothermovingtothebedroom.Webarelypausethekissingwhenhereachesforhiswalletandpullsoutacondomandputsiton.
Andthen,asifit’sthemostnaturalthingintheworld,Atlaskissesmewhilehepushesintome,andIfeeleverybitaslovedasIdidthefirsttimethishappenedbetweenus.Therearesomanyfeelingsthatcomeoutinthismoment,I’mnotsureI’veeverexperiencedanythingsochaoticallybeautifulwhenwe’refinallyconnected.
Hesighsagainstmyneck,likethesamefeelingsarerunningthroughhim.Hestartstomoveinandout,slowly,kissingmegentlythewholetime.Butseveralminuteslater,thekissesarefranticandwe’rebothsweaty,andIamsocompletelyandwhollyinthemoment,nothingelsematterstomeotherthanthefactthatwe’retogetheragain,andit’sright.Everythingaboutthisissoright.
I’mexactlywhereIbelong,beinglovedbyAtlasCorrigan.ChapterTwenty-ThreeAtlas
Ishoulddefinitelygohome,butitissohardtocrawloutofthisbedafterthelastcoupleofhourswithher.Oncethecouchhappened,thentheshowerhappened.Nowwe’rebothtootiredtodoanythingotherthantalk.
She’slyingonherback,herarmsfoldedbeneathherhead.She’sstaringatme,listeningintentlyasItellheraboutmymeetingwithalawyeryesterday.“HesaysIdidtherightthingbytakinghimtothehospital.TheywerelegallyobligatedtonotifyChildProtectiveServices.I’mnotsurehowIfeelaboutthat,though.Itputsthepowerinthehandsofthestate,andwhatiftheydon’tthinkI’mthebestplaceforhim?”
“Whywouldn’tthey?”
“Iworkalot.I’mnotmarried,soJoshwillbealonesomeofthetime.AndIhavenoexperienceraisingkids.TheymightthinkTimisabetterfitsincehe’sthebiologicalfather.Theycouldevengivehimbacktomymother;I’mnotevensurewhatshedidisenoughtohavehimremovedfromhercustody.”
Lilyleanstowardmeandpressesakissagainstmyforearm.“I’mgoingtotellyouwhatyoutoldmethefirsttimeyouFaceTimedme.Yousaid,‘You’restressingoverthingsthathaven’tevenhappenedyet.’?”
Ifoldmylipstogethermomentarily.“Ididsaythat.”
“Youdid,”shesays.Shetucksherselfagainstme,wrappingalegovermythigh.“It’llworkout,Atlas.You’rethebestthingforhim,andanyonewhohasvestedinterestwillseethat.Ipromise.”
Ifoldmyselfaroundher,fittingherheadundermychin.It’sincrediblehowmuchwe’vebothchangedphysicallysincewewereteens,butwesomehowstillfittogetherjustasperfectlyaswedidbackthen.
“I’vebeenwantingtoaskyousomething,”shesays,pullingbackfarenoughtolookatme.“Rememberourfirsttime?Whathappenedafterthatnight?Aftermyfatherhurtyou.”
I’mnotsurprisedshe’sthinkingaboutthat,becauseI’vethoughtaboutitaswelltonight.Thisisthefirsttimewe’vebeenintimatesincethatnightthatendedsoterribly,soit’shardnottocomparethem.
Thatwaswhatherverylastjournalentrywasabout.Itwaspainfultoread,seeinghowmuchshewashurting.Iwishmorethananythingitcouldhaveendedbetterthanitdid.
“Idon’trememberalotfromthatnight,”Iadmit.“Iwokeupinthehospitalthenextday,confused.Iknewyourfatherwastheonewhohadhurtme,Irememberedthatmuch,butIhadnoideaifhedidtoyouwhathehaddonetome.Ihitthecallbuttonseveraltimes,andwhennoonecametomyroom,Isomehowhobbledintothehallwaywithabrokenankle.Iwasfrantic,askingifyouwereokay,butthepoornursehadnoideawhatIwastalkingabout.”
LilytightenshergriparoundmeasItalk.
“Shefinallycalmedmedownenoughtogetyourinformationfromme,andthenshecamebacktoletmeknowthatIwastheonlyonebroughtinwithinjuries.SheaskedmeifyourfatherwasAndrewBloom.Itoldheryes,andItoldherIwantedtopresscharges.WhenIaskedherifshecouldhaveanofficercometotheroom,shelookedatmesympathetically.Irememberherexactwords.Shesaid,‘Thelawisonhisside,honey.Nooneturnshimin.Notevenhiswife.’?”
Lilyexhalesagainstmychest,soIpauseandpressakissagainstthetopofherhead.“Thenwhat?”shewhispers.
“Ididitanyway,”Isay.“IknewifIdidn’treporthim,yourmotherwouldnevergetoutofthatsituation.Imadethenursecontactanofficer,andwhenonefinallyarrivedthatafternoon,hewasn’ttheretolistentomystatement.Hewastheretomakeitclearthatifanyonewasgoingtobearrested,itwouldn’tbeyourfather.Hesaidyourfathercouldhavemearrestedforbreakingintohousesandforcingmyselfonhisdaughter.Thoseweretheofficer’sexactwords,liketherelationshipyouandIhadwassomethingcriminal.Ifeltguiltyaboutthatforyears.”
Lilylooksupatmeandplacesahandonmycheek.“What?Atlas,we’reonlytwoandahalfyearsapart.Youdidabsolutelynothingwrong.”
Iappreciatethatshesaysthat,butitdoesn’tchangethefactthatIfeltguiltyforbringingstressintoherlife.ButIalsofeltguiltyforleavingheronceIdidbringstressintoherlife.“Idon’tknowthatanychoiceImadebackthenwouldhavefeltright.Ididn’twanttostayandputyouinmoredangerbyshowingupatyourhouseagain.AndIdidn’twanttobearrestedbecausethenIwouldn’thavebeenabletogotothemilitary.Ithoughtthebestthingwouldbetoputspacebetweenus,andthensomedayIwouldcontactyoudownthelineandseeifyoueverstillthoughtofmelikeIthoughtofyou.”
“Everyday,”shewhispers.“Ithoughtofyoueverysingleday.”
Irunmyhandoverherbackforawhile,andthenIstrokemyfingersthroughherhair,wonderinghowintheworldshecanmakemefeelsowholewhenIhadnoideaIwasonlyhalfofmyselfwithouther.
OfcourseI’vemissedheralltheseyears,andifIcouldhavesnappedmyfingersandbroughtherbackintomylife,Iwouldhaveinaheartbeat.Butwehadbuiltliveswithouteachother,herwithRyleandmewithmycareer,andIassumedthatwasourfate.Ihadgrownusedtonotlivinglifewithher.Butnowthatshe’sback,Idon’tknowthatIcouldeverfeelwholeagainwithouther.Especiallyaftertonight.
“Lily,”Iwhisper.
Shedoesn’trespond.Ipullbackalittleandcanseethathereyesareclosed,andherarmhasgonelimparoundme.I’mscaredifImove,I’llwakeherup.ButItoldJoshI’donlybeacoupleofhourslaterthanthetimeIinitiallygavehim,andI’matthreehoursnow.I’mnotevensureI’mallowedtoleavetwelve-year-oldsbythemselves.
BradwasokaywithitwhenIaskediftheywerefinebythemselves,andifhedoesn’tevenallowTheotohaveaphone,Idoubthe’dletmeleavethemalonewhileIwentonadateunlessBradhasleftTheoalonebefore.
MaybeIshouldgooglewhattheagelimitisinBostonforakidtostaybythemselves.
I’moverthinkingthis.Ofcourse,they’refine.Neitherofthemhascalledortextedwithanykindofemergency,andtwelve-year-oldsevenbabysitotherkidssometimes.
IthinkI’mfine,butIstillneedtogethome.Idon’tknowJoshwellenoughyettobeconvincedheisn’tthrowingaragerinmyhouserightnow.IslowlyremovemyarmfrombeneathLily’sheadandeaseoutofherbed.IdressasquietlyasIcan,andthenIgoinsearchofapenandpaper.Idon’twanttowakeherup,butIdon’twanttoleavewithoutsayinganything.Especiallyafterthenightwehad.
Ifindanotebookandapeninherkitchendrawer,soIsitatthetabletowriteheraletter.WhenIfinish,ItakeitbacktoherbedroomandIsetthenoteonthepillownexttoher.ThenIkisshergoodnight.ChapterTwenty-FourLily
There’sapoundinginmyhead.
Andoutsidemyhead.
Iliftmyfaceoffmypillowandfeeldroolonmychin.Iwipeitawaywiththecornerofmypillowcase.IsitupandseethatAtlasleftanotebesideme.Igrabforit,butthenheartheknockagain,soItuckthenoteundermypillowforlaterandforcemyselftoclearspaceinmyfoggybraintomakeroomforwhat’shappeninginthismoment.
Emmyisatmymother’s.
IjusthadthebestnightofsleepI’vehadintwoyears.
Someoneisatmydoor.
Ireachformyphoneonmynightstandandtrytofocusonthescreen.IhaveseveralmissedcallsfromRyle,whichmakesmeconcernedsomethingiswrong.ButtheonlythingIhavefrommymotherisapictureofEmmyeatingbreakfastfromhalfanhourago.
Phew.Emmyisokay.Iimmediatelyrelax,butknowingRyleisprobablytheoneknockingonmydoordoesn’tallowformuchrelaxation.
“Holdon!”Iyell.
Ithrowonsomethingquick—aT-shirtandjeans—andthenIopenthedoortolethimin.Hemovespastme,intotheapartment,withoutbeinginvitedin.“Iseverythingokay?”Helookspanicked,butalsorelievedtoseethatI’malive.
“Iwasasleep.Everythingisfine.”HecantellI’mannoyed.HeglancesaroundtheroomforEmmy.“Shespentthenightatmymother’s.”
“Oh.”He’sdisappointed.“ItriedcallingbecauseIwantedtopickherupforafewhours.Youweren’tansweringyourphone,andyou’realwaysawakebynow…”Ryle’svoicetrailsoffwhenheseesthecouch.Idon’thavetolookatthecouchtoknowwhathe’sstaringat.MyT-shirtandpantiesarestilltossedhaphazardlyoverthebackofit,I’msure.
“Letmecallmymotherandletherknowyou’recoming.”Igogetmyphonefrommyroom,hopingRyleisn’tabouttoquestionme.He’sruiningthegoodmoodAtlasleftmeinlastnight.
WhenIwalkbackintothelivingroom,Ipausewhilesearchingformymother’scontactonmyphone.Ryleisholdingawineglassinhishand,inspectingit.It’stheoneAtlasdrankfrom.Mineisonthecounternexttoit—aclearindicationthatsomeonewasherewithmedrinkingwinelastnight.
Beforemyunderweargotremovedandleftonthecouch.
IcanseeRyle’sjealousybubblingoverwhenhesetsdownthewineglassandlooksstraightatme.“Didsomeonestaythenight?”
Idon’tbotherdenyingit.I’manadult.Asingleadult.Well,possiblynotsingleanymore,butthat’sanothermatter.“We’redivorced,Ryle.Youcan’taskmequestionslikethat.”
Maybethatwasthewrongthingtosay,becauseRyleimmediatelyrespondsbytakingtwoquickstepstowardme.“Ican’taskyouifsomeonespentthenightinthehomemydaughterlivesin?”
Itakeastepback.“That’snotwhatImeant.AndIwouldn’tbringanyonearoundherwithoutyourapproval;that’swhyshe’satmymother’s.”
Ryle’seyesarenarrowed,accusing.Helooksdisgustedbyme.“Youwon’tleaveherwithmeovernight,butyou’lldropheroffsomewhereelsewhenyouwanttogetfucked?”Helaughs.“Greatparenting,Lily.”
NowI’mgettingangry.“ThisisonlythesecondtimeI’veeverleftherovernightsinceshewasbornalmostayearago.Don’tshamemefortakinganightformyself.AndwhenIdotakeanightformyself,whatIdoduringthattimeisnotyourbusiness.”
Rylehasthatlookinhiseye—thedistantvoidthatalwaystookoverrightbeforehe’dgotoofar.
Myangerinstantlyturnstofear,andwhenRylecanseethatI’mbackingawayfromhim,hereleasesthissoundofrage.Aguttural,angrynoiseoffrustrationthatreverberatesintheroom.
Heleavesmyapartment,slammingthefrontdoorshutbehindhim.Ihearhimyellthewordfuckinthehallway.
I’mnotsurewhichanglehisrageiscomingatmefrom.IshemadI’mmovingon?IshemadmymotherhasEmmy?OrisitthatIallowmymotherovernightswithherbutI’mstillnotcomfortablewithRylehavingovernights?Maybehe’sangryaboutallthreethingspresentingatonce.
Iblowoutacalmingbreath,relievedhe’sgone,butbeforeIcanthinkaboutwhattodonext,Ryleisopeningmydooragain.He’slookingatmefromthehallwaywithaveryflataffectwhenhesays,“Isithim?”
Icanfeelmyheartcatchinmythroatwhenheasksthat.Hedoesn’tsayAtlas’sname,butwhoelsecouldhebereferringto?Idon’timmediatelydenyit,whichisenoughofaconfirmationforhim.
Rylelooksupattheceilingbriefly,andthenshakeshishead.“SoIhadarighttobeconcernedabouthimthewholetime?”
Theentirepastfewminuteshavebeenarollercoasterofemotions,butnothinghasbeenastumultuousasthequestionthatjustlefthismouth.ItakeafewstepsuntilI’mstandinginmydoorway,preparedtoclosethedooronhimassoonasIsaymypiece.
“IfyoutrulybelievethatIwouldhavebeenunfaithfultoyou,thengoaheadandbelievethat.Idon’thavetheenergytokeepconvincingyouotherwise.I’veexplainedthistoyoubefore,soI’mnotsayingitagain.IneverwouldhaveleftyouforAtlas.Ididn’tleaveyouforAtlas.IleftyoubecauseIdeservetobetreatedbetterthanthewayIwastreatedbyyou.”
Igotoclosethedoor,butbeforeIcantakeastepback,Rylemovesforwardandpushesmeuntilmybackisflatagainsttheopenlivingroomdoor.Hiseyesarefilledwithfurywhenheslideshislefthandtothebaseofmythroat,applyingpressureasifhewantstoholdmeinplace.Heslapshisrightpalmflatagainstthedoorbymyhead,anditscaresmesomuch,Iimmediatelysqueezemyeyesshut,notwantingtoseewhat’sabouttocomenext.
Ahugewaveofanxietyandfearrollsovermesointensely,I’mscaredImightpassout.IcanfeelRyle’sbreathcrashingagainstmycheekasitmovesthroughhisclenchedteethbecausehisfaceissoclosetomine.Myheartispoundingsohard,there’snowayhecan’tfeelthatfearbeatingagainsthispalmwiththewayhishandispressedagainstme.Iwanttoscream,butI’mterrifiedifImakeanoise,it’llmakehimevenangrier.
SeveralsecondspassbetweenthemomentRylepinsmeagainstthedoorandthemomenthestartstorealizewhathe’sdone.Whatmorehewaslikelyabouttodo.
Myeyesarestillshut,butIcanfeeltheremorseinthewayheleansforwardandpresseshisforeheadagainstthedoor,rightnexttomyhead.Hestillhasmecagedin,buthe’sreleasedthepressureinthehandthatwasgrippingmyneck,andthere’sastrugglingsoundcomingfromhim,asifhe’stryingnottocry.
Ittakesmebacktothelastnighthehurtme.TheapologieshewaswhisperingasIdriftedinandoutofconsciousness.I’msorry,I’msorry,I’msorry.
Myheartisshattered,becauseRylehasn’tchangedatall.AsmuchasIhopedhehad,andasmuchasIknowhewantedto,he’sstillthesamemanhe’salwaysbeen.IsomehowheldontoasliverofhopethathehadbecomestrongerforEmmy,butthisisabsoluteconfirmationthatI’mmakingtherightchoicesforher.
RyleisclingingtomelikeIcanmakethisbetter,andatonepointintimeIthoughtIcould.He’sabrokenman,butheisn’tbrokenbecauseofme.Hewasbrokenbeforehemetme.Sometimespeoplethinkiftheyloveabrokenpersonenough,theycanbewhatfinallyrepairsthem,buttheproblemwiththatistheotherpersonjustendsupbroken,too.
Ican’taffordtoallowanyonetobreakmeanymore.IhaveadaughterIneedtobewholefor.
Igentlypressmyhandsagainsthischestandurgehimbackintothehallway.WhenI’mfinallyinapositionwherethere’senoughspacebetweenustoshutthedoor,Icloseitandlockit,andthenIimmediatelycallmymotherandtellhertoputEmmyinthecarandmeetmeatthepark.Idon’twantthemtobeatherhouseifRylestillplansonshowingupthere.
AfterIendthecall,Imovewithpurposethroughmyapartment.IfIstopandallowmyselftogetlostinwhatjusthappened,Imightcry.Idon’thavetimetocryrightnow.IgetdressedtogototheparkbecauseIneedtobepresentformydaughterineverywaythatIcanbe.
BeforeIwalkoutthedoor,IgrabthenoteAtlaswrotemeandtuckitintomypurse.Ihaveafeelinghiswordsaregoingtobetheonlybrightspottothisday.
Mypremonitioniscomingtrue.IhearaloudclapofthunderassoonasIpullintotheparkinglotofthepark.There’sastormbrewingtotheeast,andit’sheadingthisdirection.Fitting.
It’snotrainingyet,though,soIscantheplaygrounduntilIspotmymother.She’sholdingEmmy,andthey’regoingdowntheslidetogether.Shehasn’tspottedmeyet,soItakeamomenttopullAtlas’sletteroutofmypurse.I’mstillreelingfrommyinteractionwithRyle.I’dliketoreadsomethingthatcanhopefullyputmeinabettermoodbeforeIgreetmydaughter.
DearLily,
I’msorryIhadtoleavewithoutsayinggoodbye,butyoufallasleepsoeasily.Idon’tmindit—Ilikewatchingyousleep.Evenwhenit’sinacarinthemiddleofadate.
Iusedtowatchyousleepsometimeswhenwewereyounger.Ilikedhowpeacefulyoulooked,becausewhenyouwereawake,therewasalwaysaquietfearinyou.Butwhenyouslept,thefearwasgone,anditalwaysputmeatease.
Ican’tbegintotellyouwhattonightmeanttome.Idon’tthinkIhavetoputitintowordsbecauseyouwerehere.Youfeltit,too.
IknowImentionedearlierthatIcarriedalotofguiltaboutwhathappenedbetweenus,butIdon’twantyoutothinkIcarryregretforlovingyoubackthen.Ifthere’sanythingatallIregret,it’sthatIdidn’tfightharderforyou.Ithinkthat’swherethemajorityofmyguiltstemsfrom—knowingifIdidn’tleaveyou,youneverwouldhavemetamanwhowouldenduphurtingyouthewayyourfatherhurtyourmother.
Butnomatterhowwegothere,we’rehere.IhadtogettoapointwhereIrealizedIwasalwaysworthyofbeinglovedbyyou.Ihatethatwedidn’tgetheresooner,becausetherearesomanythingsinyourlifeIwishyoudidn’thavetogothrough,orthatIcouldhaveprevented.Butanyotherpathwouldn’thavegivenyouEmerson,soI’mgratefulthisiswhereweendedup.
Ilovewatchingyoutalkabouther.Ican’twaittogettoknowher.Butthat’llcomeintime,alongwithalltheotherthingsI’mlookingforwardto.We’llcontinuetotakethisatwhateverpaceyou’recomfortablewith.WhetherIgettotalktoyoueverydayorseeyouonceamonth,anythingisbetterthantheyearsIhadtogonotknowinganythingaboutyou.
I’msohappyyou’rehappy.That’sallI’veeverwantedforyou.
ButIwillsay,nothingbeatsknowingI’mtheoneyougettobehappywithnow.
Love,
Atlas
Iflinchsohard,Ialmostriptheletterintwowhensomeonebangsonmywindow.Igaspandglanceuptoseemymotherstandingnexttomycar.Emmylightsupwhensheseesmethroughthewindow,andthatsmileisallittakestomakemesmileinreturn.
Well,hersmileandtheletterinmyhand.
Ifolditupandtuckitbackintomypurse.Mymotheropensmydoor.“Iseverythingokay?”
“Yeah,it’sfine.”ItakeEmmyfromher,butmymother’seyesaresquintingwithsuspicion.
“Yousoundedscaredwhenyouaskedmetomeetyouatthepark.”
“It’sfine,”Isay,wantingtobrushitoff.“Ijustdidn’twantRyletopickheruptoday.He’snotinaverygoodmood,andheknewshewaswithyou,so…”
Iblowoutabreathandwalkovertotheemptyswingset.ItakeaseatinoneoftheswingsandplaceEmmyonmylap,facingout.Ikickthegroundandgivetheswingalittlepush,watchingasmymothertakesaseatintheswingnexttous.
“Lily.”Mymotherislookingatmewithconcern.“Justtellmewhathappened.”
IknowEmersonisonlyoneandcan’tunderstandmeyet,butitstillmakesmeuncomfortabletotalkaboutherfatherinherpresence.I’mconvincedbabiesandtoddlerscansensemoods,eveniftheycan’tunderstandwhatyou’resaying.
Iattempttoexplainmysituationwithoutmentioningnames.“I’msortofseeingsomeone?”Thatconfessioncomesoutlikeaquestionbecausewehaven’tmadeitofficial,butIdon’tthinkAtlasandIhavetoputalabelonittoknowwherethisisheaded.
“Really?Who?”
Ishakemyhead.I’mnotabouttotellherit’sAtlas,eventhoughsheprobablywouldn’tknowwhoIwastalkingabout.ShesawhimtwicewhenIwasyounger,andweneveroncespokeabouthim.Andifshedoesrememberhim,I’msureshedoesn’twantto,consideringherhusbandputhiminthehospital.
TheremaycomeadaywhenIofficiallyintroduceAtlastomymother,andIdon’twanthertoknowhimfrommypastorshemightfeelmortified.
“JustsomeoneImet.It’searly.But…”Isighandkickthegroundagaintogiveusanothersmallpush.“Rylefoundout,andheisn’thappy.”
Mymotherwinces,likesheknowsalltoowellwhatheisn’thappyimplies.
“Hecamebythismorning,andhisreactionwasscary.Ipanicked,thinkinghewasgoingtoshowupatyourplacetogether,soIdidn’twantyoutobehome.”
“Whatdidhedo?”
Ishakemyhead.“I’mnothurt.It’sjustbeenawhilesinceI’veseenthatsideofhim,soI’malittleshaken,butI’mokay.”IkissEmmyontopofherhead.I’msurprisedtofeelatearskatingdownmycheek,soIquicklywipeitaway.“Ijustdon’tknowwhattodoabouthisvisitsnow.IalmostwishsomethingwouldhavehappenedsoIcouldhavereportedhimthistime.ButthenIfeellikeanawfulmotherforthinkingthatwayaboutherfather.”
Mymotherreachesoverandsqueezesmyhand.Itmakesmyswingcometoastill,soItwistuntilwe’refacingher.“Nomatterwhatyoudecidetodo,youarenotanawfulmother.Preciselytheopposite.”Shereleasesmyhandandgripsthechains,staringatEmmy.“Iadmirethechoicesyou’vemadeforher.SometimesIgetsadthatIcouldn’tbethatstrongforyou.”
Iimmediatelyshakemyhead.“Youcan’tcompareoursituations,Mom.IhadalotofsupportthatenabledmetomakethechoiceImade.Youhadnoone.”
Shegivesmeasad,appreciativesmile.Thensheleansbackandkicksatthegroundtogiveherselfalittleshove.“Whoeverheis,he’saluckyguy.”Sheglancesoveratme.“Whoishe?”
Ilaugh.“No,youdon’t.I’mnottalkingabouthimtoyouuntilhe’safor-surething.”
“Healreadyisafor-surething,”shesays.“Icanseeitinyoursmile.”
Webothlookupatthesametimewhenitstartssprinkling.ItuckEmmyundermychinandwebegintoheadbacktowardtheparkinglot.MymotherkissesEmmybeforeIputherinthecarseat.“Iloveyou.Gammalovesyou,Emmy.”
