She grins. “Don’t let age scare you from chasing your dreams. It’s only a number. When you were ten, you decided you were going to learn the periodic table, so you did. When you were twelve, you found out Harry across the street lost his job, and you led a fundraiser to make sure they had enough money for the holidays. And when you were fourteen, when your brother broke his arm and we had to go to the hospital, you decided you wanted every kid in the hospital to receive a card, so you and Felicity spent two weeks drawing and coloring to make sure every kid had a card.” She shrugs. “You decided you wanted to write a blog, so you wrote a blog. You’ve always been able to accomplish whatever you set your mind to. Why would you stop just because you’re going to be thirty?”
“The job I was offered is in LA.”
“You were offered it, or you accepted it?” Her blue eyes stare at me, a hint of redness revealing this is going to be even harder than I’d feared.
“I…” I swallow, shifting my attention to the cards because it hurts to look at her. “I accepted it.”
Seconds tick by in silence.
“Well, maybe you’ll love it.”
My eyes dart to her face, catching a watery smile she quickly wipes away.
“If this is what you want, you should do it.” She reaches across the table and lays her hand atop mine. “Distance won’t change anything. We’ll always be family.”
I take a deep breath and pick up my cards.
“If you don’t like your cards, you make your own hand. Discard the bad ones and wait until the good ones come,” she says, patting my hand again.
I want to tell her how I don’t know how to pick the good cards. That the ones I thought were good ended up breaking my heart. Instead, I focus on losing so Grammy can win.
The next day, I go to lunch with my brother to share the news with him. His reaction takes longer, the thought percolating through a fine sieve of questions that he quickly fires off until he realizes I don’t have any answers.
“I’m not telling you not to go, but maybe you should think about this a little more,” he says. “I mean, Grammy is getting older, I’m thinking of asking Kim to marry me, and Felicity’s about to have a baby. Do you really want to be living on the other side of the country?”
“There are planes, phones, video calls. I’ll probably see you by phone more than I see you in person now.”
He cocks his head to the side. “This isn’t because of Gabe, is it? Because I know you loved him, Sis, but I always knew he wasn’t right for you. I think if you thought about it, you’d realize it, too.”
I shake my head. “This has nothing to do with—” My heart rate spikes as I prepare to say his name, realizing I never introduced Brandon to Levi, never even shared about him because I’d been so worried it would only be temporary. My skin warms, recalling the heat of his touch, the weight of his stare. I blink, and each time I do, a new memory of Levi is painted on the backs of my eyelids.
“Sorry I’m late!” Kim appears, peeling off a heavy jacket. “How are you?” she asks, looking to me. “What did I miss?”
Brandon fills her in while I pick at my fries. My appetite still hasn’t returned.
42
“Are you sure you want to get rid of all this?” Felicity asks, staring at the pile of boxes in her foyer. “You don’t even know what’s in them.”
“Exactly. I haven’t opened a single one in the past six months. Clearly, I don’t need whatever’s inside.”
“You could store them here,” she offers.
I shake my head and prepare to tell her again that I don’t need it when the doorbell rings. My heart stops. It does each time someone knocks. “Are you expecting someone?”
Felicity shakes her head. I can’t tell if it’s fear or hope that makes her eyes round, and her hand goes to her chest, but this has become a quick routine for us.
I grip the handle and open it slowly, my heart pounding painfully in my chest when I see Catherine on the other side. She’s wearing an ivory suit with a black blouse. It’s sharp and stunning, a direct contrast to my yoga pants and sweatshirt. Thoughts and words race through my mind, each one falling away before I can articulate it.
“You haven’t returned any of my calls,” she says, pushing her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose even though it’s cloudy and gloomy out.
I swallow. “I haven’t turned my phone on.”
“I sent you emails. Dozens of them.”
I shake my head. “I haven’t been online either.”
She pulls off her sunglasses with a quick jerk. “I know. You haven’t been making regular blog posts.”
My mouth falls open, and my forehead creases with confusion. I’d expected to receive a dozen angry messages from her when I finally chose to turn on my phone, but I never expected her to come over. I should have though, because while I don’t physically have any of the company’s property with me, I’m a personal database filled with useless information that is often pertinent to Catherine.
“What are you doing?” she asks. “What is this nonsense all about?” She waves an arm in the air. “I’ve given you time; now it’s time to come back to work.”
I shake my head to hold back my anger. “I’ve been offered a new job.”
“I know.”
I shake my head again. “I’m not coming back to Glitter and Gold.”
She huffs. “Is this about money?”
“How did you know I was offered another job?”
“How do you think I know? You’re smart. Connect the dots.”
“You can’t insult me and compliment me in the same sentence. It’s rude and completely demerits the accolade,” I tell her.
She stiffens. “Is this about money? Is that why you accepted the other job?” she repeats the question, punctuating the words with a stern look. “Because if that’s what this is about, we can discuss giving you a raise. I can do it now. How much do you want? Ten percent? Twenty?”
I’m fairly certain I’m going to have to wipe the floor because my jaw has dropped so low. “Do you even realize how much that would be?”
“Do you want more?”
I shake my head. “This … this has nothing to do with money.”
“Then what does it have to do with?”
I stare at her, and though her words differ completely from Grammy’s, I hear the same insinuation behind them—questioning if I’m doing this because of someone else. I wonder if she believes it’s Gabe as well.
“You deceived me,” I tell her. “You’re planning my ex boyfriend’s wedding!”
“Who cares about him?” she snaps.
I pull my head back, shock hitting me like a weight at her lack of surprise or denial. “You intentionally tasked me with the bar so that you could take the wedding and I wouldn’t know.”
“Exactly. I did it as a favor. She wanted the best wedding planner at Glitter and Gold, which is you, and I didn’t put you on it.”
I chuckle, the sound dark and menacing. “Well, thank you so much for that favor.”
“You were always better than Gabe,” Catherine continues, rolling up one of her sleeves, making the bracelets around her wrist jangle. “I waited and waited and waited to introduce you to Levi, and when the chance finally arose, the circumstances definitely weren’t the best, but I cleaned it up as much as I could. I did the wedding to keep you as far away from it as possible. I was so sure that once you and Levi met, you’d forget about Gabe and I’d be able to tell you about the wedding and the entire mess that cockroach of a man created.”
“I don’t want to talk about Levi.”
She