“Gamma?”Iask.“LastweekitwasNannie.”
“Istillhaven’tsettledononeyet.”Mymotherkissesmeonthecheekandthenrushestohercar.
Iclimbintomycarrightwhenthebottomfallsoutofthesky.Hugedropsofrainassaultthewindshield,thepavement,thehoodofmycar.They’resofat,theysoundlikeacornshittingmycar.
Isitforamoment,waitingtofigureoutwhereI’mgoingbeforeIstartthecar.Idon’twanttogohomeyetbecauseRylemightshowbackup.Idefinitelydon’twanttogotoAllysa’sbecauseI’llabsolutelyrunintohimintheapartmentbuildingwherehelives.
IfeelveryprotectiveofEmmyrightnowbecauseRylehaseveryrightonpapertoshowupandtakeherfrommefortheday,butI’mnotallowingmydaughteraroundhimonadayIknowhisfuseisnonexistent.
Ilookinmyrearviewmirror,andEmmyisjustsittingpeacefully,lookingoutthewindowattherain.Shehasnoideathekindofchaosthatsurroundsherexistence,becausetoher,I’mherentireexistence.Everyounceofhertrustisinme.Shedependsonmeforeverything,andshe’sjustsittingtherehappyandcomfortable,asifIhaveitallundercontrol.
Idon’tfeellikeIhaveitundercontrol,butthefactthatsheassumesIdoisgoodenoughforme.“Wheredowegotoday,Emmy?”ChapterTwenty-FiveAtlas
“Whattimedidyougethomelastnight?”Joshasks.He’sshufflingintothekitchenwearingtwodifferentsocks:oneofthemanewoneIboughthimandoneofthemmine.TheoandJoshwereasleepwhenIgothome,butIstillwokeupthreehoursbeforetheydid.BradjustleftwithTheoabouttwentyminutesago.
“That’snoneofyourbusiness.”Ipointatthetable,whereJosh’shomeworksitsunfinished.HepromisedhewoulddoityesterdayifIletTheospendthenight,butIhaveafeelingthevideogamesandmangaandanimegotintheway.“Youdidn’tdoyourhomework?”
Joshlooksatthepileofpapersandthenbackatme.“No.”
“Gettoit.”Isaythatwithconfidence,butIhavenoideahowtodothis.I’veneverhadtotellakidtodohomeworkbefore.Idon’tevenknowhowtogroundhimifhedoesn’tdohishomework.IfeellikeI’macting.Iam.I’manimposter.
“I’mnotavoidingit,”Joshsays.“Ijustcan’tdoit.”
“Isittoohard?Whatisit,math?”
“No,Ididthemath.Mathiseasy.It’sthisstupidshitIhavetodoforcomputerclass.”
“Stupidcrap,”Isay,correctinghim.Ithink.Maybe“stupidcrap”isjustasbad.IsitdownnexttoJoshtoseewhatitishe’shavingtroublewith.Heslidestheassignmentinfrontofme,andIlookoverit.
It’saresearchassignmentaboutancestry.Therearefivethingsrequiredfortheterm,andoneofthemisafamilytreethatwasdueonFriday.Theotherisagenerationalassignmentusinganancestrywebsitethat’sduenextFriday.
“We’resupposedtofindourrelativesusingsomewebsite.Idon’tknowanyoftheirnamesorevenwheretostart,”hesays.“Doyou?”
Ishakemyhead.“Notreally.ImetSutton’sfatheronce,buthediedwhenIwasakid.Idon’tevenrememberhisname.”
“Whataboutmydad’sparents?”Joshasks.
“Idon’tknowanythingabouthisfamily,either.”
Joshtakesthepapersfromme.“Theyreallyshouldstophavingkidsdothesethings;noonehasnormalfamiliesanymore.”
“You’reright,actually.”Ihearatextpingonmyphoneinthekitchen,soIstanduptogocheckit.
“Didyouevertrytofindmydadforme?”Joshasks.
Ididtry,butTimneverrespondedtothevoicemailIlefthim.Ijustdon’twanttotellJoshthatbecauseIknowit’llbedisappointing.IpickupmyphonebutwalkbacktoJoshbeforelookingatmytexts.“Ihaven’thadachancetoreallylookintoityet.Yousureyouwantmeto?”
Joshnods.“Hemightwanttohearfromme.I’msureSuttonhasdoneeverythingshecantokeepusapart.”
Ifeelastabofconcerninthecenterofmychest.IwashopingJoshwouldbecomfortableenoughheretonotwanttofindhisdad,butthatwasaridiculoushope.He’satwelve-year-oldboy.Ofcoursehewantstofindhisfather.
“I’llhelpyoutrytofindhim.”Ipointtothepapers.“Butdowhatyoucanwiththatfornow.Aslongasyoutry,theycan’tgiveyouabadgradefornotknowingyourgrandparents.”
Joshleansoverhiswork,andIfinallylookdownatthetext.It’sfromLily.
CanIcallyou?
Sheshouldknowshecancallmeanysecondoftheday,andIwouldanswer.Itakemyphonetomyroomandcallherwithouttextingherback.Shepicksupinthemiddleofthefirstring.
“Hey,”shesays.
“Hi.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”
“HelpingJoshwithhishomework.TryingtopretendI’mnotthinkingaboutyou.”She’squietafterIsaythat,andIimmediatelysensesomethingisoff.“Areyouokay?”
“Yeah,Ijust.Idon’twanttogohome.IwaswonderingifIcouldcometoyourplace?”
“Sure.IsEmmystillwithyourmom?”
Shesighs.“That’sthething.Ihaveherwithme.Iknowthat’sweird,butI’llexplainwhenIgetthere.”
Ifshe’sbringingEmersontomyhouse,somethingisdefinitelyoff.She’sbeenadamantshedidn’twanttobringheraroundmebeforeRyleknewaboutus.“I’lltextyoumyaddress.”
“Thankyou.I’llbethereinalittlewhile.”Sheendsthecall,andIfallbackontomymattresswonderingwhatinthehellhappenedinthetimebetweenslippingoutofherbedlastnightandthisphonecall.
Didshegetmyletter?DidIsaysomethingwrong?
Issheabouttobreakthingsoffwithme?
AllthoseconcernsswirlinmygutasIwaitforher,butmybiggestconcernisoneIdon’tevenwanttoallowmymindtoentertain.DidRylehurther?
I’mwatchingforthemwhenshepullsintomydriveway,soImeetheroutside.Icanimmediatelytellsomethingiswrongwhenshegetsoutofthecar.ButIdon’tthinkit’srelatedtomebecausesheseemsrelievedtoseeme.Ipullherinforahugbecauseshelookslikesheneedsone.“Whathappened?”
Sheplacesherhandsonmychestandpullsbacktolookupatme.Sheseemshesitanttosayanything.Sheglancesintothebackwindowtocheckonherdaughter,whoisasleepinthecarseat.
ThenLilyjuststartstocry.Shedropsherfaceagainstmychestandsobsintomyshirt,andit’sthemostheartbreakingthing.Ipressmylipsintoherhairandgiveheramoment.
Shedoesn’tneedlong.Shecomposesherselffairlyquicklyandthenwipesathereyes.“I’msorry,”shesays.“I’vebeenholdingthatinallmorningsinceRyleleft.”
Thementionofhisnamemakesmyspinestiffen.Iknewthishadtodowithhim.
“Heknowsaboutus,”shesays.
“Whathappened?”It’stakingeverythinginmetostandwhereIamandnotruntofindhim.Mybonesfeelasifthey’recracklingwithanger.“Areyouhurt?”
“No.Buthe’sreallyupset,andIdon’twanttobehomealonerightnow.IknowIshouldn’tbebringingEmmyaroundyouyet,butIfeelsaferwithherherethanifRyletriedtoshowupandtakehertoday.I’msorry,Ijustdon’twanttobeanywherehemightfindme.”
Itiltherchinupuntilshe’slookingatme.“I’mhappyyou’rehere.Bothofyou.Staythewholedayifyouwant.”
Sheexhalesandpressesherlipsagainstmine.“Thankyou.”Shemovestothebackdoortograbherdaughteroutofhercarseat.Emersondoesn’tevenwakeup.She’slimpinLily’sarms,passedout.“She’sbeenattheparkforanhour;she’sexhausted.”
IstareatEmersoninwonder,stillamazedbyhowmuchshelookslikeLily.She’sthespittingimageofhermother,andI’mnotatallupsetthatshelooksnothinglikeherfather.“Doyouneedmetograbanything?”
“Herdiaperbagisinthepassengerseat.”
Igrabit,andwemakeourwayintothehouse.Joshlooksoverhisshoulderwhenhehearsmewalkinside.Lilywavesathim,andhenodshishead,butthenwhenhenoticesEmerson,heturnscompletelyaroundinhischair.
“That’sababy,”hesays.
“Itis,”Lilyreplies.“HernameisEmerson.”
Joshlooksatme.“Isityours?”HeusestheSharpieinhishandtopointatEmerson.“Isthatmyniece?”
Lilylaughsuncomfortably.
IprobablyshouldhavewarnedJoshbeforetheyshowedup.“No,Iamnotadad,andyouarenotanuncle.”
Joshstaresatusforaminute,thenshrugsandsays,“Okay.”Heturnsaroundandgiveshisattentionbacktohishomework.
“Sorryaboutthat,”Isayquietly.IsetEmerson’sdiaperbagnearthecouch.“Wantmetogetablanketforher?”
Lilynods,soIgrabathickquiltfromthehallwayclosetandlayitonthefloornexttothecouch.Idoubleitovertogiveitmorecushion,andsheplacesEmersononit.Emersonsleepsthroughtheentiretransfer.
“Don’tletherfoolyou—she’saverylightsleeper.”Lilykicksoffhershoesandsitsonthecouch,pullingherfeetbeneathher.Isitdownnexttoher,hopingshefeelsliketalkingaboutwhathappened,becauseIneedtoknowwhyshe’sscared.
Joshcan’tseeusfromthediningroom,soIgiveLilyaquickkiss.Idoubthecanhearusfromwhereheis,butIwhisperanyway.“Whathappened?”
Shesighswithherentirebodyandleansagainstthecouch,facingme.“HeshoweduptogetEmmy,andIwasn’texpectinghim.Hesawourwineglasses.Myclothes.Heputtwoandtwotogether,andhehadtheexactreactionIwasafraidhewouldhave.”
“Whatreactionwasthat?”
“Hegotangry.Butheleftbeforeitgottoobad.”
Toobad?Whatdoesthatevenmean?“Doesheknowitwasmewhowasthere?”
Lilynods.“That’spracticallythefirstthingheasked.Hegotangry,andIaskedhimtoleave.Andhedid…but…”
Shestopstalking,andforthefirsttime,Inoticeherhandistrembling.God,Ihatehimsomuch.IpullhertomesothathercheekispressedagainstmychestandIholdher.“Whatdidhedothatscaredyou,Lily?”
Herpalmispressedrightovermyheart.Shewhispers,“Hepushedmeagainstthedoor,andhegotclosetomyface,andIthoughthewasgoingtohitmeor…Idon’tknow.Hedidn’t,though.”Shemustfeelmyhearthammeringtwiceasfastagainstmychestnow,becausesheliftsherheadandlooksatme.“I’mfine,Atlas.Ipromise.Nothinghappenedafterthat;it’sjustbeenalongtimesinceI’veseenhimthatangry.”
“Hepushedyouagainstthedoor.That’snotnothing.”
Hereyesflickaway,andshelaysherheadbackonmychest.“Iknow.Iknow.Ijustdon’tknowwhattodoaboutit.Idon’tknowwhattodoaboutEmmy.Iwasactuallygettingclosetolettinghimhaveanovernightwithher,andnowIdon’tevenwanthimtohaveunsupervisedvisits.”
“Hedoesn’tdeserveunsupervisedvisits.Youneedtotakehimbacktocourt.”
Lilysighs,andIcantellthisisprobablythepartofherlifethatcausesherthemoststress.Ican’timaginewhatitmustbelikeforhertowatchhimdriveoffwithherlittlegirlinhiscar,knowingwhathe’scapableof.I’mgladshecameheretoday.Iknowit’simportanttoherthatshewaitedtobringEmmyaroundme,butshemadetherightdecision.RylemightshowbackuptoapologizeandgetEmmy,andhe’llfindheratallherusualplaces.
Hewon’tfindherhere.Besides,LilyandIknowthisthingthat’sbeenbrewingbetweenusisabsolutelyalong-termsituation.Shedoesn’thavetoworryaboutmeforminganattachmenttoEmmyandthendisappearing.AslongasLilywantsmearound,I’mnotgoinganywhere.
Sheliftsherfacetolookatmeagain,andthere’sasmudgeofmascaranearhertemple.Iwipeitaway.“Thisconflictwithhim,”shesays.“ThisiswhatItriedtowarnyouabout.Itcouldbeaconstantthing,especiallynowthatheknowsyou’rebackinmylife.”
She’ssayingthislikeshe’sgivingmetheopportunitytobowoutofthisthingwithher.Ican’tbelievesheassumesthat’sevencrossingmymind.“Youcouldhavefiftyex-husbandswhotrytomakeourliveshell,butaslongasIhaveyou,Iwillbeabsolutelyunaffectedbyanyoneelse’snegativity.That’sapromise.”
Thatmakeshersmileforthefirsttimesincesheshoweduphere.Idon’twanttodoorsayanythingthatcouldstealthatsmile,soIchangethesubjectawayfromherweak-assex-husband.
“Areyouthirsty?”
Shepushesoffmychestandgrinsevenbigger.“Yes.I’mthirstyandI’mhungry.WhyelsewouldIshowupatachef’shouse?”
LilyandEmersonhavebeenhereforaboutfourhoursnow.OnceJoshdidasmuchofhishomeworkashecould,hestartedplayingwithEmerson.Lilysaidshe’sbeentakingstepsforafewweeksnow,andJoshfindsithilariousthatshefollowshimeverywhere.Hemovedaroundforanhourwhileshestumbledafterhim,butnowshe’sasleepagain.Shefellasleeponthefloornexttomewithherheadonmyleg.Lilyofferedtomoveher,butIwouldn’tlether.
IwouldbelyingifIsaidthiswasn’talittlesurreal.Deepdown,IknowthatLilyandIaregoingtoworkout.She’smyperson,andIamhers,andthat’ssomethingI’veknownsincethefirstweekwemet.ButlookingatEmerson,knowingthischildislikelygoingtoendupbecomingahugepartofmylife—that’salottotakein.Icouldbeherstepfathersomeday.I’lllikelybemoreofaninfluenceinherlifethanherbiologicalfather,becauseLilyandIwilleventuallymoveintogether.We’lllikelymarrysomeday.
I’dneveradmitanyofthisoutloudbecausepeoplelikeTheowouldsayI’mgettingaheadofmyself,butthetruthis,I’myearsbehindwhereIwanttobewithLily.WhereIcouldhavebeenwithher.
Thisisahugelysignificantday,evenifIdon’tseeEmersonagainformonths.ThiscouldbethefirstdayI’mspendingwithsomeonewhomightonedayendupbecomingmydaughter.
IbrushthinstrandsofstrawberryhairbehindEmerson’searandtrytounderstandwheresomeofRyle’sangeriscomingfrom.Hecan’tbecluelesstowhatLilymovingonwouldmeanforhisrelationshipwithEmerson.LilyhasEmersonthemajorityofthetime,sowhoeverLilychoosestobringintoherlifewillalsobearoundEmersonthatsameamountoftime.
I’mnotexcusingRyle’sbehaviorbyanymeans.IfIhadmyway,he’dgetajobofferinSudan,andwe’donlyhavetodealwithhimonceayear.
Butthat’snottherealityhere.Rylelivesinthesamecityashisdaughter,andhisex-wifeismovingonwithsomeoneelse.Thatcan’tbeeasyonanyone.WhileIcanunderstandhowdifficultitprobablyisforhim,I’llneverunderstandhisfailuretorecognizethatit’snoone’sfaultbuthisown.Ifhewouldhavebeenamoremature,morerationalman,Lilyneverwouldhavelefthim.He’dhavehiswifeandhisdaughter,andmeandLilywouldn’tevenbeincontact.
I’mworriedforLily.I’mworriedRyleisalittlebitlikemymother,andthathe’sgoingtoretaliatebyfightingforthesakeoffighting,andfornootherreason.
“HaveyouevermadeareportagainstRyle?”Iask,lookingatLily.She’ssittingonthefloornexttome,watchingEmersonsleeponmyleg.
“No.”There’sadropofshameinLily’sresponse.
“Dothetwoofyouhaveacustodyagreement?”
Shenods.“Ihavefullcustody,butitcomeswithstipulations.Becauseofhisschedule,I’mrequiredtobeflexible,buttechnicallyhegetshertwodaysaweek.”
“Hepayschildsupport?”
Shenods.“Hedoes.He’sneverbeenlate.”
I’mrelievedheatleastprovidesherthat,butknowingtheanswerstothesequestionsismakingLily’ssituationseemevenmoreprecarious.
“Why?”sheasks.
Ishakemyhead.“It’snotmybusiness.”Isit?Idon’tevenknow.I’mtryingtotakethingsslowandgiveLilyspace,butthatpartofmeiswarringwiththepartofmethatwantstoprotecther.
Lilyliftsahandandpullsmyfocustohers.“Itisyourbusiness,Atlas.We’retogethernow.”
Herresponsemakesmyheartstutter.Didshejustmakeusofficial?“Arewe?Together?”Ismileandurgeherclosertome,mypulsethrumming.“Aremeandyouathing,LilyBloom?”
Herlipsgrinagainstmine.She’snoddingwhenshekissesme.
Ithinkwebothknewitwasofficiallongbeforelastnight,butifherdaughterweren’tasleeponmylegrightnow,I’dprobablypickLilyupandspinheraround.Iamthathappy.
Andthatmuchmoreinvested.
Myquickburstofadrenalinebeginstoslowagain,bringingmebacktomythoughtsfrombeforeLilydeclaredusofficial.
Ryle.Custody.Immaturity.
Lily’sheadisonmyshoulderandherhandisonmychest,soshefeelsitwhenIexhalealltheairfrommylungs.Sheliftsherheadandlooksatmeanxiously.“Justsayit.”
“Saywhat?”Iaskher.
“Yourthoughtsaboutmysituation.Youreyebrowsareallscrunchedtogetherlikeyou’reworryingaboutsomething.”Sheliftsherhandandusesherthumbtosmoothoutmyseriousexpression.
“Isittoolatetotellthecourthewasadangertoyouinthepast?Maybethatwouldhelppreventhimfromgettingovernightswithher.”
“Oncetwopeopleagreeonacustodyarrangement,youcan’tusepastevidencetomodifyanarrangement.Unfortunately,Ineverreportedhim,soIcan’tusetheabuseasadefenseatthispoint.”
Thatisunfortunate.ButIcanunderstandherattemptingtokeepthingscivilwithhimatthetime.I’mjustworrieditmightcomebackonherinanegativeway.
“He’stoobusytohaveherhalfthetime,orevenovernights,really.Idoubthewouldevertrytogetjointcustodyofher.”
Ipressmylipstogetherandnod,hopingshe’sright.Idon’tknowhimlikeshedoes,butfromwhatIdoknowofhim,heseemstoholdgrudges.Andpeoplewhoholdgrudgestendtoneedretaliation.Parentsdothisallthetime.Theydon’tlikewhatanotherparentisdoing,orwhothey’reseeing,sotheyusetheirchildasaweapon.Andthatworriesme.IcouldabsolutelyseeRylemakingthedecisiontotakehertocourt,simplytogetbackatherforbeingwithme.Andhewouldlikelygetwhathewants.He’sneverhurtEmerson,he’sneverbeenreportedforhurtingLily,he’sneverbeenlateonchildsupport.Andhehasasuccessfulcareer.Allthesethingsareinhisfavor.
WhenIglanceatLily,itlookslikeshe’sabouttosinkintothefloor.Ididn’tmeantoupsetherevenmorebytalkingaboutthis.
“I’msorry.I’mnottryingtobeapessimist.Wecanchangethesubject.”
“Youaren’tapessimist,Atlas.You’rearealist,andIneedthatfromyou.”SheliftsherheadoffmyshoulderandpeeksoveratEmmy,whoisstillasleeponmyleg.ThenLilysettlesagainstmeagain,releasingaquietsigh.“Youknow,evenifIhadreportedRyleandfoughtforsolecustody,mychanceswereslim.Hehasnocriminalhistory,andhehasmoneyforthebestlawyers.AlmosteverylawyerIspoketoencouragedmetoworkitoutcivillywithhimbecausethey’veseencaseslikeours,andthearrangementRylewasagreeingtoatthetimewasmybestoption.”
Igrabherhandandlacemyfingersthroughhers.Shewipesawayatearthatskatesdownhercheek.IhatethatIevenbroughtitup,butthesefearsarealreadyinher.I’mjustgladtoknowshe’sthinkingaboutitbecausesheneedstostayastepaheadofRyle.“Whateverhappens,youaren’taloneinthisanymore.”
Lilysmilesappreciatively.
Emersonbeginstostirawakeonmyleg.Sheopenshereyesandlooksatme,andthenimmediatelysearchesforLily.Shemakesabeelineforher,rightacrossmylap.Whenshe’sinLily’sarms,Iliftmylegandstretchit.Ihaven’tbeenabletomoveitforoverhalfanhourandit’sasleep.
“Weshouldgo,”shesays.“Ifeelguiltyforevenbeingherewithher.I’dbelividifRyletookheraroundagirlfriendwithoutmeknowing.”
“Ithinkyoursituationsarealittledifferent.Ryleisn’thavingtofindasafeplacetohideyourdaughterforthedaybecausehe’sscaredofyourtemper.Don’tbesohardonyourself.”
Lilyshootsmeagratefullook.
IhelphergathertheirthingsandIwalkhertothecar.OnceEmersonisinhercarseat,Lilymovesclosetosaygoodbye.Iburrowmyfingersinherhipsandtughercloser.Idipmyhead,grazinghernose,andthenIcatchherlipswithmine.Ikissherdeeply,wantinghertostillfeelitonherdrivehome.
Islidemyhandsintothebackpocketsofherjeansandsqueezeherass.Itmakesherlaugh.Thenshesighswistfully.“Ialreadymissyou.”
Inodinagreement.“There’sbeenalotofthatonmyend,”Iadmit.“I’mkindofobsessedwithyou,LilyBloom.”Ikisshercheekandthenforcemyselftoreleaseher.
Thisistheonlynegativeaspecttofinallybeingwiththepersonyou’remeanttobewith.Yougoyearsachingtobewiththem,andwhentheyfinallybecomeasignificantpartofyourlife,itsomehowhurtsevenmoreChapterTwenty-SixLily
YoudisappointmeLily.
I’mstaringatmyphoneinshock.
Isthisajoke?
Youtreatmelikeamonsterimhergoddamnfather
It’sfiveinthemorning.Iwokeuptousethebathroom,andnaturally,Iglancedatmyphonebeforeattemptingtogetthelasthourofsleepbeforemyalarmgoesoff.
AllthetextsarefromRyle.Ihaven’theardfromhimsinceheshowedupatmyhouseonSunday.It’sbeenfourdays,andheneverevenbotheredtoreachoutandapologizeforlosinghistemperonme.Hewassilentforfourdaysandthenthis?
IwashappierbeforeImetyou.
Ireadthroughthebarrageoftextmessages,knowingfullwellhewasdrunkwhenhesentthemlastnight.Thefirstonewassentatmidnight,andthelastone,fromtwointhemorning,reads,havefunfuckingthehomelessguy
Idropmyphoneontomybed,myhandstrembling.Ican’tbelievehesentthese.Iwashopingthefourdaysofsilencewasastretchofremorseonhispart,butit’sobvioushe’sbeenstewinginhisanger.
ThisissomuchworsethanIthought
Itrytogobacktosleep,butIcan’t.Igetupandmakemyselfacupofcoffee,butmystomachistooupsettodrinkit.Ispendthenexthalfhourstandinginmykitchen,staringatnothing,replayingthosetextsoverandoverinmymind.
WhenEmersonfinallywakesup,I’mrelieved.Iammorethanwelcomingtothedistractionofourchaoticmorningroutine.
BythetimeIdropheroffwithmymotherandmakeittowork,it’seighto’clocksharp.I’mthefirstoneattheflowershop,soIdistractmyselfwithasmuchasIcanuntilSerenaandLucyshowup.Lucycantellsomethingiswrongwithme,sheevenasksmeifI’mokayatonepoint,butIreassureherthatI’mfine.
IpretendIamfine,butI’mwatchingthefrontdooreverychanceIget,expectingRyletoangrilyburstthroughit.Iwaitforanothermeantextfromhim.Iwaitforthephonetoring.
Hoursgobyandthere’snothing.Notevenanapology.
Idon’ttellAtlas,Idon’ttellAllysa,Idon’tsayanythingtoanyonethroughoutthedayaboutwhathe’sdone.It’sembarrassing.It’sinsultingtoAtlas;it’sinsultingtome.Ihavenoideawhattodoaboutit,butIknowthatthisisn’tsomethingI’mwillingtotolerate.Irefusetogothenextseventeenyearsofmydaughter’slifebeingabusedinanyway,eventhroughtextmessages.
Serenahasgonefortheday,andit’sjustLucyandmewhentheinevitablefinallyhappens.It’safterfive,andwe’rejustgettingreadytocloseupshopsoIcanpickupEmersonfrommymother’swhenRylewalksthroughthefrontdoor.
Myanxietyshootsthroughmelikeanexplosionoflava.
LucyhasneverbeenRyle’sbiggestfan,soshegroansunderherbreathwhensheseeshimandsays,“I’llbeinthebackifyouneedme.”
“Lucy,wait,”Iwhisper.IlookdownatmyphonelikeI’mbusywithsomethingsoRylecan’tseemylipsmoving.“Stay.”Iglanceathersoshecanseetheconcerninmyeyes.Shejustnodsandfindssomethingtomakeherselflookbusy.
MyheartishammeringagainstmychestwhenRyleapproaches.Idon’teventrytohidebehindafakeexpressionwhenIlookhimintheeye.
Heholdsmystareforafewsecondsandthenside-eyesLucy.Henudgeshisheadtowardmyoffice.“Canwetalk?”
“Iwasjustleaving.”Mywordscomeoutquickandfirm.“Ihavetopickupourdaughter.”
IcanseeRyle’slefthandgriptheedgeofthecounter.Hesqueezesit,andthemusclesinhisarmflex.“Please.Itwon’ttakelong.”
IlookatLucy.“Waitformetolockup?”Shegivesmeareassuringnod,soIturnonmyheelsandwalktomyoffice.Icanhearhimrightbehindme.IfoldmyarmsovermychestandsuckinabreathbeforeIcanfacehim.
I’msosickofhisremorse.Iwanttowipethatstupidfrownoffhisface,I’msoangry.
“I’msorry.”Herunsahandthroughhishairandwinces,comingcloser.“Ihadtoomuchtodrinkataneventlastnightand…”
Isaynothing.
“Idon’tevenremembersendingthosetexts,Lily.”
Istillsaynothing.Hebeginstofidget,growinguncomfortableinmysilentanger.Heslideshishandsintohispocketsandstaresathisfeet.“DidyoutellAllysa?”
Idon’tanswerthatquestion.Ifanything,itinfuriatesmeevenmore.He’sworriedwhathissisterwillthinkofhimmorethanwhatkindofdamagehe’sdoingtome?“No,butItoldalawyer.”I’mlying,butit’llbethetruthassoonasheleavesthisbuilding.Fromthispointforward,I’mdocumentingeverythinghedoestome.Atlasisright.Rylelooksperfectonpaper,andifhe’sgoingtocontinuewithabusivetactics,IneedtoprotectmyselfandEmerson.
Ryle’seyesslowlyjourneytomine.“Youwhat?”
“Isentthemtomylawyer.”
“Whywouldyoudothat?”
“Seriously?YoupinnedmeagainstadooronSunday,andthenyousentmethreateningtextsinthemiddleofthenight.Ihavedonenothingtodeservethis,Ryle!”
Hepullshishandsfromhispocketsandsqueezesthebackofhisneckashespinstofacetheotherdirection.Hestretcheshisbackwhilehesucksinabreath.Heseemstobeholdingthatbreathinwhilehesilentlycountsinanattempttosubduetheangerbuildinginhim.
Webothknowhowthosetechniqueshaveworkedinthepast.
Whenheturnsaround,theremorseisgone.“Youdon’tseethepattern,here?Areyoureallythatblind?”
Oh,Idefinitelyseeapattern,butIthinkwe’relookingatdifferentones.
“We’vebeenfineforayear,Lily.Wedidn’thaveasingleissueuntilheshowedbackup.Nowwe’refightingallthetime,andyou’regettinglawyersinvolved?”Helookslikehewantstopunchtheair.
“Stopblamingyourbehavioronotherpeople,Ryle!”
“Stopignoringthecommonfuckingdenominatorforallofourproblems,Lily!”
Lucyappearsinthedoorwayofmyoffice.ShelooksfrommetoRyle,andthenbacktome.“Areyouokay?”
Ryleletsoutanexasperatedlaugh.“She’sfine,”hesays,irritated.Rylewalkstowardthedoor,andLucyhastopressherselfagainstthedoorframetoavoidbeingbumpedinto.“Afuckinglawyer,”Ihearhimmutter.“Letmetakeoneguessastowhoseideathatwas.”Ryleiswalkingtowardthedoorlikehe’sonamission.LucyandIbothexitmyoffice,mostlikelyforthesamereason.Tolockhimoutonceheexitstheshop.
WhenRylereachesthefrontdoorofthebuilding,hespinsaroundandstabsmewithasharpglare.“Iamaneurosurgeon.Youworkwithflowers,Lily.Rememberthatbeforeyourlawyerdoesanythingstupidtothreatenmycareer.Ipayforthatfuckingapartmentyoulivein.”Histhreatispunctuatedbyhishandsslammingopenthedoor.
LucyistheonetolockitafterhefinallyleavesbecauseI’mfrozenfromtheimpactofthatlastinsult.Shewalksbacktomeandpullsmeinforasympathetichug.
Irealizeinthismomentthatthehardestpartaboutendinganabusiverelationshipisthatyouaren’tnecessarilyputtinganendtothebadmoments.Thebadmomentsstillreartheiruglyheadseverynowandthen.Whenyouendanabusiverelationship,it’sthegoodmomentsyouputanendto.
Inourmarriage,thefewterrifyingincidentswereblanketedbysomanygoodones,butnowthatourmarriageisover,theblankethasliftedandallI’mleftwitharetheworstpiecesofhim.Whereourmarriagewasoncefullofheartandfleshthatcushionedtheskeleton,allthat’sleftistheskeletonnow.Sharp,bonyedgesthatslicerightthroughme.
“Youokay?”Lucyasks,smoothingherhandsdownmyhair.
Inod.“Yeah,but…diditseemlikeheleftherewithapurpose?Likehewasgoingsomewhereelse?”
Lucy’seyesscanthedooragain.“Yeah,hepeeledoutoftheparkinglotprettyfast.MaybeyoushouldwarnAtlas.”
Iimmediatelygrabformyphoneandcallhim.ChapterTwenty-SevenAtlas
It’sonlybeenhalfanhoursinceIcheckedmyphone,soI’malarmedwhenIseeseveralmissedcallsandthreetextsfromLily.
Pleasecallme.
I’mokaybutRyleisangry.
Didheshowupthere?Atlas,pleasecallme.
Shit.
“Darin,canyoutakeover?”
Darinmovestofinishplatingforme,andIimmediatelywalktomyofficeandcallher.Herphonegoesstraighttovoicemail.Itryheragain.Nothing.
I’mpreparingtoheadoutbacktomycarwhenmyphonefinallyrings.Ianswerimmediatelywith,“Areyouokay?”
“I’mfine,”shesays.
Istoprushingtowardthedoorandleanmyshoulderintoawall.Ireleaseabreath,myheartrateplummetingbacktonormal.
Itsoundslikeshe’sdriving.“I’mgoingtopickupEmmy.Ijustwantedtowarnyouthathe’sangry.Iwasworriedhemightshowupthere.”
“Thanksforthewarning.Yousureyou’reokay?”
“Yes.Callmewhenyougethome.Idon’tcarehowlateitis.”
Ryleburststhroughthekitchendoorsinthemiddleofhersentence.Hemakesenoughofaruckusthateveryonenoticesandpauseswhatthey’redoing.Derek,myheadwaiter,isrightbehindRyle.
“IsaidIwouldgethim,”DerekissayingtoRyle.Dereklooksatmeandthrowsuphishandstoletmeknowhetriedtopreventtheintrusion.
“I’llcallyouonmywayhome,”Isay.IfailtomentionRylejustshowedup.Idon’twanthertobeconcerned.IendthecallrightasRyle’seyeslandonme.
Idon’tthinkhe’sheretocongratulateme.
“Whoisthat?”Darinasks.
“Mybiggestfan.”Inudgemyheadtowardthebackdoor,soRylestartswalkinginthatdirection.
Thekitchenbeginstobuzzagain,everyoneignoringRyle’sintrusion.EveryonebutDarin.“Youneedmetodosomething?”
Ishakemyhead.“I’llbefine.”
Rylepushesopenthebackdoorsohard,itslamsagainsttheoutsidewall.
Whatapieceofwork.Iheadinthatdirection,butassoonasIopenthebackdoorandwalkontothebacksteps,Rylecomesatmefromtheleft.Heknocksmeoffthesteps,andthen,whenItrytostandup,hepunchesme.
It’sagoodpunch,too.I’llgivehimthat.
Fuck.
Iwipemymouthandstandup,thankfulhe’satleastgivingmeroomtodothat.It’snotreallyafairadvantagewhenonepersonisonthegroundwhenthepunchingbegins.ButRyledoesn’tseemlikethetypetoplayfair.
He’sabouttohitmeagain,butIbackupandheendsuptripping.Hepushesofftheground,andwhenhe’sbackonhisfeet,hestaresatme,fuming.Hedoesn’tseemtobeinattackmodeinthemoment.
“Youdone?”Iaskhim.
Hedoesn’trespond,butIdon’tthinkhe’lllungeformeagain.Rylestraightenshisshirtandsmirks.“Ilikeditbetterwhenyoufoughtbacklasttime.”
Istrugglenottorollmyeyes.“Ihavenodesiretofightyou.”
Hepopshisneckandstartstopace.Hehassomuchangerinhim,Ican’timaginewhatthismustbelikeforLilywhenshehastowitnessit.He’sbreathingheavily,hishandsonhiships,hiseyespiercingmelikeknives.Idon’tjustseeangerinhisexpression.Iseeahellofalotofpain.
IsometimestrytoputmyselfinRyle’sshoes,butasmuchasIstruggletostandinthem,theydon’tfit.Theyneverwill,becausethereisn’tasinglehumaninhistorywithapastmisfortunateenoughtoexcusebeatingthepersonyou’resupposedtoprotect.
“Justsaywhateveritisyoucameheretosay.”
Rylewipesbloodawayfromhisknuckleswithhisshirt,andInoticehishandisswollen.Itlookslikehewaspunchingthingsbeforeheshowedupandhitme.I’mgladIknowLilyisokay,orhewouldn’tbewalkingawayinthesameconditionheshowedupin.
“YouthinkIdon’tknowthelawyerwasyouridea?”hesays.
Itrytohidemysurprise,butIhavenoideawhathe’stalkingabout.Didshespeaktoalawyerabouthersituation?Itmakesmewanttosmile,butI’msureasmilewouldantagonizeRyle,andIdoenoughofthatsimplybyexisting.
Mylackofresponseisgettingunderhisskin.Ryle’sfacetwistsinanger.“Youmighthaveherfooledrightnow,butyou’llhaveyourfirstfightwithher.Andyoursecond.She’llseethatmarriageisn’tfuckingrainbowsallthegoddamntime.”
“Icouldhaveamillionargumentswithher,butIcanpromiseyouthey’llneverendwithherinthehospital.”
Rylelaughs.He’stryingtospinthistolooklikeI’mtheridiculousone.I’mnottheonewhobargedintohisplaceofworkbecauseIcouldn’tcontrolmyemotions.
“YouhavenoideawhatLilyandIhavebeenthrough,”hesays.“YouhavenoideawhatI’vebeenthrough.”
It’slikeheshowedupwantingafight,butI’mnotgivinghimthat,sohe’susingitasaventingsession.MaybeIshouldgivehimTheo’snumber.I’mseriouslyatalosshere.
Idon’twanttocomebacktothismomenttomorrowandseeitasalostopportunity.MyonlygoalistomakeLily’slifewiththismanmorepeaceful.ThelastthingIwanttodoismakethingsmoredifficultbetweenusall,butuntilhegetsitthroughhisheadthathe’stheonlyoneincontrolofhisreactions,I’mjustasconfusedasLilyastohowtodealwithhim.
“You’reright,Ryle.”Inodslowly.“You’reright.Ihavenoideawhatyou’vebeenthrough.”Itakeaseatonthestairstolethimknowhehasnoreasontofeelthreatenedbyme.AndifhetriestoattackmeagainwhileI’msitting,I’mnotgoingtorespondtohimwithasmuchcomposurethistime.Iclaspmyhandstogetheranddomyverybesttospeakinawaythatmightgetthroughtohim.
“Whateverhappenedinyourpasthelpedmakeyouagreatneurosurgeon,andtheworldneedsthatsideofyou.Butyourpastalso—forwhateverreason—madeyouashittyhusband.Theworlddoesn’tneedthatsideofyou.Justbecausewegettheopportunitytobesomething,thatisn’taguaranteethatwe’llbegoodatit.”
Rylerollshiseyes.“That’sdramatic.”
“Iwatchedthemstitchherup,Ryle.Wakethefuckup,man.Youwereahorriblehusband.”
Hestaresatmeforabeat,thensays,“Whathasyouconvincedyou’llbeanybetter?”
“TreatingLilythewayshedeservestobetreatedistheeasiestpartofmylife.Ithinkyoushouldberelievedshe’swithsomeonelikeme.”
Helaughs.“Relieved?Ishouldberelieved?”Hetakesseveralstepstowardme,hisangerascendingagain.“You’rethereasonwearen’ttogether!”
Ittakeseverythinginmetoremainonthesesteps,andeveryounceofpatienceIhavenottoreturnhisshoutswithmyown.“You’rethereasonyouaren’ttogether.Itwasyourangerandyourfiststhatgotyouhere.IwasbarelyanacquaintanceinLily’slifewhenshewaswithyou,sodothematurethingandstopblamingme,andLily,andeveryoneelseforyouractions.”Istandup,butnottohithim.IjustneedtomakeroominmychesttoexhalebecauseifIdon’t,I’mnotsurehowmuchlongerIcandothiswithoutraisingmyvoicetohislevel.It’shardlookingathimandremainingcomposed,knowingwhathe’sdonetoLily.“Dammit,”Imutter.“Thisisridiculous.”
RyleandIarebothquietforamoment.MaybehecantellI’matmylimitbecauseI’mnotkeepingmyfrustrationasundercontrolanymore.Ispinandfacehim,lookingathimpleadingly.“Thisisourlifenow.Yours,mine,Lily’s,yourdaughter’s.Wehavetodealwiththis.Forever.Holidays,birthdays,graduations,Emerson’swedding.Allthesethingsaregoingtobedifficultforyou,butyou’retheonlyonewhocanmakesuretheyaren’tdifficultfortherestofus,too.Becausenoneofusowesyouourhappiness.EspeciallyLily.”
Ryleshakeshishead.Hepaceslikehe’stryingtoerasetheasphaltanduncoverearth.“Youexpectmetowhat—tocheeryoutwoon?Towishyouwell?Toencourageyoutobeagoodfathertomyfuckingdaughter?”Helaughsattheabsurdityhefindsintheideaofthat,butIkeepaverystraightface.
“Yes.Exactlythat.”
Ithinkmyresponsethrowshimoff.Hepausesandthreadshishandsatthenapeofhisneck.
Itakeastepclosertohim,butnotinathreateningway.Idon’twanttoyell.IwantRyletoheartheabsolutesincerityinmyvoice.“AshappyasIknowIcanmakeLily,she’llneverbefullyhappyuntilshehasyouracceptanceandcooperation.Andyou’remakingitdifficult,eventhoughyouknowshedeservesagoodlife.Theybothdo.IfyouwantyourdaughtertogrowupwiththebestversionofLily,thenpleaseworkwithher.Thisispossibleforallofus.”
Rylerollshisneck.“Whatarewe,somekindofteamnow?”
Ihatethathe’stryingtomakeanyofthissoundbeyondtherealmofpossibility.“Ateamistheonlythingpeopleshouldbewhenkidsareinvolved.”
Thathitshim.Icanseeitinthewayheflinches,andthensubtlyswallows.Heturnsaroundandfacesawayfromme,takingafewstepswhilehecontemplateseverythingI’vesaid.Whenheturnsbackaroundandlooksatme,there’salittlelessvitriolthere.
“Whenthingsdon’tworkoutbetweenthetwoofyouandLilyneedssomewheretorun,I’mnotpickingupthepiecesthistime.”Withthat,Rylewalksaway.Hedoesn’tgothroughtherestaurantthistime.Heheadsdownthealley,towardthestreet.
Icandonothingbutstareathimwithpityashewalksaway.Hetrulydoesn’tknowLilyatall.
Atall.
Lilydoesn’truntopeople.Shedidn’trunaftermewhenIleftMaine.Shedidn’truntomewhensheleftRyle.Shefocusedonbeingamother.Yetthat’swhatheexpectshertodoifthingsdon’tworkoutbetweenus?Runtohimlikehe’sherhomebase?
Lily’shomebaseisEmerson,andifhestillcan’tseethat,he’sclueless.
IfLilyhadstayedwithhim,hewouldhavespenttherestoftheirlivesinventingissuesinordertojustifyhisexcessiveanger.BecauseIwasneveranissueintheirmarriage,andIneverwouldhavebeen.
IthoughtIpitiedhimbefore,buthe’sfightingforawomanhebarelyevenknows,whichmeanshe’sjustfightingforthesakeoffighting.He’sgotaverysimilarpersonalitytomymother,andsometimesthere’snofixingthat.Youjusthavetolearntoliveyourlifearoundit.
Maybethat’swhatLilyandIaregoingtohavetodo.LearntoliveourlivesthebestwecanwhileoccasionallyhavingtodealwiththeridiculouswrathofRyle.
That’sfine.I’dgothroughthisshiteverydayifitmeansI’mtheonewhogetstofallasleepnexttohereverynight.
Iwalkupthestepsandreturntothehustleofthekitchen,andIgetrightbacktoworklikehewasneverevenhere.Idon’tknowifmyresponsetonightmadethissituationbetter,butIdefinitelydon’tthinkImadeitworse.
Darinhandsmeawetrag.“You’rebleeding.”Hepointstotheleftsideofmymouth,soIholdtheragthere.“Wasthatherex?”
“Yeah.”
“Everythingokaynow?”
Ishrug.“Idon’tknow.Hemightgetmadandcomeback.Hell,thiscouldgoonforyears.”IlookatDarinandsmile.“Butshe’sworthit.”
Threehourslater,I’mknockingsoftlyonLily’sapartmentdoor.ItextedhertoletherknowIwascoming.Ithoughtshemightneedanotherdrive-byhug.
Whensheopensherdoor,it’sclearthat’sexactlywhatsheneeds.AndwhatIneed.Assoonaswe’reinsideherlivingroom,sheslipsherarmsaroundmywaistandIfoldmyselfaroundher.Weremainembracedforacoupleofminutes.
Whensheliftsherface,hereyebrowsdrawapartwhensheseesthesmallcutonmylip.“He’ssuchanimmatureasshole.Didyouputiceonit?”
“I’llbefine.Itdidn’tevenswell.”
Lilyliftsupontohertoesandkissesmycut.“Tellmewhathappened.”
WesitonthecouchandItrytorecalleverythingthatwassaid,butI’msureIleaveafewthingsout.WhenI’mfinishedspeaking,she’sleaningagainstthebackofthecouchwithalegdrapedovermine,concentrating.She’sthreadingherfingersinandoutofmyhair.
She’squietforalongtime.Thenshejustlooksatmewithasweetnessthatmeltsoverme.“I’mconvincedyou’retheonlymanontheplanetwhocouldgetpunchedandthenoffertheaggressoradvice.”BeforeIcanrespond,she’sslidingontomylap,bringingherfaceclosetomine.“Don’tworry,Ifinditsomuchmoreappealingthanifyouwouldhavefoughthimback.”
Islidemyhandsupherback,surprisedshe’sinsuchagoodmood.Idon’tknowwhyIthoughtthisconversationwouldbeaweightonher.ButIguessthisisthebestpossibleoutcome.Ryleknowswe’reathing,Ihadachancetosaymypiece,andweallcameoutofitrelativelyunharmed.
“Ican’tstaylong,butIcanprobablystretchthishugoutforanotherfifteenminutesbeforeJoshnoticesI’mlate.”
Sheraisesaneyebrow.“Whenyousay‘hug,’doyoumean…”
“Imeangetnaked—we’redowntofourteenminutes.”Ipushherontoherbackandkissher,andwedon’tstopforfourteenminutes.Thenseventeen.Thentwenty.
It’sthirtyminuteslaterbeforeIfinallywalkoutofherapartment.ChapterTwenty-EightLily
Allysahasthebrightideaofjustsettingthemontheflooronalayeroftrashbags,soit’llbeaneasycleanup.Emmyandhercousin,Rylee,arebothcoveredincakenow.
Emmyhasnoideawhat’sgoingon,butshe’senjoyingherself.WeendeduphavingasmallpartyforherhereatAllysa’s.Mymotherishere,Ryle’sparents,Marshall,andAllysa.
Ryleisalsohere,buthe’sabouttoleave.Hesnapsacoupleofphotosonhisphonebeforegivingboththegirlsaquickkissgoodbye.
IheardhimtellingMarshallit’sbeenabusydaywithwork,buthemadetheparty.Iwashappyhemadeitintimeforpresents,andhestayeduntilthecakewasmostlydemolished.Iknowit’llmeansomethingtoEmmysomedaywhensheseesthepictures.
Wehaven’tspokentheentiretimehe’sbeenhere.We’vecircledaroundeachother,pretendingeverythingisfineinfrontofeveryone,butRyleisanythingbutfine.Icanfeelthetensionradiatingfromhimwhilestandingacrosstheroom.Beingignoredbyhimisbetterthanbeingblamedbyhim,though.I’dtakethesilenttreatmentoverthealternativeanyday.
Unfortunately,Idon’tgetthesilenttreatmentforlong.
Ryleismakingeyecontactwithmeforthefirsttimetoday.Imadethemistakeofstandingalone,sohetakesthisasanopportunitytowalkoverandstandbesideme.Istiffen,notwantingtodothisrightnow.Wehaven’tspokensinceheinsultedmewhilewalkingoutofmyflowershoplastweek.Iknowweneedtohaveaconversation,butourdaughter’sbirthdaypartyisnotthetimeorplace.
Ryleslipshishandsintohispockets.Hetuckshischinagainsthischestandstaresatthefloor.“Whatdidyourlawyersay?”
Angerclimbsupmychest.Iside-eyehimandgivemyheadashake.“Wearen’thavingthisconversationrightnow.”
“Thenwhen?”
It’snotreallyamatterofwhen,butwhowith?BecauseI’mnotgoingtodiscussanythingwhilewe’realoneeveragain.He’sproventomethatI’mnotsafewhenI’malonewithhim,sothatprivilegeisover.
“I’lltextyou,”Isay,andthenIwalkaway,leavingRylestandingalone.MymotherisholdingEmmy,wipingcakeoffherfaceandhands,soIheadintheirdirection,butAllysapullsmeasidebeforeIreachthem.
“Let’schat,”shesays.Ifollowhertoherbedroom,whereshesitsonherbed.
Sheonlybringsmetoherbedroomwhenshewantstoconfrontmeaboutsomething,andhertimingisalwaysimpeccablyintuitive.IrollmyeyesassoonasIwalkintoherroom,andthenIsitdownonherbed.“Whatdoyouwanttoknow?”It’sbeenacoupleofweekssincewe’vecaughtupalone.There’salotshecouldbewonderingaboutmylife.It’sbeenprettyeventfulherelately.
Allysafallsbackontothebed.“ThingsbetweenyouandRylefeelkindofofftoday.”
“It’snoticeable?”
“Inoticeeverything.Areyouokay?”
Ithinklongandhardaboutthatquestion.Areyouokay?IusedtohidefromthatquestionbecauseIwasn’tokay.EvenmonthsafterEmerson’sbirth,whensomeonewouldaskmethat,IwouldputonasmilewhileIshriveledupinside.
ThisisthefirsttimeI’mnotlyingwhenIsay,“Yes.I’mokay.”
Allysaregardsmesilently.There’sareassuranceinherexpression,likeshemightevenbelievemethistime.ShegrabsmyhandandpullsmeuntilI’mlyingonthebednexttoher.Shelocksourarmsattheelbows,andwejuststareupattheceiling,enjoyingamomentofsilenceinahousefullofpeople
I’mgladIstillhaveAllysa.Thatwouldhavebeenthemostheartbreakingthingofalltohavetoloseinmydivorce.I’mgratefulshe’ssofullofforgivenessandpositivity.
IwishIcouldsaythesameforherbrother.SometimesIfeellikeRylehasamonsterinsidehimthatisonaconstantsearchtobeoffended.Hisdarksidefeedsoffdrama,andifnoonegiveshimany,hemakesitup.ButIcan’tbeaplayerinhisgameanymore.IknowmyintentionswerepurewhenIwasmarriedtoRyle,nomatterhowmuchRylewantedhisdelusionstobetruesotheycouldexcusehisbehavior.
“HowarethingswithAdonis?”
Ilaugh.“YoumeanAtlas?”
“IsaidwhatIsaid.Adonis,thebeautifulGreekgodyou’reinlovewith.”
Ilaughagain.“Wasn’tAdonisaproductofincest?”
Allysashovesme.“Stopdeflecting.Howarethingsgoing?”
Irollontomystomachandliftuponmyelbow.“Good,ifwe’devergettospendtimetogether.Hisrestaurantdoesn’topenuntilmyflowershopcloses.Wehaven’tevenspentanentirenightwitheachotheryet.”
“What’sAtlasdoingrightnow?Working?”
Inod.
“YoushouldseeifhecantakeoffearlyandI’llkeepEmersontonight.Wedon’thaveplanstomorrow;youcouldcomegetherwhenever.”
Myeyeswidenatheroffer.“Forreal?”
Allysaclimbsoffthebed.“Ryleelovesitwhenshe’shere.GospendthenightwithyourAdonis.”
Ididn’ttextAtlastolethimknowIwasonmywaytoCorrigan’s.Hetoldmehe’dbeworkingtheretonight,andIthoughtitmightbefuntosurprisehim,butwhenIwalkthroughthedoorsthatleadtothekitchen,I’mamazedathowbusyitis.Nooneevenhearsmeenter,soIlookarounduntilIspothim.
Atlasisinspectingeachplateasthey’regiventohimtoplaceontrays,thenthewaitstaffquicklydisappearwiththefoodthroughthedoubledoors.ThisplaceismoreupscalethanBib’s,andIthoughtBib’swasupscale.Allthewaitersaredressedinformalattire.Atlasisinawhitechef’scoatthatmatchesacoupleoftheothersinthekitchen.
They’vegotsuchagroovegoing,IquestionwhetherIshouldhaveshownup.IfeellikeI’llbeinthewayifIwalkovertohim,butIsuddenlyfeelveryawkwardthatIjustshowedupwithoutlettinghimknow
IrecognizeDarinassoonashespotsme.Hesmilesandnodshishead,thengetsAtlas’sattention.Hemotionstowardme,andwhenAtlasturnsaroundandseesmeinhiskitchen,hiseyeslightup.Butonlymomentarily.ThefactthatI’mhereinstantlychangeshisexcitementtoconcern.Hemakesabeelineforme,sidesteppingaroundawaiterwhoiswalkingbackintothekitchenwithanemptytray.
“Hey.Everythingokay?”
“It’sfine.AllysadecidedtokeepEmmyforthenight,soIthoughtI’dstopby.”
Atlassmileshopefully.“Isshekeepingherforthewholenight?”There’saflickerofflirtationinhiseyes.
Inod.
“Hotbehind!”someoneyellsfrombehindme.Hotbehind?MyeyeswidenjustasAtlaspullsusoutofthewayofawaitercarryingatrayoffood.
“Kitchenslang,”hesays.“Meansyou’reinthewayofhotfood.”
“Oh.”
Atlaslaughs,andthenlooksoverhisshoulderatalltheplateshe’sfallingbehindon.“Givemeabouttwentyminutestogetuscaughtup?”
“Ofcourse.Ididn’tcomeheretoaskyoutoleaveearly.IthoughtIcouldwatchyouworkforawhile;it’skindoffun.”
Atlaspointstoametalcounter.“Sitthere.It’sthebestview,andyouwon’tgetknockedover.Getsprettybusybackhere.Bedonesoon.”Heliftsmychinandbendstokissme,thenhebacksawayandreturnstowhathewasdoingbeforeIwalkedin.
Itakeaseatonthecounterandpullupmylegs,crossingthemsothatI’mcompletelyoutoftheway.Inoticeafewoftheemployeesstealingglancesatme,whichmakesmesomewhatuncomfortable.Outofallthepeoplebackhererightnow,I’veonlymetDarin,soIhavenoideawhoanyofthemare.Idowonderwhatthey’rethinkingoftherandomgirlAtlasjustkissedwhoisnowwatchingthemwork.
Idon’tknowifAtlasnormallybringswomenaround,butIgetthefeelinghedoesn’t.Everyoneislookingatmelikethisisananomaly.
Darincomesovertogreetmeassoonashegetsachance.Hegivesmeaquickhugandsays,“Goodtoseeyouagain,Lily.Youstillhustlingunassumingpokerplayers?”
Ilaugh.“Notforawhilenow.Doyouguysstillhaveyourpokernights?”
Heshakeshishead.“Nah,we’retoobusynowthatAtlashasbothrestaurants.Itwasdifficultfindinganightwecouldallmeetup.”
“That’sashame.Areyouworkingherenow?”
“Notofficially.AtlaswantedtoseehowIworkwiththemenuhere;he’sthinkingofpromotingmetoheadchef.”Heleansinandsmiles.“Hesaidhewantsmoretimeoff.IguessnowIknowwhy.”Darintossesaragoverhisshoulder.“Itwasgoodseeingyou.Soundslikeyou’llbearoundmoreoften.”Hewinksbeforewalkingaway.
KnowingAtlasismakinganefforttospendlesstimeatworkmakesmystomachswirlwithhappiness.
IspendthenextfifteenminutessilentlywatchingAtlaswork.Everynowandthenhe’llglanceatmeandgivemeawarmsmile,buttherestofthetime,he’sfocusedonhisjob.Hisintensityandconfidencearemesmerizing.
Nooneseemsintimidatedbyhim,buteveryoneappearstowanthisopinion.He’sconstantlybeingaskedquestions,andherespondstoeachoneofthemwithpatience.Inbetweenthosemomentsofteaching,there’salotofyelling.NotthekindofyellingI’dexpecttofindinakitchen,butpeoplecallingoutfoodordersandcooksyellingtheiracknowledgments.It’sloudandbusy,butthevibeisarush.
It’shonestlynotatallwhatIexpectedtofind.IthoughtI’dseeawholenewsidetoAtlas—onewherehebarkedorderswithangerandbehavedlikeallthechefsI’veseenontelevision.But,thankfully,that’snotatallwhatishappeninginthiskitchen.
Afterathrillinghalfanhourgoesby,Atlasfinallystepsawayfromhisstation.Hewasheshishandsbeforewalkingovertome.Igetthisknotofexcitementinmystomachwhenheleansforwardandpresseshismouthtomine,likehedoesn’tcarethatallhisstaffcanseeus.
“Sorrythattooksolong,”hesays
“Ienjoyedit.ItwasdifferentthanIexpected.”
“Howso?”
“Ithoughtallchefswereassholesandscreamedattheirstaff.”
Helaughs.“Noassholesinthiskitchen.Sorrytodisappoint.”Heuncrossesmylegssohecanstandbetweenthem.“Guesswhat?”
“What?”
“JoshisstayingoveratTheo’stonight.”
Ican’tholdbackmygrin.“Whatawonderfulcoincidence.”
Atlas’seyessweepoverme,andthenheleanshisheadagainstmine,pressinghislipslightlyagainstmyear.“Yourplaceormine?”
“Yours.Iwanttobeinabedthatsmellslikeyou.”
Henipsatmyear,sendingchillsdownmyneck.Thenhetakesmyhandsandhelpsmedownfromthecounter.Hegiveshisattentiontosomeonepassingby.“Hey,canyoutakeoverthepass?”
Theguysays,“Youbet.”
Atlaslooksbackatmeandsays,“Meetyouatmyhouse.”
Istoppedbymyapartmentbeforegoingtohisrestauranttopackabagjustincasethiswasapossibility,soIgettohisplacebeforehedoes.WhileIwaitforAtlas,IusethetimeinmycartocheckinwithAllysa.
Didshefallasleepokay?
Justfine.How’syournightgoing?
Justfine.??
Havefun.Iexpectafullreport.
Atlas’sheadlightsshinethroughmycarashepullsintohisdriveway.I’mstillgatheringmythingswhenheopensmycardoor.AssoonasIclimboutofthecar,Atlasdipsanimpatienthandintomyhairandkissesme.It’sthekindofkissthatscreamsI’vemissedkissingyou
Whenhepullsback,hestudiesmyfacewithagentlesmile.“Ilikedyouwatchingmeinthekitchentonight.”
Ashiverpassesoverme.“Ilikewatchingyou.”Ican’tsayitwithoutgrinning.Igrabmybagfromthepassengerseat,andAtlastakesitfrommeandhoistsitoverhisshoulder.Ifollowhimthroughthegarage.Hestillhasmovingboxespiledupalongonewall.There’saweightbenchinpiecesonthefloornexttotheunpackedboxes.Therearetwofullbasketsoflaundrysittinginfrontofawasheranddryer.
Seeingalittlebitofdisarrayinhisgarageiscomforting.Iwasbeginningtothinkhewastoogoodtobetrue,butAtlasCorriganisbehindonlifeandbehindonlaundryliketherestofus
Heunlockshishouseandholdsthedooropenforme.It’ssmallerthanhislastone,butit’smorehim.Andit’snotacut-and-pastebrickbuildinginasubdivisionofsimilar-lookinghomes.Thehousesinthisneighborhoodhavecharacter.Eachoneisvastlydifferent,fromthepinktwo-storyhouseonthecornertothemodernboxyglassoneattheotherendofthestreet.
Atlas’shouseisabungalow-stylehomenestledinbetweentwolargerhomes.WhenIwasherelasttime,Inotedthathesomehowgotthebiggestbackyardofthethree.Plentyofroomforagardensomeday…
Atlasentershissecuritycodeintohiskeypad.“It’sninefiveninefive,”hesays.“Ifyoueverneedin.”
“Ninefiveninefive,”Irepeat,notingit’sthesamenumbercombinationashisphone.He’samanofcommitment.Ilikeit.
Hissecuritycodeisn’takeytohishouse,butitfeelsalmostassignificant.Heplacesmybagonhiscouchandthenflipsonthelivingroomlight.Mybackistothewall,andI’mstandingoutoftheway,watchinghim.It’sagoodthingheinformedmethathelikeditwhenIwaswatchinghimatwork,becausewatchingAtlasismyfavoritepastime.Icouldlivemylifeasaflyonhiswallandbecontent.“What’syourroutinewhenyougethomeatnight?”
Atlastiltshishead.“Whatdoyoumean?”
Igestureattheroom.“Whatdoyoudowhenyougethomeatnight?PretendI’mnothere.”
Heregardsmesilently.Thenhewalkstowardme,pausingrightinfrontofme.Hepressesahandontothewallbesidemyheadandleansin.“Well,”hewhispers.“First,Itakeoffmyshoes.”
Ihearoneofhisshoesbeingkickedoff,thentheother.He’ssuddenlyaninchlowerandevenclosertomymouth.Hefeathershislipslightlyacrossmine,sendingfireworkspoppingbeneathmyskin.“Then…”Hekissesthecornerofmymouth.“Itakeashower.”Hepushesoffthewallandbacksaway,hiseyeslockedonmineinadare.
Hedisappearsintohisbedroom.
I’minhalingasteadyingbreathwhenIhearhisshowerstartrunning.Islipoffmyshoesandleavethemnexttohis,thenIfollowthepathhetookdownthehallway.Igentlypushopenthehalf-closeddoorandtakeinhisbedroominpersonforthefirsttime.I’veseenitinourvideochats,butIdidn’tcomeinherewhenIcametohishousethefirsttime.Irecognizehisblackheadboardandthedenim-blueaccentwallbehindit,buttherestofhisbedroomisnewtome.Ipassovereverythinginsearchofthebathroomdoor.
Heleftitopen.Hisshirtisonthefloorbythedoorway.
Idon’tknowwhymyheartispoundinglikeit’llbemyfirsttimeseeingAtlaswithoutclothes.It’snotlikeI’mbrand-newtothis,orhim,oreventoshoweringwithhim.ButeverytimeI’mwithhim,it’slikemyheartgetsamnesia.
Imakeittothedoorwayofhisbathroom,disappointedtoseethathisshowerishiddenbehindhalfofastonewall.Icanhearthebreaksandsplashesintheshowerstream,andIfeelatighteningineverycurveofmybody.
Idon’tleavemyclotheswithhis.Istaydressedandslowlymakemywayovertotheshower.Ipressmybackflushagainstthelongwallofhisbathroom,andIinchclosertotheshoweropening,leaningmyheadinjustenoughtogetapeekathim.
Atlasisstandingunderthestreamofwater,hiseyesclosed,thewatercomingdowndirectlyonhisfaceasherunshisfingersthroughhishair.IstayquietandstillandcontinueleaningagainstthewallwhileIwatchhim.
HeknowsI’mhere,butheignoresmypresenceandallowsmetosoakupthesightofhim.Iwanttorunmyhandsovertheriseandfallofmusclesacrosshisshoulders,andIwanttokissthedimplesinhislowerback.Heisabsolutelybeautiful.
Onceherinsesallthesoapoutofhishairandoffhisface,helookstowardme.Hiseyescatchmine,andtheynarrow.Darken.Thenhefacesme,mygazefalling,falling…
“Lily.”
Myeyesmovebackuptohis,andhe’ssmirking.Then,soquickly,hestridesacrossthewettileandyanksmeawayfromthewalluntilI’mwrappedinhisarms.Hepullsmeintotheshowerwithhim,andIgaspfromtherushofitall.
Hecatchesmygaspinhismouthashegripsmythighs,pullingmywet-blue-jean-coveredlegsaroundhim.Mybackmeetstheshowerwall,takingsomeofmyweightoffAtlassothathecanfreeupahand.
Heusesthatfreehandtounbuttonmyshirt.
Iusebothofminetohelphim.Westopkissinglongenoughforhimtolowermetomyfeetsothathecansliptheshirtdownmyarms.TheshirtplopsagainsttheshowerfloorwithasmallsplashjustasAtlas’sfingersmeetthebuttononmyjeans.
Hismouthishungryandbackonmineasheslideshishandsbetweenmyhipsandmypanties,tuggingmyclothesdownonedifficultinchatatime.
Hegripsthewaistbandonthesidesofmyjeansandlowershimselfdownmybodyasheworkstoslidethemoffme.Oncethey’rearoundmyankles,Ihelphimbykickingthemoff,thenheplaceshishandsonthebacksofmycalvesandslowlyworkshiswaybackupme.
Whenhe’sfullystandingagain,hisfingersgatherbehindmybackattheclaspofmybra.Mystomachclenchesashebeginstounfastenit.Hismouthfindsmineagain,butthiskissisgentleandslow,liketheremovalofthislastpieceofclothingdeservestobesavored.
Ifeelhishandsslidetomyshoulders,andthenhetuckshisfingersbeneaththestrapsandslipsthemdownmyarms.Mybrabeginstofallawayfromme,andAtlaspullsawayfrommymouthlongenoughtoadmireme.Hishandcurvesovermyhip,andthenslidesovermyass,squeezingme.
Iwrapmyarmsaroundhisneckandslidemylipsacrosshisjaw,settlingmymouthoverhisear.“Thenwhat?”
Iwatchaschillsbreakoutoverhisarms.Hegroans,andthenliftsmehigherupthewalluntilwe’realignedatthewaist.Irollmyhipsintohim,wantingtofeelhimhardagainstme,andhemeetsmymovementwithaquickthrust,forcingmetogasp.It’sobviouswebothwantthis,buthestilllooksatmeforpermissionbeforehetakesmerighthereintheshower.We’vehadtheproperconversationsaboutmybeingonbirthcontrol,andbothofushavingbeentested,soIjustnodandwhisperadesperate“Yes.”
Igriphisshoulderstighterinanattempttotakemoreweightoffhisarmssothathecanpositionhimselftopushintome.Heuseshisleftarmtoholdmeupandhisrighthandtogriphimself,andthenherollshishipsforwardandupuntilIfeelthepressureofhiminsideofme.
HesighsintomyneckatthesametimeIreleaseallthebreathinmychest.Itcomesoutlikeamoan,andthatsoundencouragesAtlastogetthatnoiseoutofmeagain.
Mylegsaretightaroundhiswaist,buthethrustsagainstmehardenoughforthemtounlockattheankles.Istarttoslipdownhim,buthehoistsmebackupandrepositionshimselfuntilI’mfilledwithhimalloveragain.
Ireleaseanothermoan,andherollsintomeasecondtime,andathirdtime,anditmaynotbeasgracefulagainstawater-soakedshowerwallasitisinabed,butIcan’tgetenoughoftheunrulysideofhim.
Hegivesmethatunrulysideofhimforseveralminutesbeforewe’rebothtooweakandbreathlesstocontinuethiswithoutthesupportofabed.Hedoesn’tsayanythingafterhepullsoutofmeandlowersmetomyfeet.Hejustturnsoffthewaterandthengrabsatowel.Hestartsatmyhair,squeezingwateroutofitwithbothhishands,andthenheslowlyworkshiswaydownmybodywiththetoweluntilI’mdryenough.Hedoesaquickswipeofhimselfwiththetowelbeforegrabbingmyhandandwalkingmeoutofthebathroom.
Idon’tknowhowsomethingassimpleashimholdingmyhandonourwaytothebedroomcanmakemyheartexpand.
Atlasliftstheblanketandmotionsformetoclimbintohisbed.It’ssocomfortable,itfeelslikeI’mnestlingintoacloud.Hescootsinnexttome,stoppingonlywhenhecan’tcomeevenacentimeterclosertome.He’sonhisside,butherollsmesothatI’mflatonmyback,tuckedagainsthim.
Ilikethisposition.Ilikethewayhe’sholdinghimselfuponhiselbow,hoveringoverme.Iliketheslightgrininhiseyes,asifI’marewardhe’searned.
Atlaslowershimselfandwe’renolongereasingintothesekisses.It’sanimmediatedeepandhungrykissthatstartswiththediveofhistongueandendswithhimimpressivelyreachingforacondomandputtingitonwithoutinterruptingthestrengthofhiskiss.Atlasgripstheinsideofmythighandpushesmylegasidetomakeroomforhimself.
Thenhe’saboveme,pushingintome,andhemovesagainstmeuntilIfindmyselfinthemiddleofabeautifulfallingapart.
Atlasisonhisbackonthebed,andI’mcurledintohim,mylegdrapedoverhisthigh.ThesearethemomentsIlookforwardtosharingwithhimthemost.Thequietminuteswegettostealfromthechaosofourlives,whereit’sjustthetwoofus,satiated,content.Myheadisrestingonhischest,hisfingersaretrailingbackandforthovermyarm.
Hekissesthetopofmyheadandsays,“Howlonghasitbeensinceweranintoeachotheronthestreet?”
“Fortydays,”Isay.I’vebeencounting.
Hemakesahuhsound,likethatsurpriseshim.
“Why?Doesitfeellonger?”
“No,Ijustwantedtoknowifyou’vebeencountinglikeIhave.”
Ilaughandpressmylipsagainsthisskin,rightoverhisheart.
“Howwerethingsatthepartytoday?”heasksme.Iknowwhathe’saskingwithouthimhavingtosayit.HewantstoknowhowRyletreatedme.
“Thepartywasgood.IspoketoRyleformaybefiveseconds.”
“Washeunkind?”
“No.Wejuststayedoutofeachother’sway,mostly.”
Atlasrunshisfingersthroughmyhair,pullingthemthroughthestrandsandlettingthemfallovermyback.Hetakesanotherhandfulandrepeatsthemovement.“That’sprogress.Hopefullyit’lljustgeteasierfromhere.”
“Hopefully.”IdohopethingsbetweenRyleandIcontinuetogeteasier,butI’mnolongerlettinghisreactionscontrolmyhappiness.I’mall-inwithAtlas,andIwanttobepresentinthatpartofmylife.IfthatmakesRyleupsetoruncomfortable,Ryleisgoingtohavetobeartheburdenofthosefeelings.“ImightaskAllysatohaveasit-downwithmeandRylethisweek.Iwanttodiscusswhathappened,andwhattodogoingforward,butIdon’twanttodiscussitwithhimalone.”
“That’ssmart.”
RyleandImaynevergettoapointwherewecanbemorethanmerelycivil.ButI’dbeokaywithcivil.WhatI’mnotokaywitharetheinsults,thethreateningtexts,theoutbursts.He’sgotalotofworktodo,andI’mfinallywillingtoholdhimtotask.
Iprobablyshouldhavebeenfirmerearlieron,butI’vebeentryingtomakeitworkintheleastdramaticwaypossible.ButI’mdonebendingmyownlifeforRyle’ssake.
Myloyaltyistothepeoplewhobringpositivityintomylife.Myloyaltyistothepeoplewhowanttobuildmeupandseemehappy.ThosearethepeopleI’mgoingtomakedecisionsaboutmylifefor.
I’mgoingtocontinuedoingthebestIcan,andthat’sallIcando.Imaynothavemadealltherightdecisionsintherighttimeframes,butthefactthatIfoundthecouragetomakethosedecisionsatalliswhatI’mgoingtokeepfocusingon.
Atlasslipsafingerbeneathmychin,tiltingmyheadbacksothatI’mlookingathim.He’sgotthislookonhisfacelikehe’srightwherehewantstobe.“Ican’ttellyouhowmuchI’veenjoyedthis,”hesays.Hepullsmecloser,slidingmeuphischestsothatI’meyetoeyewithhim.Hecaressesthesideofmyhead.“IwishIcouldhaveyouinmybedlikethiseverynight.IwanttoshowerwithyouandcookwithyouandwatchTVwithyouandgogroceryshoppingwithyou.Iwanteverythingwithyou.Ihatethatwehavetopretendlikewedon’talreadyknowwe’respendingtherestofourlivestogether.”
It’sincrediblehowfastaheartratecandouble.Islidemyfingersoverhislips.“Wearen’tpretending.Wearegoingtospendtherestofourlivestogether.”
“Howlongdowehavetowaituntilwestart?”
“Fromthelooksofit,we’vealreadystarted,”Isay.
“HowlongdoIhavetowaitbeforeIaskyoutomoveinwithme?”
Heatswirlsinmystomach.“Sixmonths,atleast.”
Henodsasifhe’stakingmentalnotes.“AndhowlongbeforeI’mallowedtopropose?”
Athicknessformsinmythroat,makingithardtoswallow.“Ayear.Yearandahalf.”
“Ayearfromwhenwemoveintogetherorayearfromnow?”
“Fromnow.”
Hegrins,pullingmeflatagainsthim.“Goodtoknow.”
Ican’thelpbutlaughintohisneck.“Thatwasasurprisingconversation.”
“Yeah,mytherapistisgoingtokillmewhenItellhimaboutit.”
I’msmilingasIrolloffhimandlayonmyside.IsnuggleintothecrookofhisarmandrunmyfingersoverAtlas’schest,andthentrailthemovertheridgesofhisstomach.Hismusclesclenchandtwitchbeneathmyfingernails.“Doyouworkout?”
“WhenIcan.”
“Itshows.”
Atlaslaughslightheartedly.“Areyoutryingtoflirtwithme,Lily?”
“Yes.”
“Idon’tneedcompliments.You’renakedandinmybed.Notmuchelseyouneedtodo;youwonmeoveryearsago.”
Iliftmyheadandsmirk,likethat’sachallenge.“Youdon’tthinkso?”
Heshakeshishead,smilinglazily.Herunshisthumbovermybottomlip.“PrettysureIamfilledtocapacity.IthinkImayhaveevenreachedenlightenmenttonight.”
Ikeepmyeyeslockedwithhis,butIreadjustmyself,andthenIslowlystarttoslidedownhisbody.“IthinkIcanstillimpressyou,”Iwhisper.HereleasesadeepexhalewhenIpressakisstohisstomach.Mygazeisstillonhisface,andIlovethathisexpressionbeginstotightenwhilehewatchesme.
HeswallowswhenIstarttomovethesheetaside,untilhe’snolongercoveredbelowthewaist.Hiseyesdarken.“Fuck,Lily.”
Heallowshisheadtofallbackagainsthispillowassoonasmytongueslidesupthelengthofhim.
HegroanswhenItakehiminmymouth,andthenIprovehimverywrong.ChapterTwenty-NineAtlas
Ican’tgetenoughofher,butIthinkit’sokaybecauseshecan’tseemtogetenoughofme.Shewokemeupthismorningbyslidingontopofmeandkissingmyneck.
Sheendeduponherbacksecondslaterwithmymouthbetweenherthighs.
Maybewe’resohungryforeachotherbecauseweknowit’srarethatwe’llgetdayslikethis.Ormaybeit’sbecausewe’vemissedeachotherforsomanyyears.
Ormaybethisisjustwhatthingsarelikewhenyou’reinlove.I’vebeenwithwomenasidefromLily,butI’mconvincedshe’stheonlyoneI’veevertrulyloved.
MyfeelingsforLilyareamplifiedunlikeanythingI’veeverexperienced.They’reevenmoreamplifiedthanthefeelingsIhadforherwhenwewereyounger.It’sdifferentnow—stronger,deeper,moreexciting.There’snowayinhellI’dwalkawayfromhernowlikeIdidbackthen.
IknowIwasinadifferentheadspaceentirelyattheageofeighteen,andthathadalottodowithwhyIdidn’tfeellikeIshouldstickaroundforher.ButI’mall-innow.Iabsolutelyhatetheideaoftakingitslow.Igetwhyweneedto,butIdon’thavetolikeit.Iwanthernearmeeveryday,becauseIfeelabsolutelyunfulfilledonthedaysIcan’tseeher.
Nowthatwe’vestayedthenighttogether,Ihaveafeelingtheacheisgoingtogetworse.I’mgoingtogrowirritablewhenIhavetogotoolongwithoutseeingher.She’sstandingrightnexttomewhilewebrushourteeth,butI’malreadydreadingthatshe’sabouttoleave.
MaybeifIoffertocookherbreakfast,I’llgetherforatleastanotherhour.
“Whydoyouhaveasparetoothbrush?”Lilyasksme.Shespitshertoothpasteintomysinkandwinksatme.“Youhaveovernightguestsalot?”
Ismileatherandrinsemymouth,butIdon’tanswerthatquestion.Ihavethattoothbrushforher,butIdon’twanttoadmitit.I’vemadealotofsmallmovesovertheyearsthatwereallexcusedwithjustincaseLily…
AftersheleftmyplaceacoupleofyearsagowhileshewashidingfromRyle,Iwentoutandboughtalotofthingsjustincasesheneededtocomeback.Anextratoothbrush,morecomfortablepillowsformyguestroom,achangeofclothesincasesheshowedupinanemergency.
IhadaLilyemergencykit,ifyouwill.Iguessnowit’smoreofaLilysleepoverkit.Andyes,IbroughtitalltothenewhousewithmewhenImoved.I’vealwayshadalittlebitofhopethatwe’denduptogethersomeday.
Hell,ifI’mbeinghonestwithmyself,I’vehadagreatdealofhope.I’vebasedalotofmydecisionsonthepossibilitythatLilymightcomebackintomylife.IevenchosethishouseoveranotheroneIwasconsidering,simplybecauseofthebackyard.ItlookedlikeabackyardLilywouldfallinlovewith.
Iwipemymouthonahandtowelandthenhandittohertouse.“CanImakeyoubreakfastbeforeyougo?”
“Yeah,butkissmefirst.ItastebetterthanIdidthismorning.”ShestandsonhertiptoesandIwrapmyarmsaroundherandlifthertherestofthewaytomymouth.IkissherwhileIwalkheroutofthebathroomandthendropherontomymattress.Ihoveroverher.
“Youwantpancakes?Crepes?Anomelet?Biscuitsandgravy?”Beforeshecananswerme,mydoorbellrings.“Joshishome.”Igiveheraquickpeck.“Helikespancakes.Willthatwork?”
“Ilovepancakes.”
“Pancakesitis.”IwalktothelivingroomandunlockthedoorforJosh.Iopenit,andthenIimmediatelyfreezeatthesightofmymother.
Isigh,frustratedIdidn’tusethepeephole.
Shelooksatmeflatly,herarmsfoldedacrossherchest.“Igotavisitfromacaseworkeryesterday.”Hereyesareaccusing,butatleastsheisn’tyelling.
IamnotabouttodothiswithLilyhere.Istepoutsideandtrytoclosethedoor,butmymotherslapsitopen.“Josh,getouthere!”sheyellsintothehouse.
“Heisn’there.”Ikeepmyvoicelow.
“Whereishe?”
“Atafriend’shouse.”Ipullmyphoneoutofmypocketandcheckthetime.Bradsaidhe’dhaveJoshherebyten,andit’stenfifteen.Pleasedon’tlethimshowupwhileSuttonishere.
“Callhim,”shedemands.
ThedooriswideopenfromwhenSuttonpushedit,soIcanseeoutofthecornerofmyeyewhenLilyemergesfromthehallway.
ThisisnothowIwantedmymorningwithLilytoend.Icanfeeltheregretslideallthewaythroughme.Ishootheranapologeticlook,andthengivemyattentionbacktoSutton.
“Whatdidthecaseworkersay?”Iaskher.
Hermouthscrewsintoatighttwist,andthenshelookstoherleft.“They’renotevenopeninganinvestigation.Ifyoudon’treturnhimtometoday,I’llfilecharges.”
IknowthestepsChildProtectiveServiceshastotakeduringaninvestigation,andtheyhaven’tevencontactedJoshforaninterviewyet.“You’relying.I’dlikeyoutoleave.”
“I’llleavewhenIhavemyson.”
Iexhale.“Hedoesn’twanttolivewithyourightnow.”Orever,butIsavethatsting.
“Hedoesn’twanttolivewithme,”sherepeatswithalaugh.“Whatkidthatagewantstolivewiththeirparents?Andhowmanyparentshaven’tslappedakidthatage?Theydon’tendcustodyoverthat.JesusChrist.”Shefoldsherarmsoverherchestagain.“Theonlyreasonyou’redoingthisistogetbackatme.”
Ifsheknewme,shewouldknowI’mnotvengefullikesheis.Butofcourse,theconclusionshecomesupwithissomethingthatonlyfitsherownpersonality.“Doyoumisshim?”Iaskher,myvoicecalm.“Honestly.Doyoumisshim?Becauseifyou’redoingthistoprovesomethingtosomeone,justletitgo.Please.”
Brad’scarturnsontothestreet,andIwishtherewereawayIcouldaskhimtokeepdriving.Buthe’spullinguptothecurbbeforeIcanevenreachmyphone.SuttonfollowsmylineofsightandseesJoshopeningthebackdoorofBrad’scar.
Sheimmediatelywalkstowardthecar,butJoshpauseswhenheseesher.Morelikefreezes.Hedoesn’tknowwhattodo.
Suttonsnapsherfingersandpointsathercar.“Let’sgo.We’releaving.”
Joshimmediatelylooksatme.Ishakemyheadandmotionforhimtocomeinside.Bradcansensesomethingisoff,soheputsthecarinparkandopenshisdoor.
Joshduckshisheadandwalksdirectlyacrosstheyard,pastSutton,andrushestowardme.Suttonishotonhistrail,soItrytogetJoshinsidequickenoughtoclosethedooronher,butshe’stoofast.I’mnotabouttoinjureherwiththedoor,soIjustletherinside.
Iguesswe’redoingthisnow.
IwavetoBradtolethimknowhecango,andthenIlookatLily,whoisstandingagainstawall,watchingeverythingunfoldwithasurprisedlookonherface.
Imouth,I’msorry
Joshtosseshisbackpackonthefloorandsitsdownonthecouch,firmlyfoldinghisarms.“I’mnotgoingwithyou,”hesaystoSutton.
“Thisisn’tuptoyou.”
Joshlooksdirectlyatme,pleading.“YousaidIcouldstayhere.”
“Youcan.”
SuttonshootsdaggersatmelikeI’moutofline.MaybeIam.Maybeit’snotmybusinesstobegettinginthewayofamotherandherchild,butsheshouldhavethoughttwiceaboutthatbeforeshemademethatchild’sbrother.Ican’tturntheotherwayandjusthopehemakesitoutokay.
“Ifyoudon’tcomewithme,I’llhaveyourbrotherarrested.”
Joshslapshishandsonthecouchandpusheshimselfup.“Whycan’titbemychoice?”heyells.“WhydoIhavetolivewitheitheroneofyou?I’vetoldyoubothIwanttolivewithmydad,butnoonewillhelpmefindhim!”Josh’svoicecracks,andthenhe’smarchingdownthehallway.Theslamofhisdoormakesmeflinch…ormaybeitwaswhathesaidbeforerunningtohisroom.
Eitherway,Ifeelpunctured.
Suttoncanseethestingbecauseshe’sstaringatme,assessingmyreactiontothat.
Thenshestartstolaugh.“Oh,Atlas.Youthoughtyouweredoingsomethinghere?Formingabondwithhim?”Sheshakesherheadandthrowsupherhandindefeat.“Takehimtohisdaddy.You’llberunningbacktomenextweek,justlikeyoudidthelasttimeyouneededmyhelp.”
Shewalkstothedoorandleaves,andI’mtoodazedbyeverythingthatjusthappenedtowalkoverandlockit.
Lilydoesitforme.
Shestartstowalktowardmewithafacefullofsympathy,butassoonasshepullsmeinforahug,Ishakemyheadandseparatemyselffromher.“Ineedaminute.”ChapterThirtyLily
Atlascloseshisbedroomdoorbehindhim,andIfindmyselfaloneinhislivingroom.
Ifeelawfulforbothofthem.Ican’tbelievethatwashismother.OrmaybeIcan.Afterhearingstoriesofher,Iimaginedhertobethatunhinged,butIguessIexpectedhertolookdifferent.BothAtlasandhisbrotherlooksomuchlikeherthatitmakesitdifficulttoseethatkindofbehaviorcomefromsomeoneAtlasisrelatedto.Theyarepolaropposites.
Itakeaseatontheedgeofthecouch,shockedthatIjustwitnessedallofthat.I’veneverseenAtlasthataffected.Iwanttogohughim,butIcanabsolutelyunderstandthatheneedsamomentalone.
Josh,too.Thepoorkid.
Idon’twanttoleavebeforesayinggoodbyetoAtlas,butIalsodon’twanttodisturbhimuntilhe’shadamomenttorecover.Iwalktothekitchenandopentherefrigerator.Ilookfortheingredientstomakebreakfastforthem.
Ikeptitsimplebecausethat’sallIreallyknowhowtodo.Imadescrambledeggsandbaconandputapanofbiscuitsintheoven.Whenthebiscuitsarealmostready,IgotaponJosh’sbedroomdoor.IcanatleastofferhimsomethingtoeatwhileIwaitforAtlastocomeoutofhisroom.
Joshopensthedoorabouttwoinchesandlooksatme.
“Youwantsomebreakfast?”Iaskhim.
“IsSuttongone?”
Inod,soheopensthedoorandfollowsmedownthehall.JoshgetshimselfsomethingtodrinkwhileIpullthebiscuitsoutandmakeusbothaplateofbreakfast.Isitacrossfromhimatthetable,andheeyesmewhileheeats.IfeellikeI’mbeingsizedup.
“Where’sEmerson?”heasks.
“She’swithheraunt.”
Joshnodsandtakesabiteofhisfood.Then:“Howlonghaveyouandmybrotherbeentogether?”
Ishrug.“Thatdepends.I’veknownhimsinceIwasfifteen,butwestarteddatingaboutamonthandahalfago.”
There’saflashofsurpriseonJosh’sface.“Really?Wereyou,like,friendsbackthenorsomething?”
“Orsomething.”Itakeasipofmycoffee,andthensetitdowncarefully.“Yourbrotherdidn’thaveanywheretolivewhenImethim,soIhelpedhimforawhile.”
Joshleansbackinhischair.“Really?Ithoughthelivedwithourmom.”
“Whensheandyourdadwouldallowit,”Isay.“Buthespentalotoftimetryingtosurvivewithouttheirhelp.”IhopeI’mnotsayingtoomuch,butIfeellikeJoshneedsabetterunderstandingofAtlas.“Goeasyonyourbrother,okay?Hecaresalotaboutyou.”
Joshstaresatmeforabeat,thennods.Heleansoverhisplateagain,takingabiteofbacon.Hedropsthebaconbackontotheplateandwipeshismouthwithanapkin.“Hiscookingisnormallybetterthanthis.”
Ilaugh.“That’sbecauseImadeit.”
“Oh,shit,”Joshsays.“Sorry.”
Idon’ttakeoffenseatallbecauseI’msurehe’sgettingusedtoAtlas’scooking.“Doyouthinkyouwanttobeacheflikehim?Hetoldmeyoulikehelpingoutattherestaurants.”
Joshshrugs.“Idon’tknow.It’sfun.Maybe.ButIfeellikeI’llgettiredofit.Heworksalotofnights.IfeellikeI’llgettiredofanycareerafterafewyears,though,soIdon’tknowwhatI’lldo.”
“SometimesIfeellikeIstilldon’tknowwhatIwanttobewhenIgrowup.”
“Ithoughtyouownedaflowershoporsomething.That’swhatAtlastoldme.”
“Ido.Beforethat,Iusedtoworkatamarketingfirm.”Ipushmyplateasideandfoldmyarmsonthetable.“Istillfeellikeyoudo,though.Worriedaboutboredom.Whyareweexpectedtopickonethingtotryandbesuccessfulat?WhatifIwanttodosomethingcompletelydifferenteveryfiveyears?”
Joshnodslikehe’sincompleteagreement.“Theteachersatschooltalklikewehavetodecideononethingweloveandstickwithit,butIwanttodoahundredthings.”
Ilovehowanimatedheisrightnow.HeremindsmesomuchofayoungerAtlas.“Likewhat?”
“Iwanttobeaprofessionalfisherman.Idon’tknowhowtofish,butitsoundsfun.AndIwanttobeachef.AndsometimesIthinkitwouldbefuntomakeamovie.”
“SometimesIdreamofsellingmyflowershopandopeningaclothingboutique.”
“Iwanttomakepotteryandsellitatfairs.”
“I’dliketowriteabooksomeday.”
“Iwanttobethecaptainofaship,”hesays.
“Ithinkitwouldbefuntobeanartteacher.”
“Ithinkitwouldbefuntobeabounceratastripclub.”
Isputterlaughteratthat,butI’mnottheonlyonelaughing.JoshandIglanceupatAtlas,whoisleaninginthedoorway,laughingatourconversation.
I’mrelievedtoseehiminabettermoodthantheonehismotherlefthimin.Atlassmilesatmewarmly.
“Lilymadeusbreakfast,”Joshsaystohim.
“Iseethat.”Atlaswalksoverandkissesmeonthecheek,thenpicksupapieceofbaconandtakesabite.
“Kindofsucks,”Joshmuttersinwarning.
“Don’tinsultmygirlfriendorI’llstopcookingforyou.”AtlasstealsthelastsliceofbaconoffJosh’splate.
“Theseeggsaregreat,Lily,”Joshsayswithfakeenthusiasm.
IlaughwhileAtlastakesaseatnexttome.AsmuchasIwanttospendtheentiredayherewithhim,I’vealreadystayedlongerthanIintended.
ItalsofeelslikeheandJoshhavealottoworkouttoday.
“Ihavetogo,”Isayregretfully.Atlasnods,andIscootbackfromthetable.“I’mgonnagograbmystuff.”Iwalktothebedroom,butIdon’tcloseAtlas’sdoor,soIheartheirconversationasI’mpackingmybag.
Atlassays,“Youfeelliketakingaroadtriptoday?”
“Whereto?”Joshasks.
“Ifoundyourdad’saddress.”
IpausegatheringmythingsandwalkclosertothedoorsoIcanhearJosh’sresponse.
“Youdid?”There’sanewexcitementinJosh’svoice.“Doesheknowwe’recoming?”
“No,Ionlygothisaddress.Idon’tknowhowtogetintouchwithhim.Butyouwereright:He’sinVermont.”IcanhearthedreadAtlasisattemptingtocoverupinhisvoiceallthewayfromhisbedroom.God,Ihatethisforhim.
IhearJoshrunningtowardhisroom.“Heisgoingtobesoshocked!”
Ifinishpackingwithaheavierheart.WhenIwalkbackintothekitchen,Atlasisstandinginfrontofthesink,staringoutthewindowintohisbackyard.Hedoesn’thearme,soIputmyhandonhisshoulder.
Heimmediatelypullsmeinandkissesmeonthesideofmyhead.“I’llwalkyoutoyourcar.”
Hecarriesmybagtothecarandplacesitinthebackseat.Iopenmydoor,butwehugagainbeforeIclimbinside
ThisisthekindofhugAtlasgavemewhenheshowedupatmyapartmentneedingahugthatnight.It’slongandsad,andIdon’twanttoletgoofhim.“Whatdoyouthinkisgoingtohappenwhenyougetthere?”Iask.
Atlasfinallyreleasesme,butkeepshishandonmyhipwhileheleansagainstmycar.Hesighs,threadinghisfingerthroughabeltlooponmyjeans.“Idon’tknow.WhydoIfeelsoworriedforhim?”
“Becauseyoulovehim.”
Atlas’seyesscrollovermyface.“IsthatwhyIalwaysfeelworriedforyou?BecauseIloveyou?”
Mybreathhitchesathisquestion.“Idon’tknow.Doyou?”
Atlasdigshisfingersintomywaist,andhepullsmetohim.Heliftshishandandtracesafingerdownmyneck,untilitmeetsmytattoo.“I’velovedyouforyearsandyearsandyears,Lily.Youknowthat.”Hemoveshisfingerandthenkissesmethere,andthatmovecoupledwithhiswordstakeseverythinginmetokeepmycomposure.
“I’velovedyouforjustaslong.”
Atlasnods.“Iknowyouhave.Nooneonthisearthlovesmelikeyoudo.”Hecradlesmyheadinbothofhishands,andhetiltsmyfaceuptohisandhekissesme.Whenhepullsback,helooksatmelongingly,likeI’vealreadyleftandhe’salreadysadaboutit.Ormaybethat’sjustwhatI’mimagininghefeels,sincethat’swhatIfeel.
“I’llcallyoutonight.Iloveyou.”
“Iloveyou,too.Goodlucktoday.”
Idrivehomewithsuchconflictedfeelings.EverymomentwithhimoverthislastdaywasmorethanIcouldhavehopedfor,butknowingwhathe’sabouttofacemakesmyheartfeellikeapieceofitbrokeoffandstayedwithhim.
I’mgoingtobethinkingabouthimallday.I’mhopingtheydon’tfindTim,butiftheydo,IhopeJoshmakestherightdecision.ChapterThirty-OneAtlas
It’sathree-hourdrivethere.Joshhasn’tsaidmuch.He’sbeenreading,althoughifhe’sasnervousasIamaboutthis,I’mnotsurehe’sactuallyabsorbinganythinghe’sreading.He’sbeenonthesamepageforfiveminutes.It’sadrawingofwhatlookslikeabattlescene,butmostlyallIseeiscleavage.
“Isthatmangaappropriateforatwelve-year-old?”Iaskhim.
HeshiftseversoslightlysothatthecoverofthebookisallIcansee.“Yes.”
Hisvoicedroppedanentireoctaveonthatlie.Atleasthe’sahorribleliar.Ifheendsupstayingwithme,detectingwhenheisorisn’ttellingmethetruthshouldbeeasy.
Ifheendsupstayingwithme,maybeIshouldbuyhimafewself-helpbooksforbalance.I’llstockhisbookshelveswithwhatevergraphicnovelshewants,andthensecretlyslipinafewofmyowntosupplementmylackofskillsasaguardian.Untamed,ManEnough,TheSubtleArtofNotGivingaF*ck.Heck,maybeevensomesacredtextfromeverymajorworldreligion.I’lltakewhateverhelpIcanget.
Especiallyaftertoday.AsmuchasJoshmaythinkthisisaone-waytrip,Iknowinmyhearthe’scomingrightbacktoBostonwithme.Ijusthopehedoesn’tcomebackkickingandscreaming.
WhentheGPSsayswe’returningontothestreet,Josh’shandtightensaroundhismanga.Hedoesn’tlookupfromit,though,eventhoughhestillhasn’tturnedthepage.WhenIspotTim’saddressonthecurbinfrontofarun-downframehouse,Ipullthecarover.Thehouseisacrossthestreetonthedriver’sside,butJoshpretendstobesunkintohisstory.
“We’rehere.”
Joshdropshisbookandfinallylooksup.Ipointtothehouse,andJoshstaresatitforagoodtenseconds.Thenheputsthebookinhisbackpack.
Hebroughtmostofhisthingswithhim.TheclothesIboughthim,someofthebooks.They’reallstuffedsotightinabackpackthatbarelyzips,andheholdsitinhislapwiththehopethathehasatleastoneparentthatwilltakehim.
“Canwewaitalittlebit?”heasks.
“Sure.”
Whilehewaits,hefidgetswitheverything.Theairvents,hisseatbelt,themusiconhisBluetooth.TenminutespasswhileIpatientlygivehimthetimetoworkupwhatevercouragehe’sinneedofthatwillhelphimopenthedoor.
Ilookatthehouse,takingmyattentionoffJoshforawhile.There’sanoldwhiteFordinthedriveway,whichisprobablywhyJoshhasn’tworkedupthecouragetowalkacrossthestreetandknockonhisdooryet.It’sanindicatorthatsomeoneisprobablyhome.
Ihaven’ttriedtotalkhimoutofthisbecauseIknowwhatit’sliketowanttoknowyourfather.He’sgoingtoliveinthisfantasyuntilhe’sabletoconfronthisreality.Asakid,Ihadthehighesthopesforfamily,too,butafteryearsofbeingdisappointed,Irealizedthatjustbecauseyou’rebornintoagroupofpeople,thatdoesn’tmakethemyourfamily.
“ShouldIjustgoknock?”Joshfinallyasks.He’sscared,andtobehonest,I’mnotfeelingthebravestrightnow,either.IwentthroughalotwithTim.I’mnotlookingforwardtoseeinghimagain,andIamabsolutelydreadingthepotentialoutcomeofthismeeting
Idon’tthinkthisisthebestplaceforJosh,andI’minnopositiontotellhimhecan’treconnectwithhisfather.Butmybiggestfearisthathe’sgoingtochoosetostayhere.ThatTimisgoingtobelikemymotherandwelcomeJoshwithopenarms,simplybecauseheknowsit’stheonethingIdon’twanttohappen.
“Icangowithyouifyouwant,”Isay,eventhoughit’sthelastthingIwanttodo.I’llhavetostandinfrontofthatmanandpretendIdon’twanttopunchhimforthesakeofmylittlebrother.
Joshdoesn’tmoveforawhile.I’mstaringatmyphone,attemptingtoappearpatientasheworksupcourage,butIwanttothrowthecarindriveandgethimoutofhere.
IeventuallyfeelJosh’sfingerbrieflygrazeanoldscaronmyarm,soIlookoverathim.He’sstaringatmyarm,takinginthefadedscarsthatremainfromtheshitIenduredlivingwithSuttonandTim.Joshhasneveraskedmeaboutthescars,though.
“DidTimdothattoyou?”
Iclenchmyarmandnod.“Yeah,butitwasalongtimeago.Howhetreatsasonmightbecompletelydifferentfromhowhetreatedastepson.”
“Thatshouldn’tmatter,right?Ifhetreatedyoulikethat,whyshouldhegetanotherchancewithme?”
It’sthefirsttimeJoshhascomeclosetoadmittinghisfatherisn’tahero.
Idon’twanttobethepersonheblamesinthefuturefornothavingarelationshipwithhisdad,butIwanttotellhimhe’sright.Hisfathershouldn’tgetanotherchance.Heleftandneverlookedback.There’snoexcusegoodenoughtowalkawayfromyourson.
There’sthistoxicbeliefthatfamilyshouldsticktogethersimplybecausethey’refamily.ButthebestthingIeverdidformyselfwaswalkawayfromthem.ItscaresmetothinkofwhereImightbehadInotdonethat.ItscaresmetothinkofwhereJoshmightendupifhedoesn’tdothat.
Joshlookspastme,towardthehouse.Hiseyesgrowalittlewider,promptingmetoturnandlook.
Timisoutside,makinghiswayfromthefrontdoortohistruck.JoshandIwatchinmutuallystunnedsilence.
Helooksfragile—olderandsmaller.Ormaybethat’sbecauseI’mnolongerakid.
He’sswiggingfromthelastofabeercanwhenheopensthefrontdoortohistruck.Hetossestheemptycanintothebedandthenleansinsidehiscabinsearchofsomething.
“Idon’tknowwhattodo,”Joshwhispers.Heseemsallofthetwelveyearsoldthatheisrightnow.Itkindofbreaksmyhearttoseehimsonervous.Josh’seyesarepleadingfortruthwhenhelooksbackatme,likeheneedsmetoguidehiminthismoment.
I’veneversaidabadwordaboutTimtoJosh,butknowingI’mnotbeingcompletelyhonestwithhimaboutmyfeelingsfeelslikeI’mdoingadisservicetohimasabrother.Maybemysilenceonthematterismoredamagingthanmytruthwouldbe.
Isighandsetmyphonedown,givingthismomentmyfullattention.Notthatitdidn’thavemyfullattentionbefore,butIwastryingtogiveJoshspace.Itdoesn’tseemlikehewantsit,though.Hewantsbrutalhonesty,andwhatelseisanolderbrothergoodforifnotforthat?
“Idon’tknowmydad,”Iadmit.“Iknowhisname,butthat’saboutit.SuttonsaidheleftwhenIwasyoung,probablyaboutthesameageyouwerewhenTimleft.Itusedtobotherme,notknowingmyfather.Iusedtoworryabouthim.Iimaginedtherewassomethingawfulthatwaskeepinghimaway,likehewaslockedupinaprisonsomewhereonawrongfulconviction.IusedtocomeupwiththesewildscenariosthatwouldexcusehowhecouldknowIexistedbutnotbeinmylife.Becausewhatkindofmancouldhaveasonandnotwanttoknowhim?”
JoshisstillstaringacrosstheyardatTim,butIcanseethathe’ssoakingupeverywordI’msaying.
“Myfatherneversentapennyofchildsupport.Henevermadeaneffortatall.MyfatherneverbotheredtodoaGooglesearch,becauseifhehad,hewouldhaveeasilyfoundme.Hell,youdidthatattheageoftwelve.Youfoundme,andyou’reakid.He’sagrown-assadult.”
ImovesothatIhaveJosh’sfullattention.“SoisTim.Heisacapable,grownman,andifhecaredaboutanythingmorethanhimself,hewouldhavemadeaneffort.Heknowsyourname,heknowswhatcityyoulivein,heknowshowoldyouare.”
Josh’seyesarestartingtotearup
“Itblowsmymindthatthismanhasyouforason,andyouwanttobeinhislife,yethestillhasn’tmadeaneffort.You’reaprivilege,Josh.Believeme,ifI’dknownyouexisted,Iwouldhaveknockedoverbuildingstofindyou.”
AssoonasIsaythat,ateartricklesoutofhiseye,soJoshquicklylooksouthispassengerwindow,awayfromTim’shouse,awayfromme.Iseehimwipeathiseyes,anditbreaksmyheart.
Italsomakesmeangryashellthattheykepthimfrommeknowingly.MymotherknewIwouldhavebeenagoodbrothertohim,whichiswhyshechosenottoletusbeapartofeachother’slives.Sheknewmyloveforhimwouldoutweightheloveshewascapableof,sosheselfishlykeptusapart.
ButIdon’twantmyangerformymotherorTimorevenmyfathertobleedintoJosh’sdecision.He’soldenoughtomakeuphisownmind,sohecantakemyhonestyandhishope,andI’llsupporthiminwhateverhedecidestodowiththosethings.
WhenJoshfinallylooksbackatme,hiseyesarestillfilledwithtearsandquestionsandindecision.He’slookingatmelikeIneedtobetheonetomakethisdecisionforhim.
Ijustshakemyhead.“Theytooktwelveyearsfromus,Josh.Idon’tthinkIcanforgivethemforthat,butIwon’tbeupsetifyoudowanttoforgivethem.Ionlyeverwanttobehonestwithyou,butyouareyourownperson,andifyouwanttogiveyourfatherachancetogettoknowyou,I’llputasmileonmyfaceandwalkyoustraighttohisfrontdoor.YoujustletmeknowhowtobehereforyouandI’llbehere.”
Joshnodsanduseshisshirttowipeawayanothertear.Heinhales,andonhisexhale,hesays,“Hehasatruck.”
Idon’tknowwhathemeansbythat,butIfollowhislineofsightbacktoTim’struck.
“AllthistimeIimaginedhimtobereallypoor,withoutawaybacktoBoston,”hesays.“Ieventhoughtmaybehenevercamebecausehewasn’tphysicallyabletodrive,likemaybehisvisionwastoobadorsomething.Idon’tknow.Buthehasatruckandhenevereventried.”
Idon’tinterferewithhisthoughtprocess.Ijustwanttobehereforhimwhenhefinalizesit.
“Hedoesn’tdeserveme,doeshe.”Hesaysitlikeastatementratherthanaquestion.
“Neitherofthemdeservesyou.”
Hedoesn’tmoveforanentireminuteashestarespastmeoutthewindow.Butthenhelooksatmefirmly,sittingalittletaller.“YouknowthathomeworkI’mbehindon?Thefamilytree?”Joshpullsathisseatbeltandbeginstofastenit.“Theyneversaidhowbigthetreeneededtobe.I’lljustdrawababyseedling.Theydon’thavebranches.”Hepatsthedash.“Let’sgo.”
Ilaughhardatthat.Iwasn’texpectingit.Thewaythiskidweaveshumorintothemostdepressingmomentsgivesmehopeforhim.Ithinkhe’sgonnabeokay.
“Aseedling,huh?”Istartthecarandpullonmyownseatbelt.“Thatmightwork.”
“Icandrawaseedlingwithtwotinybranches.Yoursandmine.We’llbeonourownbrand-new,tinyfamilytree—onethatstartswithus.”
Ifeelheatbehindmyeyes,soIgrabmysunglassesoffthedashandputthemon.“Awholenewfamilytreethatstartswithus.Ilikeit.”
Henods.“Andwe’lldoamuchbetterjobofkeepingitalivethanourshittyparentsdid.”
“Thatshouldn’tbetoohard.”Iamabsolutelyrelievedbythisdecision.Joshmaychangehismindinthefuture,butIhaveastrongsuspicionthatevenifhecontactshisfathergoingforward,he’snevergoingtochoosehimoverme.Joshremindsmealotofmyself,anddevotionisatraitwehaveinspades.
“Atlas?”JoshsaysmynamerightasIputthecarindrive.
“Yeah?”
“CanIfliphimoff?”
IstarebackatTimandhistruckandhishouse.It’sanimmaturerequest,butoneIhappilyrespondtowith,“Pleasedo.”
Joshleansasfartowardmywindowashisseatbeltwillallow.Irolldownthewindowandhonkthehorn.TimlooksoveratusrightasIstarttodriveaway.
Joshflipshimoffandyells,“Asshole,”outmywindow.Oncewe’reoutofTim’seyesight,Joshfallsbackagainsthisseat,laughing.
“It’sasshole,Josh.Oneword.”
“Asshole,”hesays,pronouncingitthecorrectway.
“Thankyou.Nowstopsayingit.You’retwelve.”ChapterThirty-TwoLily
Areyouathome?
ThetextisfromAtlas,soIrespondtoitwith,Foraminute.Why?
IpackbabyfoodintoEmmy’sdiaperbagandthenrusharoundtheroom,grabbingherachangeofclothes.Ithrowacanofformulainaswell,sinceI’mnolongerbreastfeeding,andthenIscoopherup.“YoureadytogoseeRylee?”
EmmysmileswhenIsayRylee’sname
WhenIpickedherupthismorningfromAllysa’s,IhadatalkwithbothherandMarshallabouteverythingthat’shappenedwithRyle.Allysaagreedthatitwassmarttoshowmylawyerthetextshesentme.Shealsoagreedthatit’stimewehaveaserioussit-downwithRyle.I’mnervous,butknowingsheandMarshallhavemybackisextremelyreassuring.
Assoonaswemakeittomyfrontdoor,there’saknock.Iglancethroughthepeephole,relievedtoseeAtlasstandingthere.ButJoshisn’twithhim,somyheartimmediatelysinks.DidheactuallychoosetostaywithhisfatheroverAtlas?Iswingopenthedoor.
“Whathappened?Where’sJosh?”
Atlassmiles,andtheassuranceinhissmilefillsmewithinstantrelief.“It’sfine.He’satmyhouse.”
Iblowoutabreath.“Oh.Whyareyouhere,then?”
“I’monmywaytomyrestaurant.IwasdrivingbyandthoughtI’drunupandstealahug.”
Ismile,andheholdsthedooropenforme.Hecan’tgivemeafull-onhugsinceIhaveEmersonperchedonmyhip,sohegivesmeaquickkissonthesideofmyhead.“Liar.Myapartmentisn’tonyourway.Andit’sSunday—yourrestaurantisclosed.”
“Details,”hesays,wavingoffmypoint.“Whereareyouheaded?”
“Allysa’s.We’rehavingdinnerwiththemtonight.”Ihoistthediaperbagontomyshoulder,buthetakesitfromme.
“I’llwalkyouout.”Heslingsthediaperbagoverhisshoulder.Emmyreachesforhim,andIthinkwe’rebothalittlesurprisedwhenshewillinglytransfersfrommyarmstohis.Shetucksherheadagainsthischest,andthesightofitmakesmepauseforasecond.ItmakesAtlastakeapause,too.Butthenhesmilesatmeandbeginswalkingdowntomycar.Heholdsmyhandthewholeway.
ItakeEmmyfromhimandbuckleherintohercarseat.We’refinallyinapositionwhereAtlascangivemeanactualhug,sohepullsmetohim.Hishugfeelslikeanentireconversation.He’sholdingmeinawaythatmakesitfeellikehe’sneedingstrength—likehewantstotakeapieceofmewithhim.“Whereareyougoingagain?”Iaskhim,pullingback.
“Ireallyamgoingtomyrestaurant,”hesays.“IaskedSuttontomeetmethere.WeneedtohaveaseriousdiscussionaboutJosh,andI’dliketodoitwhenit’sjustmeandher.Shefeedsoffanaudience,soIrefusetogiveherone.”
“Wow.I’mactuallyonmywaytoAllysa’stohavethatsit-downwithRyleItoldyouIwanted.Whatisthis,problem-solvingSunday?”
Atlaslaughssoftly.“Hopefully.”
Ikisshim.“Goodluck.”
Hesmilesgently.“Youtoo.Besafe,andcallmeassoonasyoucan.”Hepresseshismouthtomineonelasttime,andthenwhenhepullsaway,hesays,“Loveyou,babe.”
Hewalkstohiscar,andIdon’tknowwhyhiswordsleavemesoflustered,butI’msmilingasIgetintomycar.Loveyou,babe.I’mstillsmilingasIdriveaway.Mygoodmoodsurprisesme,consideringwhatI’monmywaytodo,andhowit’smoreofaspontaneousinterventionthanaplannedsit-down.IamgoingtoAllysaandMarshall’sfordinner,butRylehasnoideaI’mheadingovertherewithapurpose.
“Lasagna?”IaskMarshallwhenheopensthefrontdoor.Icouldsmellthegarlicandtomatoesfromthehallway.
“Allysa’sfavorite,”hesays,closingthedoorbehindme.HereachesforEmmy.“CometoUncleMarshall,”hesays,pullinghertohim.
She’sgigglingassoonashemakesafaceather.MarshallisoneofEmmy’sfavoritepeople,butIthinkwe’dbehard-pressedtofindakidwhodoesn’tloveMarshall.“IsAllysainthekitchen?”
Marshallnods.“Yeah.He’sinthere,too,”hesays,whispering.“Wedidn’tmentionyouwerecoming.”
“Okay.”IsetEmmy’sdiaperbagdownandheadforthekitchen.IseeRyleandAllysa’smothersittingwithRyleeinthelivingroomwhenIpassby.Iwaveather,andshesmiles,butIdon’tstoptochat.IgoinsearchofAllysa.
WhenIwalkthroughthekitchendoor,IfindRyleleaningoverthebar,chattingcasuallywithAllysa,butassoonashemakeseyecontactwithme,hisspinestiffensandhestandsupstraight
Idon’treactatall.Idon’twantRyletothinkheholdsanysortofcontrolovermeanymore.
Allysahasbeenexpectingme.Sheacknowledgesmewithanodandthensheclosesthelasagnaintheoven.“Perfecttiming.”Shedropsthepotholdersonthecounterandpointsatthetable.“Wehaveforty-fiveminutesuntilit’sready,”shesays,guidingbothRyleandmetowardthetable.
“Whatisthis?”Ryleasks,lookingbackandforthbetweenthetwoofus.
“Justaconversation,”Allysasays,urginghimtotakeaseat.RylerollshiseyesbutreluctantlytakesaseatacrossfrombothAllysaandme.Heleansbackinhischair,foldinghisarmsoverhischest.Allysalooksoveratme,givingmethefloor.
I’mnotsurewhyI’mnotscaredrightnow.MaybeAtlasalreadyhavinghadaconversationwithRylehasputmostofmyconcernstorest.HavingAllysaandMarshallintheapartmentwithusalsofeelslikealayerofprotection.AndRyle’smother,eventhoughshehasnocluewhat’sabouttotranspire.Rylekeepshisbehaviorincheckwhenhismotherisaround,soI’mgratefulforherpresence.
Whateverisgivingmestrengthrightnow,Idon’tsitandquestionit.Itakeadvantageofit.“YouaskedyesterdayifIspoketomylawyer,”IsaytoRyle.“Idid.Shehadsomesuggestions.”
Rylechewsonhisbottomlipforafewseconds.Thenheliftsabrow,indicatinghe’slistening.
“Iwantyoutoundergoangermanagement.”
Assoonasthewordscomeoutofmymouth,Rylelaughs.Hestandsup,preparedtopushinhischairandendthisconversation,butassoonashedoes,Allysasays,“Sitdown,please.”
Rylelooksather,andthenme,andthenbackather.Severalsecondspassashetakesinwhat’shappening.It’sapparenthefeelsdeceivedrightnow,butI’mnotheretogivehimempathy,andneitherishissister.
RylelovesandrespectsAllysa,soheeventuallyreturnstohisseat,despitehiscurrentanger.
“Whileyou’reundergoingangermanagement,IwouldpreferforyourvisitswithEmersontotakeplacehere,orsomewhereMarshallorAllysaarepresent.”
RyleswingshiseyestoAllysa,andthelookofbetrayalheshootsherwouldhavegivenmechillsatonepointinourpast,butrightnowthatlookdoesnothingtome.
Icontinue.“Dependingonyourinteractionswithmegoingforward,we’lldecideasafamilywhenwefeelcomfortablewithyouhavingunsupervisedvisitswiththegirls.”
“Thegirls?”Rylerepeatsincredulously,lookingatAllysa.“DidsheconvinceyouI’mnotsafearoundmyownniece?”Hisvoiceisloudernow.
Thekitchendoorswingsopen,andMarshallwalksin.HetakesaseatattheheadofthetableandlooksfromRyletoAllysa.“Yourmomhasthegirlsinthelivingroom,”hesaystoAllysa.“What’dImiss?”
“Areyouawareofthis?”RyleasksMarshall.
Marshallstaresathimforabeat,andthenleansforward.“AmIawareyoulostyourtemperwithLilylastweekandpinnedheragainstadoor?OramIawareofthetextsyousenther?Orthethreatsyoumadewhenshesaidshewastalkingtoherlawyer?”
RylestaresblanklyatMarshall.Hisfacereddens,buthedoesn’timmediatelyreact.He’strappedinacorner,andheknowsit.“Agoddamnintervention,”Rylemutters,shakinghishead.He’sannoyed,irritated,alittlebitbetrayed.Understandable.Buthecaneitheragreetocooperate,orhecanfracturethefewremainingrelationshipsleftinhislife.
Rylepegsmewithajadedstare.“Whatelse?”heasks,somewhatsmugly.
“I’vegivenyoumorethanenoughgrace,Ryle.YouknowIhave.Butfromthispointforward,pleaseknowthatEmersoniswhatmatterstome.Ifyoudoanythingthreateningorharmfultomeorourdaughter,IwillselleverythingIowntofightyouincourt.”
“AndI’llhelpher,”Allysasays.“Iloveyou,butI’llhelpher.”
Ryle’sjawistwitching.Hisexpressionisblankotherwise.HelooksatAllysaandthenatMarshall.Thetensionintheroomispalpable,butsoisthesupport.Icouldcry,I’msogratefulforthem.
Icouldcryforallthevictimswhodon’thavepeoplelikethem.
Rylestewsovereverythingforalongbeat.It’ssoquiet,butI’vemadethepointIwantedtomake,andI’vemadeitobviousthatthere’snoroomfornegotiation.
Heeventuallyscootsbackfromthetableandstands.Hebringshishandstohishipsandstaresdownatthefloor.Thenhedragsinalonginhalebeforeheheadsforthekitchendoor.Beforeheleaves,helooksbacktowardus,butmakeseyecontactwithnoneofus.“I’moffthisThursday.I’llbeherearoundtenifyouwanttomakesureEmersonishere.”
Heleaves,andassoonashedoes,myshieldofarmorcollapses,andIshatter.Allysaputsherarmsaroundme,butI’mnotcryingbecauseI’mupset.I’mcryingbecauseIamso,sorelieved.Itactuallyfeelslikeweaccomplishedsomethingsignificant.“Idon’tknowwhatI’ddowithoutyoutwo,”Isaythroughmytears,huggingAllysa.
Sherunsherhandovermyhairandsays,“You’dbesomiserable,Lily.”
Webothstarttolaugh.Somehow.ChapterThirty-ThreeAtlas
IcalledSuttonafterIdroppedJoshoffatmyhouseandaskedhertomeetmeatBib’s.Igothereanhourbeforeweagreedtomeet.I’venevercookedforher,soI’mhopingmymakingheramealdoessomethingtoher.Pleasesher,putsherinadecentmood.Anythingtomakeherlesscombative.
Myphonepings,soIstepawayfromthestoveandlookatthescreen.ItoldhertotextmewhenshearrivedsoIcouldletherin.She’sfiveminutesearly.
Iwalkthroughthedarkrestaurantandfliponsomelightsonmywaythrough.She’sstandingnearthefront,smokingacigarette.Whensheseesthedooropen,sheflicksthecigaretteintothestreetandthenfollowsmeinside.
“IsJoshhere?”sheasks.
“No.It’sjustmeandyou.”Igesturetowardatable.“Haveaseat.Whatdoyouwanttodrink?”
Sheregardsmesilentlyforamoment,thensays,“Redwine.Whateveryouhaveopen.”Shetakesaseatinabooth,andIheadbacktoplateourfood.ImadecoconutshrimpbecauseIknowit’sherfavorite.IsawherfallinlovewithitwhenIwasnineyearsold.
Itwasontheoneandonlyroadtripshetookmeon.WewenttoCapeCod,whichisn’tallthatfarfromBoston,butit’stheonlytimeIremembermymothereverdoingsomethingwithmeonadayoff.Sheusuallysleptordrankherwaythroughherdaysoff,sothedaytriptoCapeCodwherewetriedcoconutshrimpforthefirsttimeisnotsomethingthatwentunappreciatedbyme.
Iplaceourplatesanddrinksonatrayandwalkitouttothetableshe’sseatedat.Isetthefoodandwineinfrontofher,thentakeaseatacrossfromher.Islidesilverwaretohersideofthetable.
Shestaresatherplateforabeat.“Youcookedthis?”
“Idid.It’scoconutshrimp.”
“What’stheoccasion?”sheasks,openinghernapkin.“Isthisanapologyforassumingyoucouldactuallyparentakidlikehim?”Shelaughslikeshetoldajoke,butthelackofnoiseintherestaurantmakesherlaughfallflat.Sheshakesherheadandpicksupherglassofwine,sippingfromit.
IknowshehastwelveyearsonmewithJosh,butI’mwillingtobetIalreadyknowhimbetterthanshedoes.Joshprobablyknowsmebetterthansheknowsme,andIlivedwithherforseventeenyears.“Whatwasmyfavoritefoodgrowingup?”Iaskher.
Shestaresbackatmeblankly.
Maybethatwasatoughone.“Okay.Whataboutmyfavoritemovie?”Nothing.“Color?Music?”Igiveherafewmore,hopingshecanansweratleastoneofthem.
Shecan’t.Sheshrugs,settingdownherwineglass.
“WhatkindofbooksdoesJoshliketoread?”
“Isthatatrickquestion?”sheasks.
Isettlebackagainstthebooth,attemptingtohidemyagitation,butit’slivingandbreathingineverypartofme.“Youdon’tknowanythingaboutthepeopleyoubroughtintothisworld.”
“Iwasasinglemothertobothofyou,Atlas.Ididn’thavetimetoworryaboutwhatyoulikedtoreadwhenIwasbusytryingtosurvive.”Shedropstheforkshewasabouttouse.“JesusChrist.”
“Ididn’taskyoutocomeheresoIcouldmakeyoufeelbad,”Isay.Itakeasipofmywater,andthenrunmyfingeraroundtherimofmyglass.“Idon’tevenneedanapology.Neitherdoeshe.”Ilookatherpointedly,shockedthatI’mabouttosaywhatI’mabouttosay.It’snotwhatIcameheretosaytoheratall,butthethingsIselfishlycamehereforaren’twhat’snaggingatme.“Iwanttogiveyouanopportunitytobeabettermothertohim.”
“Maybetheissueisthatheshouldbeabetterson.”
“He’stwelve.He’sasgoodasheneedstobe.Besides,therelationshipyouhavewithhimisn’thisresponsibility.”
Shescratcheshercheekandthenflicksahandintheair.“Whatisthis?WhyamIhere?Doyouwantmetotakehimbackbecausehe’stoomuchforyoutohandle?”
“Notevenclose,”Isay.“Iwantyoutosignyourrightsovertome.Ifyoudon’t,I’lltakeyoutocourt,andit’llcostusbotharidiculousamountofmoneythatneitherofuswantstopay.ButI’llpayit.Ifthat’swhatittakes,Iwilldragthisinfrontofajudge,whowilltakeonelookatyourhistoryandforceyoutoundergoayearofparentingclassesthatwebothknowyouhavenointerestingincompleting.”Ileanforward,foldingmyarmstogether.“Iwantlegalcustodyofhim,butI’mnotaskingyoutodisappear.Idon’twantyouto.ThelastthingIwantisforthatboytogrowupfeelingasunlovedbyyouasIfelt.”
Shesitsfrozeninmywords,soIpickupmyforkandtakeacasualbiteofmydinner.
ShestaresatmewhileIchew,andshe’sstillstaringatmeasIwashdownthefoodwithasipofwater.I’msureherbrainisrunningamileaminute,searchingforaninsultorathreatofherown,butshe’sgotnothing.
“EveryTuesdaynightwe’regoingtohavedinnerhere,asafamily.Youaremorethanwelcometocome.I’msurehewouldenjoythat.I’llneveraskyouforapenny.AllIaskisthatyoushowuponenightaweekandbeinterestedinwhoheis,evenifyouhavetofakeit.”
InoticeSutton’sfingersareshakingasshereachesforherwineglass.Shemustnotice,too,becauseshemakesafistbeforegrabbingitandpullsherhandbacktoherlap.“YoumustnotrememberCapeCodifyouthinkIwassuchahorriblemothertoyou.”
“IrememberCapeCod,”Isay.“It’stheonememoryItrytoholdontosothatIdon’tcompletelyresentyou.Butwhileyoufeellikeyoudidthiswonderfulthingbygivingmethatonememoryofusthatonetime,I’mofferingtogivethattoJosheverydayofhislife.”
SuttonlooksdownatherlapwhenIsaythat.Forthefirsttime,shelookslikeshemightbeexperiencinganemotionotherthanangerorirritation.
MaybeIam,too.WhenIdecidedtohavethisconversationwithheronthedrivehomefromTim’shousetoday,Ifullyplannedoncuttingheroutofourlivesforever.Butevenmonsterscan’tsurvivewithoutaheartbeatinginsidetheirchest.
There’saheartintheresomewhere.Maybenooneinherlifehaseverletherknowthey’reappreciativethatitstillbeats.
“Thankyou,”Isay.
Hereyesflickeruptomine.ShethinksI’mtestingherwiththatcomment.
Ishakemyhead,conflictedbywhatI’mabouttosay.“Youwereasinglemother,andIknowneitherofourfathershelpedyouinanyway.Thatmusthavebeenreallydifficultforyou.Maybeyou’relonely.Maybeyou’redepressed.Idon’tknowwhyyoucan’tlookatmotherhoodlikethegiftthatitis,butyou’rehere.Youshoweduptonight,andthateffortisworthathank-you.”
Shelooksdownatthetable,andit’sacompletelyunexpectedreactionwhenhershouldersbegintoshake,butshefightsbackthetearswithallthatsheis.Shebringsherhandsuptothetableandfidgetswithhernapkin,butneverhastouseitbecauseshedoesn’tallowasingleteartofall.
Idon’tknowwhatshewentthroughthatmadehersohard.Sounwillingtobevulnerable.Maybeoneofthesedaysshe’llsharethatwithme,butshehasalottoproveasamothertoJoshbeforesheandIwillevergettothatpoint.
Shepullshershouldersback,sittingupstraighter.“WhattimewillthedinnerbeonTuesdays?”
“Seven.”
Shenodsandlookslikeshe’sabouttoscootoutofthebooth.
“Icangetyouato-goboxifyouwanttotakeitwithyou.”
Shenodsquickly.“I’dlikethat.It’salwaysbeenmyfavoritedish.”
“Iknow.IrememberCapeCod.”Itakeherplatetothekitchenandprepareittogo.
JoshisasleeponthecouchwhenIfinallymakeitbackhome.Animeisplayingonthetelevision,soIhitpauseandsettheremoteonthecoffeetable.
Iwatchhimsleepforalittlewhile,overcomewithreliefafterthedayI’vehad.Thingscouldhavegonealotdifferently.Ipressmylipstogether,chokingbacktheemotionalexhaustionasIwatchhimsleepinpeace.IrealizeasI’mstaringathimthatI’mlookingathimthesamewayLilylooksatEmerson,likeshe’ssofullofpride.
Ipulltheblanketoffthebackofthecouchanddrapeitoverhim,thenIwalktothetablewhereJosh’shomeworkislaidout.Everythingiscompleted,eventhefamilytreeassignment.
Hedrewatinyseedlingsproutingfromthegroundwithtwosmallbranches.OnesaysJoshandonesaysAtlasChapterThirty-FourLily
Ialmostmissedthenote,Iwasinsucharushthismorning.Itwasshovedundermyfrontdoorandwascaughtontheentryrug.
IhadEmmyonmyhip,apurseandadiaperbagonmyshoulder,andcoffeeinmyfreehand.Imanagedtobendandpickupthenotewithoutspillinganyofit.Supermom.
IhadtowaituntilIgotaquietmomentatworktoopenit.WhenIunfoldthenoteandseeAtlas’shandwriting,Ifeelashiverofreliefrunthroughme.NotbecauseIthoughtthenotewouldbefromanyoneotherthanAtlas.We’vebeentogetherseveralmonthsnow,andheleavesmenotesallthetime.Butthisisoneofthefirstnoteshe’sleftthatasmallpartofmehasn’tdreadedopening,intheoffchancethenotewasfromRyle.
Imakeamentalnoteofthesignificanceofthismoment.
Idothatalot.Mentallynotesignificantthingsthatarecluesmylifeisfinallygettingbacktonormal.Idon’tdoitasoftenasIusedto,butthat’sagoodthing.Ryleissuchasmallpartofmylifenow,IsometimesforgethoweternallycomplicatedIusedtobelieveitwouldbe.
He’sstillapartofEmmy’slife,butI’vebeendemandingmorestructurefromhim.HesometimestriestopushbackonhowstrictIamwithhervisits,butI’mnevergoingtobecomfortableuntilshecantellmeinherownwordswhathervisitswithRylearelike.I’mhopingangermanagementishelping,butonlytimewilltell.
ThecontactRyleandIdohaveisstillsometimesterse,butallI’veeverwantedoutofourdivorcewasmyfreedomfromfear,andItrulyfeellikeIhavethat.
I’mhidinginmyofficestoragecloset,sittingcross-leggedonthefloorbecauseIwantedtoreadthisletteruninterrupted.It’sbeenmonthssinceIforcedAtlastohideoutinhere,butitstillsmellslikehim.
Iunfoldthenoteandtracethelittleopenhearthedrewatthetopleft-handcornerofthefirstpage.I’malreadysmilingasIbegintoread.
DearLily,
Idon’tknowifyou’reawareofthedate,butwehaveofficiallybeendatingforhalfofanentireyear.Dopeoplecelebratehalf-yearanniversaries?Iwouldhavegottenyouflowers,butIdon’tliketomakethefloristworktoohard.
Idecidedtogiveyouthisnote,instead.
Theysaytherearetwosidestoeverystory,andI’vereadacoupleofstoriesofyoursthat,eventhoughtheyhappenedthewayyousaidtheydid,Ihadanentirelydifferentexperience.
Youkindofbrushedoverthismomentinyourjournals,eventhoughIknowitmeantenoughforyoutogetatattoo.ButI’mnotsureyou’reawareofhowmuchthatmomentmeanttome
Yousayourfirstkisshappenedonyourbed,butthat’snottheoneIcountasourfirstkiss.OurfirstkisshappenedonaMondayinthemiddleoftheday.
ItwasthattimeIgotsickandyoutookcareofme.YounoticedIwasillassoonasIcrawledthroughyourwindow.Irememberyoutakingimmediateaction.Yougavememedicine,water,andblankets,andforcedmetosleeponyourbed.
Idon’tremembereverbeingsickerthanthatinmyentirelife.IdobelieveyouwitnessedthemostawfuldayI’veeverlivedthrough.AndI’velivedthroughsomeawfuldays.Butwhenyou’reinit,thereseemstobenothingworseinthemomentthanahorriblestomachbug.
Idon’trememberalotofthatnight.Irememberyourhands,though.Yourhandswerealwaysnearme,eithercheckingmytemperatureorwipingmyfacewitharagorholdingmyshoulderssteadywhileIrepeatedlyhadtofoldoverthesideofyourbedthroughoutthenight.
That’swhatIremember:yourhands.Youhadalightpinkpolishon,IevenrememberthenameofthecolorbecauseIhadbeenwithyouwhenyoupaintedyournails.ItwascalledSurpriseLilyandyoutoldmeyoupickeditbecauseofthename.
Icouldbarelyopenmyeyes,buteverytimeIdid,theretheywere,yourslenderhelpinghandswithyourSurpriseLilyfingernails,holdingupmywaterbottle,feedingmemedicine,tracingmyjaw.
Yes,Lily.Irememberthatmoment,eventhoughyoudidn’twriteaboutit.
Afterhoursofbeingill,Irememberwakingup,oratleastbecomingmoreawareofmysurroundings.Myheadwaspoundingandmymouthwasparchedandmyeyelidsweretooheavytoopen,butIfeltyou.
Ifeltyourbreathonmycheek.Yourfingertipswereonmyjawandyoutracedthemallthewaydowntomychin.
YouthoughtIwasasleep—thatIcouldn’tfeelyoutouchingme,watchingme,butIhadneverfeltmorethanIdidinthatmoment.
ItwastheexactmomentIrealizedthatIlovedyou.Ikindofhatedrealizingsomethingthatmonumentalinthemiddleofsuchashittyday,butithitmesohardIthoughtIwasgoingtocryforthefirsttimeinyearsandIdidn’tknowwhattodowiththatfeeling.
But,man,Lily,Ihadgonemywholelifenotknowingwhatlovefeltlike.Ididn’thavetheloveamotherandsonshouldhave,orafatherandson,orasibling.Anduntilyou,Ihadneverspentthatkindoftimewithanyoneunrelatedtome,especiallyagirl.Notlongenoughtotrulygettoknowagirl,orforthemtogettoknowme,orforustoconnectanddeepenthatconnection,andthenforthatgirltoprovetobecaringandhelpfulandkindandworriedandeverythingthatyouweretome.
I’mnotevensayingitwasthemomentIrealizedIwasINlovewithyou.ItwasjustthefirstmomentIrealizedIlovedsomething,anything,anyone,ever.Itwasthefirsttimemyhearthadeverreacted.Atleastinapositiveway.Peoplehaddonethingstomeinthepastthatmademyheartshrink,butneverexpandlikethat.Whenyourfingersweretricklingovermychinlikesoftdropsofrain,Ithoughtmyheartwasgoingtoswellsobigitmightpop.
Ipretendedtoslowlywakeupinthatmoment.Iputmyarmovermyeyes,andyouquicklypulledyourhandback.Iremembercraningmyneckandlookingatyourwindowtoseeifitwaslightoutside.Italmostwas,soIstartedtopullmyselfoutofyourbed,pretendingnottoknowyouwereawake.YousatupandaskedmeifIwasleaving,andIhadtoswallowbeforeIcouldgetmyvoicetowork.Itbarelydid.Isaidsomethinglike,“Yourparentswillbeupsoon.”
Youtoldmeyouweregoingtoskipschoolandcomebackformeinacoupleofhours.Inoddedwithoutspeaking,becauseIwasstillsick,butIhadtogetoutofyourbedroombeforeIsaidsomethingordidsomethingtoembarrassmyself.Ididn’ttrustthefeelingthatwasbuzzingbeneathmyskin.Itwascreatingthisburningneedtolookatyouandsay,Iloveyou,Lily!It’sfunnyhow,assoonasyoufeelloveforthefirsttime,yousuddenlyhavethishugedesiretoprofessit.Thewordsfeltliketheywereformingrightinthecenterofmychest,andeventhoughIwasweakerthanI’dprobablyeverbeen,Ihadneverliftedyourwindowandcrawledoutofitthatfastbefore.
Ishutitandflattenedmybackagainstthecoldwallofyourhouse,andIexhaled.Mybreathturnedtofog,andIclosedmyeyes,andaftertheabsoluteworsteighthoursofmylife,Isomehowcrackedasmile.
Ithoughtaboutlovetherestofthemorning.Evenafteryou’dcomebacktogetmeonceyourparentsweregoneandIspentseveralmorehoursbeingsickatyourhouse,Iwasthinkingaboutlove.WhenyourSurpriseLilyfingernailswouldflashacrossmylineofsighteverytimeyoucheckedmytemperature,I’dthinkaboutlove.Everytimeyou’dwalkintoyourroomandadjustthecovers,tuckingthemundermychin,I’dthinkaboutlove.
AndthenwhenIfinallystartedtofeelalittlebetteraroundlunchtime,Istoodintheshower,weakanddehydratedfrombeingsick,yetIsomehowfeltlikeIwasstandingtallerthanIeverhadbefore.
Thatwholemorningandintotherestoftheday,Iknewsomethingsignificanthadhappened.Forthefirsttime,IhadfeltaflickerofwhatIknewlifecouldbe.Beforethatmoment,Inevergavemuchthoughttofallinginlove,orhavingafamilysomeday,oreventheideaofcultivatingasuccessfulcareer.LifetomehadalwaysfeltlikeaburdenIhadtobear.Somethingheavyandmurkythatmadewakingupdifficultandfallingasleepalittlebitscary.Butthat’sbecauseIhadgoneeighteenyearsnotknowingwhatitfeltliketocareaboutsomeonesomuch,youwantthemtobethefirstthingyouseewhenyouopenyoureyes.IevenfeltadesiretomakesomethingofmyselfbecauseyouwerethefirstpersonIeverwantedtobecomesomethingbetterfor.
Thatwasthedaywelaidonyourcouchtogetherandyoutoldmeyouwantedmetowatchyourfavoritecartoonwithyou.Itwasthefirsttimeyouhadeversnuggleduptome,yourbacktomychestaswelayundertheblanketwithmyarmwrappedoveryou.ItwashardtofocusonthetelevisionbecausethewordsIloveyouwerestillticklingtheirwayupmythroat,andIdidn’twanttosayit,couldn’tsayit,becauseIdidn’twantyoutothinkitwastoofast,orthatthosewordsheldnoweightforme.TheyweretheheaviestdamnthingI’devercarried.
ButIthinkaboutthatdaysomuch,Lily,andIhavenoideaifthat’swhatlovefeelslikeforeveryone,likeit’sanairplanethatjustfellfromtheskyandcrashedrightthroughyou.Becausemostpeople,theyhaveloveseepinginandouttheirwholelives.They’rebornbeingwrappedinitandtheygotheirwholechildhoodbeingprotectedbyit,andtheyhavepeopleintheirlivesthatwelcometheirloveinreturn,soI’mnotsureithitspeoplelikeithitme—inonesmallmoment,insuchacolossalway.
YouwerewearingthisshirtIloved.Itwastoobigforyou,andthesleevewasalwaysfallingoffyourshoulder.Ishouldhavebeenwatchingthecartoon,butIcouldn’tstopstaringatthatstretchofexposedskinbetweenyourneckandyourshoulder.AsIwaslookingatit,IonceagainfeltthatincrediblepulltosayIloveyou,andthewordswerethere,rightonthetipofmytongue,soIleanedforwardandpressedthemagainstyourskin
Andthat’swheretheystayed,hiddenandquiet,untilIworkedupthecouragetospeakthemoutloudtoyousixmonthslater.
Ihadnoideayourememberedthatkiss,orallthetimesIkissedyouinthatspotafterthatday.EvenwhenIreaditinyourjournal,yourushedpastitinahurrytogettowhatyouconsideredouractualfirstkiss,soIhadnoideathatitevenmeantanythingtoyouuntilthemomentIsawyourtattoo.Ican’ttellyouwhatthatmeanstome,knowingthatyouhaveourheartplacedintheveryspotwhereIoncesecretlyburiedthewordsIloveyou.
Iwantyoutopromisemesomething,Lily.Whenyoulookatthattattoo,Idon’twantyoutothinkaboutanythingotherthanthewordsI’vewritteninthisletter.AndeverytimeIkissyouthere,IwantyoutorememberwhyIkissedyoutherethefirsttime.Love.Discoveringit,givingit,receivingit,fallinginit,livinginit,leavingforit.
I’mwritingthisletterwhilesittingonthefloorofJosh’sbedroom.MyexperiencewithJoshtonightiskindofwhatsparkedmymemory.He’ssickwithastomachbug.MaybenotassickasIwasthedayIfirstrealizedIlovedyou,butvery,verysicknonetheless.HecaughtitfromTheo,whohaditafewdaysago.
I’venevertakencareofasickpersonbefore,soIhavenomedicineatall.IthinkI’mabouttomakeapharmacyrun.Imightslipthisletterunderyourapartmentdooronmywaythere.
Itisn’tfuntakingcareofasickperson.Thesounds,thesmell,thelackofsleep—it’sactuallyalmostasbadforthepersondoingthecaring.EverytimeIcheckhistemperatureorforcehimtodrinkwater,Ithinkaboutyouandhowyoucaredformewithsuchagentleparentalinstinct.I’mtryingtoreplicatethatinmycareforJosh,butIdon’tthinkI’masgoodatthisasyouwere.
Youweresoyoung,justafewyearsolderthanJoshisnow.ButI’msureyoufeltmucholderthanyouwere.IknowIdid.Wehadbeenthroughthingsnokidshouldhavetoexperience.ItmakesmewonderifJoshfeelshisage,orifhefeelsolderthanheshouldbecauseofallhe’sbeenthrough.
Iwanthimtofeelyoungforaslongashecan.Iwanthimtoenjoyhistimewithme.IwanthimtoknowwhatloveislongbeforeIdid.AndIhopethatlovehasbeenseepingslowlyintohimsothatitdoesn’thithimallatoncelikeitdidme.Iwanthimtogrowupwithit,wrappedinit,surroundedbyit.Iwanthimtowitnessit.
Iwanttobeanexampleforhim.Iwantustobeanexampleforhim,andforEmerson.Meandyou,Lily.
It’sbeensixmonths.
Moveinwithme.
Love,
Atlas
AssoonasIfinishreadingtheletter,Isetitdownandwipemyeyes.IfthisishowmuchIcrywhenheasksmetomoveinwithhim,IhavenoideahowI’llsurviveaproposal.
Orweddingvows,forthatmatter.
IpickupmyphoneandcallAtlasovervideochat.Itringsfortenlongseconds,andwhenAtlasfinallyanswersit,he’slyingonhislivingroomcouch.He’ssmilingthroughhisobviousexhaustionfrombeingupallnightwithJosh.
“Hey,beautiful.”Hisvoiceisbarelyawake.
“Hi.”Myhandiscurledintoafist,andI’mrestingmycheekonit,pushingdownmyhugesmile.“How’sJoshfeeling?”
“He’sokay,”Atlassays.“He’ssleeping,butIthinkIstayedupsolong,mybrainistoooverwhelmedtoshutoffnow.”Heputsafisttohismouthandstiflesayawn.
“Atlas.”Isayhisnamesympatheticallybecausehedoeslookabsolutelydrained.“Doyouneedmetocomeoverandgiveyouahug?”
“YoumeandoIneedyoutocomehomeandgivemeahug?”
Ismilewhenhesaysthat.“Yes.That’sexactlywhatImeant.Doyouneedmetocomehomeandgiveyouahug?”
Henods.“Ido,Lily.Comehome.”ChapterThirty-FiveAtlas
“Aren’tyourich?”Bradasks.“Couldn’tyouhirepeopletodothisforyou?”
“Iowntworestaurants.I’mnotevenclosetorich.AndwhywouldIhiresomeonewhenIhaveyouguys?”
“Atleastwe’regoingdownstairs,”Theosays.
“Takenotesfromyourson,Brad.Silverlining.”
Wedon’thavemuchlefttomove.Lilydidn’tneedalotofherstuffsincemyhouseisalreadyfurnished,soshedonatedmostofittoalocaldomesticviolenceshelter.Weshouldhaveherapartmentcompletelyclearedoutbythisafternoon.
BradistheonlypersonIknowwithatruck,soheandTheohavebeenhelpingusloadthethingswecan’tfitintoourcars.Emerson’scrib,Lily’slivingroomtelevision,someoftheartworkhangingonherwalls.
Joshluckedout.He’satbaseballpractice,sohedidn’thavetohelpwiththemove.
Iwassurprisedwhenhecamehomeafewmonthsagoandtoldmehehadsignedupfortryouts.Hemadetheteamandhasbeengivingiteverythinghehas.BetweenLilyandI,wehaven’tmissedasinglegame.
Itextedourmotherhisschedule,butsofarshehasn’tshownuptoagame.She’sonlyshownuponcetothedinnerswestartedhavingeveryTuesdaynight.Iwashopingshewouldwanttobemoreinvolved,butI’mnotsurprisedsheisn’t.IdoubtJoshissurprised,either.Wedon’tfocustoomuchonwhatisn’tworkingoutinourlives.Wefocusonwhatis,andthere’salottobegratefulfor.ThetwomainthingsbeingthatIwasabletogetcustodyofJosh,andLilyandEmersonaremovinginwithus.Funnyhowdrasticallylifecanchangeonadime.
TheAtlasoflastyearwouldn’tknowwhattothinkoftheAtlasofthisyear.
LilyisheadingupthestairsrightasIreachthebottomofthem.Shegrinsandgivesmeakissinpassing,thenrunsuptherestofthesteps.
Theoshakeshishead.“Stillcan’tbelieveyoumadeitthisfarwithher.”Hehoistshisboxupwithhiskneeandthenpresseshisbackagainsttheexitdoortopushitopen.HeholdsitopenformeandBrad,butIpauseoncewe’reintheparkinggarage.
There’sacarthatresemblesRyle’spullingintoaparkingspotafewspacesawayfromBrad’struck.
Asenseofdreadwashesoverme.Ihaven’thadasingleinteractionwithhimsincethatdayheattemptedtofightmeatmyrestaurant,butthatwasmonthsago.Ihavenoideahowmuchhe’swarmeduptotheideaofmeandLily,butfromthelookhe’sshootinginmydirection,itdoesn’tseemlikehe’swarmedupmuch.
Someoneelseiswithhim.Amangetsoutofthepassengerseat,andfromwhatLilyhastoldme,itlookslikehecouldbeRyle’sbrother-in-law.I’vemetLily’smother,andI’vemetAllysaandRylee,butI’venevermetMarshall.
IwalkovertoBrad’struckandloaduptheboxI’mcarrying,butI’mwatchingRyle’scarthewholetime.TheoandBradheadbackinside,unawareofRyle’spresence.MarshallliftsEmersonoutofthebackseatandclosesthedoor.RyleremainsinthecarasMarshallwalksEmersoninmydirection.
Heholdsoutahand.“Hey.Atlas,right?I’mMarshall.”
Ireturnhishandshake.“Yeah,goodtomeetyou.”
Henods,butwhenEmersonseesme,Marshallhastoclaspatighterhandaroundherbecauseshelungesforme.Istepforwardandtakeherfromhim.
“Hey,Emmy.Didyouhavefuntoday?”
Marshallwatchesmewithherforamoment,thensays,“Becareful.ShepukedonRyletwicetoday.”
“Isshenotfeelingwell?”
“She’sfine,butshe’sbeenwiththetwoofusallday.Boththegirlshadsugarforbreakfast.Andsnack.Andlunchandsecondsnackand…”Hewavesadismissivehand.“LilyandIssaareusedtoit.”
Emersonreachesupandpullsthesunglassesoffmyhead.Shetriestoputthemonherownface,butthey’recrooked,soIhelpheradjustthemuntilshe’swearingthemright.Shegrinsatme,andIsmilebackather.
MarshallglancesoveratthecarthatRyle’ssittingin,andthenbacktome.“Sorryhe’snotgettingout.Thisisallstillalittleweirdforhim.Hermovinginwithyou.”
WhenMarshallsays“her,”hedoesn’tmeanLily.He’slookingatEmerson.Inodinunderstanding,becauseIdounderstand.“It’sfine.Ican’timaginethisiseasyforhim.”
MarshallrufflesEmmy’shairandthensays,“I’llgetoutofheresoyouguyscanfinishup.Itwasgoodfinallymeetingyou.”
“Youtoo,”Isay.AndImeanthat.MarshallseemslikesomeoneIcouldbefriendswithifthecircumstancesweredifferent.
HeturnstoheadbacktoRyle’scar,buthepausesandfacesmeagainbeforehegetsveryfar.“Thankyou,”hesays.“Lilymeansalottomywife,so…yeah.ThanksformakingLilyhappy.Shedeservesit.”AssoonasMarshallsaysthat,heshakeshisheadandholdsuphishands,takingastepback.“I’llgonowbeforeitgetstooawkward.”HemakesabeelineforRyle’scar,butIkindofwishhewouldn’thaverunoffsofast.Iwouldhavethankedhim,too.IknowhissupporthasmeantalottoLily.
Marshallshutsthepassengerdoor,andRyleputshiscarindriveandheadsout.
IglanceatEmmy,whoisnowchewingonmysunglasses.“YouwanttogosayhitoMommy?”Istarttowalkinthedirectionofthebuilding,butIpausewhenIseeLilystandinginthedoorwaytothestairwell.
Assoonassheseesme,shespinsaroundandwipesquicklyathereyes.I’mnotsurewhyshe’scrying,butIwalkalittlebitslowersoshecanerasethetearsbeforeshegreetsherdaughter.Sureenough,severalsecondslater,shespinsaroundwithabiggrinandtakesEmmyfromme.
“Didyouhavefunwithyourdaddytoday?”sheasks,rightbeforeshesmothersEmmywithseveralkisses.
Whenshelooksatme,Ishootheracuriouslook,wonderingwhyshewascrying.Shegesturestotheparkinglot,whereRyle’scarwasmomentsbefore.
“Thatwasabigthing,”shesays.“Imean,IknowMarshallwaswithhim,butthefactthathefeltokayenoughtoleaveherwithyou…”She’sstartingtotearupagain,whichmakeshersighandrollhereyesatherownreaction.“Itfeelsgoodknowingthemeninherlifecanatleastpretendtogetalongforhersake.”
Ithonestlymakesmefeelgood,too.I’mgladshewasupstairswhentheyshowedup.IknowRylesatinthecarwhileMarshallhandedherover,butitwasastepintherightdirection.MaybeRyleandIneededanexchangelikethatjustasmuchasLilydid.
Wejustprovedcooperationispossible,evenifitstings.
IwipeatLily’swetcheek,andthenIgiveheraquickkiss.“Iloveyou.”IputmyhandonLily’slowerbackandguidehertowardthestairs.“Onemoretripbeforeyou’restuckwithmeforever.”
Lilylaughs.“Ican’twaittobestuckwithyouforever.”ChapterThirty-SixLily
I’mcurleduponAtlas’scouch,exhaustedfrommoving.
Ourcouch.
Thisisgoingtotakesomegettingusedto.
IhadTheoandJoshhelpmeunpacktherestofEmerson’sandmythingsbecauseAtlashasalatenightatwork.Iwakeupearly,hegetshomelate,butit’sexcitingthatwe’llnowgetmorepiecesofeachother,evenwhenit’sinpassing.AndwehaveSundaystogether
ButtonightisaFriday,andtomorrowisaSaturday,Atlas’sbusiestdays,soI’mentertainingJoshandTheountilmymotherreturnswithEmerson.ThethreeofushavebeenwatchingFindingNemo,butit’salmostover.
Ihonestlydidn’tthinktheywouldsitthroughitbecausethey’reattheagewhenpreteenstendtowanttoseparatethemselvesfromDisneycartoons.ButI’mlearningthatGenZisadifferentbreed.ThemoretimeIspendwiththesetwo,themoreIthinkthey’reunlikeanygenerationthatcamebeforethem.They’relesspronetopeerpressureandmoresupportiveofindividuality.I’malittlebitjealousofthem.
Joshstandswhenthecreditsbegintoroll.
“Didyoulikeit?”
Heshrugs.“Itwasprettyfunny,consideringitstartedwiththebrutalslaughterofallthatcaviar.”Hetakeshisemptybagofpopcorntowardthekitchen,butTheoisstillstaringatthetelevision.He’sshakinghisheadslowly.
I’mstillstuckonJosh’sdescriptionofthebeginningofthemovie…
“Idon’tgetit,”Theosays.
“Thecaviarcomment?”
Theolooksbetweenmeandthetelevision.“No.Idon’tgetwhyAtlassaidthattoyouaboutfinallyreachingtheshore.Itwasn’tevenaquoteinthemovie.HetoldmehesaiditbecauseofFindingNemo.Iwaitedforsomeonetosayitthroughtheentiremovie.”
I’msureI’llhavetogetusedtoalotofthingsnowthatIlivewithAtlas,butknowinghetalkstothiskidaboutourrelationshipisprobablynotoneofthethingsI’llevergetusedto
TheconfusioninTheo’seyesflipslikealightswitch.“Oh.Oh.Becausewhenlifegetsthemdown,theykeepswimming,soAtlaswassayinglifewillnolonger…okay.”Hismindisstillgoingamileaminutebehindthoseeyes.Hestartstoshakehisheadashepusheshimselfoffthefloor.“Istillthinkit’scheesy,”hemutters.Theo’sphonebuzzesrightashestands.“Igottago—mydad’shere.”
Joshisbackinthelivingroom.“Youaren’tstayingover?”
“Ican’ttonight;myparentsaretakingmetoathinginthemorning.”
“Iwanttogotoathing,”Joshsays.
Theoispullingonhisshoeswhenhehesitates.“Yeah,Idon’tknow.”
“Whereareyougoing?”
Theo’seyesflashbrieflytomine,andthenbacktoJosh.“It’saparade.”Hesaysitquietly,butalsolikeit’sawarning.
“Aparade?”Joshtiltshishead.“Whyareyoubeingweird?Whatkindofparadeisit?Aprideparade?”
TheoswallowslikemaybehimandJoshhaven’thadthisconversation,soI’mnervousonTheo’sbehalf.ButI’vebeenaroundJoshenoughoverthelastseveralmonthstoknowthathevalueshisfriendshipwithTheo.
Joshgrabshisshoesandsitsnexttomeonthecouchandstartsputtingthemon.“Whatareyousaying?I’mnotallowedtogotoapridethingbecauseIlikegirls?”
Theoshiftsfromonefoottotheother.“Youcango.Ijust…Ididn’tknowifyouknew.”
Joshrollshiseyes.“Youcantellalotaboutapersonbytheirtasteinmanga,Theo.I’mnotadumbass.”
“Josh,”Isay.
“Sorry.”Hegrabsajacketfromthecloset.“CanIstayoveratTheo’stonight?”
Josh’scasualattitudeaboutthismonumentalmomentbetweenthetwoofthemremindsmesomuchofAtlas.
ConsiderateJosh.
ButhisquestionaboutleavingwithTheokindofstumpsme.Myeyeswidenslightly.I’veonlylivedherefourdays.Joshhasn’taskedmepermissionforanythingbefore,andAtlasandIhaven’treallylaidgroundrules.“Yeah,sure.Butletyourbrotherknowwhereyouare.”
Ireallydon’tthinkAtlaswillmind.Nowthatwelivetogether,we’regoingtohavetotacklethingslikethiswhenitcomestoJoshandEmerson.Whoparentswho,when,how.It’skindofexciting.IlikefiguringoutlifewithAtlas.
Mymotherstillhasn’treturnedwithEmersonyet,soonceJoshandTheohaveleft,thehouseisquietandemptyforthefirsttimesincewemovedin.I’veneverbeenherealonebefore.Ispendmyalonetimewalkingthroughrooms,lookingincabinets,familiarizingmyselfwithmynewhouse.
Mynewhouse.That’sfuntosay.
Igooutbackandsitinachaironthedeck,staringoverthebackyard.It’stheperfectbackyardforagarden.Almostunheard-offoraplacethisfarintothecity.It’slikeAtlassearchedforahousespecificallyfortheperfectgardenspacejustincaseIevercamebackintohislife.Iknowthat’snotatallwhyhechosethishouse,butit’sfunimagininghediditforthatreason.
Myphonerings,startlingme.It’sAtlasreturninganearliercallwithavideochat.
“Hi.”
“Whatareyoudoing?”heasks.
“Pickingoutaspotformygarden.JoshwantedtostayoverwithTheo,soIlethimgo.Ihopethat’sokay.”
“Ofcourseitis.Didtheyhelpyouatall?”
“Yeah,wegotmostofitdone.”
Atlaslooksrelievedbythat.Herunsahanddownthesideofhisfacelikehe’sreleasingstress.Itlookslikeit’sbeenabusyday,butAtlastucksitawaybeneathasmile.“Where’sEmerson?”
“Mymomisonherwaybackwithher.”
Hesighslikehe’ssadhecouldn’tgetaglimpseofher.“I’mstartingtomissher,”hesays.Thewordscomeoutsoftandfast,likehe’salittlebitscaredtoadmithe’sstartingtolovemydaughter.ButIcaughthiswords,andI’mkeepingthemnexttoalltheothersweetthingshe’seversaidtome.“I’llbehomeinaboutthreehours.Willyoubeawake?”
“IfI’mnot,youknowwhattodo.”
Atlasgiveshisheadalittleshake,andhismouthticksupinthecorner.“Iloveyou.Behomesoon.”
“Iloveyou,too.”
Assoonasweendourcall,IhearEmerson’ssweetvoice,soIimmediatelyturnaround.Mymotherisstandinginthedoorwayholdingher.She’ssmilinglikeshecaughtsomeofthatconversation.
IstanduptograbEmersonfromher,andsheclingstome.Shouldbeaneasynight.Whenshegetscuddlylikethis,itmeansshe’sreadytofallasleep.Imotionformymothertohaveaseatnexttome.
“Thisiscute,”shesays.
It’sherfirsttimehere.Iwouldshowheraround,butEmersonisalreadyrubbingherfaceintomychest,tryingtofighthertiredness.IwanttogiveherachancetofallasleepbeforeIstandup.
“Whatamagnificentplaceforagarden,”mymothersays.“Youthinkhechosethisplaceonpurpose,hopingyou’dcomebackintohislife?”
Ishrug.“Iwasactuallywonderingthatmyself,butIdidn’twanttoassume.”Ipause,thenturnandlookatherafterherquestionactuallyregistersBackintohislife?InevertoldherAtlaswasafriendfrombackinMaine.Ijustassumedshedidn’trememberhim.
IassumedshehadnoideathattheAtlasinmylifenowwasanyonefrommypast.
Shecanseethesurpriseonmyface,soshesays,“It’sauniquename,Lily.Irememberhim.”
Ismile,butI’malsoconfusedastowhysheneverbroughtitupbeforenow.I’vebeendatinghimforoversixmonths,andshe’sbeenaroundhimahandfuloftimes.
IguessIshouldn’tbesurprised,though.Mymotherhasalwaysbeenalittlehardtogettoopenup.Ican’tblameher.Shespentyearswithamanwholefthernovoice,soI’msureit’sbeenhardforhertolearnhowtouseitagain.
“Whydidn’tyoueversayanything?”Iaskher.
Sheshrugs.“Ifiguredyouwouldbringituptomeifyouwantedmetoknow.”
“Iwantedto,butIdidn’twantittofeelawkwardforyoubeingaroundhim.NotafterwhatDaddidtohim.”
Shelooksawayfromme,hereyesscanningthebackyard.She’squietforabeat.“Inevertoldyouthis,butIspoketoAtlasonce.Kindof.Icamehomefromworkearlyandthetwoofyouwereasleeponthecouch.Talkaboutashock,”shesays,laughing.“Ithoughtyouweresosweetandinnocent,butthereyouwereonmylivingroomsofaasleepwitharandomboy.Iwasabouttoyellatyou,butwhenhewokeup,helookedsoscared.Notscaredofme,really,nowthatIthinkaboutit.Helookedmorescaredofthepossibilityoflosingyou.Anyway,heleftinaquiethurry,soIfollowedhimoutsidebecauseIwasgoingtothreatenhimandtellhimnevertocomeback.Buthejust…hedidtheweirdestthing,Lily.”
“Whatdidhedo?”Myheartisinmythroat.
“Hehuggedme,”shesays,hervoicetintedwithadropoflaughter.
Myjawdrops.“Hehuggedyou?Youcaughthimwithyourdaughterred-handedandhehuggedyou?”
Shenods.“Hedid.Anditwasaknowinghug,too.Itwaslikehecarriedthisgenuinesorrowforme,andIfeltthatinhishug.Likehewasencouragingme,orcomfortingme.Andthenhejust…walkedaway.Ineverevengotthechancetoyellathimforbeinginmyhousewithyouunsupervised.Maybethatwashisplan—itcouldhavebeenamanipulationtactic,Idon’tknow.”
Ishakemyhead.“Itwasn’tatactic.”ConsiderateAtlas.
“Iknewyouwereseeinghim.AndIknewyouwerehidinghimfromyourfatherratherthanme,soIdidn’ttakeitpersonally.IneverinterferedbecauseIlikedthatyouhadsomeone,Lily.”Shegesturestowardthehousebehindus.“Andnowlook.Youhavehimforever.”
ThatstorymakesmesqueezeEmersonalittletighter.
“Itmakesmehappytoknowthere’samaninyourlifethatgivesmeaningfulhugslikethat,”mymothersays.
“Hegivesmorethangreathugs,”Ideadpan.
Mymotherscoffs.“Lily!”Shestandsup,shakingherhead.“I’mgoinghomenow.”
I’mlaughingtomyselfassheleaves.ThenIusemyfreehandtotextAtlas.
Iloveyousomuch,youidiot.ChapterThirty-SevenAtlas
“Areyouseriouslyabouttodothis?”Theoasks.
I’mstandinginfrontofamirror,adjustingmytie.Theoissittingonthecouch,attemptingtoconvincemetolethimreadmyvowsbeforethewedding.“I’mnotreadingthemtoyou.”
“You’regoingtoembarrassyourself,”hesays.
“I’mnot.They’regood.”
“Atlas.Comeon.I’mtryingtohelpyou.ForallIknow,youprobablyendthemwithsomethinglike,Itismywishforyoutobemyfish.”
Ilaugh.Idon’tknowhowhestillcomesupwiththeselinesaftertwoyearsofthis.“Doyoupracticeyourinsultswhenyoulieawakeatnight?”
“No,theycomenaturally.”
Someoneknocksonthedoorandopensitacrack.“Fiveminutes.”
IgivemyselfonemoreglanceinthemirrorbeforeturningtoTheo.“Where’sJosh?Ineedtomakesurehe’sready.”
“I’mnotsupposedtotellyou.”
Itiltmyhead.“Whereishe,Theo?”
“LasttimeIsawhim,hewasinthegazebowithhistonguedownsomegirl’sthroat.He’sgonnamakeyouagrandadsoon.”
“I’mhisbrother.I’dbeanuncle,notagrandad.”Ilookoutthewindow,butthegazeboisempty.“Gofindhim,please.”
JoshandIarealotalike,buthe’salittlebitmoreconfidentwithgirlsthanIwasatthatage.Hejustturnedfifteen,andsofar,thisismyleast-favoriteage.I’msurewhenhe’soldenoughtodrivenextyear,it’sgoingtoagemeanentiredecade.
Ineedtothinkaboutsomethingelse.I’malreadynervous.MaybeTheoisright,andIshouldlookovermyvowsagaintomakesurethere’snothingIwanttochangeoradd.
Ipullthepageoutofmypocketandunfoldit,andthengrabapenincaseIwanttomakeanyverylast-minutechanges.
DearLily,
I’musedtowritingyoulettersthatnooneelsewilleverread,whichmaybewhyIhadadifficulttimewhenIfirstattemptedtowritethesevows.Theideathattheyweregoingtobereadoutloudtoyouinfrontofotherpeoplewasalittlebitterrifying.
Butvowsaren’tmeanttobesomethingyoumakeinprivate.Thepurposeofavowistomakeanintentionalpromisethatiswitnessed,whetherit’switnessedbyGod,orfriendsandfamily.
Ithastomakeyouwonder,though,oratleastitmademewonderwhatthepurposeisbehindtheneedforapublicvow.Icouldn’tstopmymindfromquestioningwhatmusthavehappenedinthepasttocreatethenecessityforlovetobewitnessed.
Doesitmeanthatsomewherealongtheway,apromisewasbroken?Aheartwasshattered?
It’sdisappointingifyoureallysitandthinkaboutwhyvowsevenexist.Ifwetrustedeveryonetokeeptheirword,vowswouldn’tbenecessary.Peoplewouldfallinlove,andthey’dstayinlove,faithfully,forever,theend.
Butthat’stheissue,Iguess.We’repeople.We’rehuman.Andhumanscansometimesbedisappointing.
Thatrealizationledmedownanotherpathinmythoughtprocesswhilewritingthesevows.Ibegantowonder,ifhumansaresooftendisappointingandsorarelysuccessfulatlove,whatcanwedotoensureoursisalovethatwillstandthetestoftime?Ifhalfofallmarriagesendindivorce,thatwouldmeanhalfofeverysetofvowsevermadehaveendedupbroken.Howdoweensurewe’renotoneofthecoupleswhobecomesastatistic?
Unfortunately,Lily,wecan’t.Wecanonlyhope,butwecan’tguaranteethatthewordswestandhereandpromiseoneanothertodaywon’tendupinthefileofadivorcelawyerafewyearsdowntheroad.
Iapologize.Irealizethesevowsaremakingmarriagesoundlikeanextremelydepressingcyclethatonlyendshappilyhalfthetime.
Butforsomeonelikeme,that’sactuallykindofexciting.
Halfthetime?
Fifty-fifty?
Oneoutoftwo?
IfsomeonewouldhavetoldmewhenIwasateenagerthatIwouldhaveafifty-fiftychanceoflivingmyentirelifewithyou,Iwouldhavefeltliketheluckiesthumanontheplanet.
IfsomeonewouldhavetoldmethatIhada50percentchanceofbeinglovedbyyou,IwouldhavewonderedwhatthehellIdidtogetsolucky.
Ifsomeonewouldhavetoldmethatwe’dgetmarriedoneday,andI’dgettogiveyouyourdreamhoneymooninEurope,andthatourmarriagewouldhavea50percentchanceofbeingsuccessful,Iwouldhaveimmediatelyaskedwhatsizeyourringfingerwassothatwecouldgetstarted.
Maybetheideaofloveendingbeinganegativethingissimplyamatterofperspective.Becausetome,theideathatalovecametoanendmeansthat,atsomepoint,therewaslovethatexisted.Andtherewasatimeinmylife,beforeyou,whenIwascompletelyuntouchedbyit.
Theteenageversionofmewouldn’thaveseenpotentialheartbreakasabadthing.Iwasjealousofanyonewhohadeverlovedsomethingenoughtoexperiencelosingit.Beforeyou,Ihadnevermetloveatall.
Butthenyoucamealong,andyouchangedthat.NotonlydidIgettheopportunitytobethefirstpersontoeverfallinlovewithyou,butIalsogottoexperienceasharedheartbreakwithyou.Andthen,likeamiracle,Iwasgiventheopportunitytofallinlovewithyoualloveragain.
Twotimesinonelife.
Howcanonemanbesolucky?
Allthingsconsidered,thefactthatImadeithere,thatwemadeithere,toourweddingday,isquitefranklymorethanIeverdreamedIwouldgetoutoflife.Onebreath,onekiss,oneday,oneyear,onelifetime.I’lltakewhateveryou’llgiveme,andIvowthatIwillcherisheverysecondI’mluckyenoughtospendwithyoufromthismomenton,justasI’vecherishedeverysecondI’veeverspentwithyoubeforethismoment.
Optimisticallyspeaking,wecouldliveourentirelivestogether,happily,untilwe’reoldandfrailandittakesanentiredayformejusttoreachyourlipstokissyougoodnight.Ifthathappens,IvowthatIwillbeimmenselygratefulforthelovethatcarriedusthroughourlifetogether.
Pessimisticallyspeaking,wecouldbreakeachother’sheartsagaintomorrow—Iknowwewon’t,butevenifwedid,IvowthatIwillbeimmenselygratefulforthelovethatledtothatheartbreakuntilthedaythatIdie.Ifit’smydestinytoendupastatistic,there’snooneelseI’dratherbecomeastatisticwiththanyou.
ButyouoncetoldmeIwasarealist,soIwanttoendmyvowsrealistically.Inmyheart,Ibelievewe’regoingtoleaveheretodayandfaceajourneytogetherthat’sfullofhills,valleys,peaks,andcanyons.Sometimesyou’regoingtoneedmetoholdyourhanddownthehills,andsometimesI’llneedyoutoleadmeupthemountain,buteverything,fromthispointforward,we’regoingtofacetogether.It’syouandme,Lily.Ingoodtimesandbad,forricherorpoorer,insicknessandinhealth,inthepastandforforever,youaremyfavoriteperson.Alwayshavebeen.Alwayswillbe.Iloveyou.Everythingthatyouare.
Atlas
Iexhale,thepagetremblinginmyhand.They’reexactlyhowIwantthem,soIstarttofoldthepaperwhenJoshwalksintotheroom.He’sjoinedbyDarin,Brad,Theo,andMarshall.
Marshallisholdingopenthedoor.“Youready?It’stime.”
Inod,morethanready,butbeforeIstuffmyvowsbackintomypocket,Idecidetomakeonesmallchange.Idon’ttouchanythingalreadywritten,butIdoaddalinetotheveryend.
P.S.Itismywishforyoutobemyfish.Acknowledgments
ItEndswithUsistheonebookIhavebeenadamantthatIwouldneverwriteasequelfor.Ifeltlikeitendedwhereitneededtoend,andIdidn’twanttoputLilythroughmorestress.
Butthen#BookTokhappened,andtheonlinepetition,andthemessagesandvideos,andIrealizedmostofyouweren’taskingformetoputthemthroughmorepain.YousimplywantedtoseeLilyandAtlashappy.WhenIstartedplayingaroundwithanoutline,IquicklyrealizedhowmuchIneededtoseeLilyandAtlashappyaswell.Foreveryonewhoaskedformore,thankyou.Thisbookwouldn’texistwithoutyou.
Ihavesomanypeopletothank,andnotnecessarilyfortheexistenceofItStartswithUs,butmoreforthecontinuedsupportovertheyearsthatresultedinmewritingabookIneverthoughtI’dhavethecouragetocomplete.Fromfamilytofriendstobloggerstoreaderstopublishersandagents,innoparticularorder,IjustwanttosayTHANKYOUforyourcontinuedsupport,andforensuringIcontinuetolovewriting.
LeviHoover,CaleHoover,BeckhamHoover,andHeathHoover.Myfourfavoritemenonthewholeplanet.Icouldn’tdoanyofthisifitweren’tforyourencouragementandsupport.
LinReynolds,MurphyFennell,andVannoyFite.Mythreefavoritewomenontheplanet.
TotheentireBookwormBoxandBookBonanzateamandboardmembers.Thanky’allforeverythingyoudo!
Tomyagents,JaneDystelandLaurenAbramo,andtheentireDystel,Goderich&Bourretteam.
Thankyoutomyeditor,MelanieIglesiasPérez;mypublicist,ArieleStewartFredman;andmypublisher,LibbyMcGuire;andtheentireAtriateam.ThankyoutotheteamsatSimon&SchusterUK,AustraliaandIndiaforallyoudoformybooks.
ToStephanieCohenandEricaRamirez.Thankyouforhelpingmakemydreamscometrueandalwayshavingmybestinterestatheart.Iloveyoubothmorethanwordscansay,andeverytimeIwalkintoouroffice,itfeelslikecominghome.
ThankyoutoPamelaCarrionandLaurieDarterforeverythingyoudoandforkeepingmeentertaineddaily.
ThankyoutotheteamatSimon&SchusterAudioforbringingmybookstolife.
ThankyoutoauthorSusanStokerforbeingsuchachampionforotherauthorsandalwayskeepingusintheknowwithyourweeklymessagesofcongratulations.
Andahugethank-youtothefollowingforalwaysbeingthere:TarrynFisher,AnnaTodd,LaurenLevine,ShanoraWilliams,ChelleLagoskiNorthcutt,TasaraVega,VilmaGonzalez,AnjanetteGuerrero,MariaBlalock,TalonSmith,JohannaCastillo,JennBenando,KristinPhillips,AmyFite,KimHolden,CarolineKepnes,MelindaKnight,KarenLawson,MarionArcher,KayMiles,LindseyDomokur,andsomanyothers.
ThankyoutoCoHorts,BookTok,Weblich,bloggers,librarians,andeveryonewhoputstheirheartsintospreadingyourloveforreading.
Mostofall,thankyoutoeverysinglepersonwhohasevertakenthetimetomessageoremailanauthortoletthemknowwhattheirbooksmeantoyou.Youareahugepartofthereasonwewrite.MorefromtheAuthor
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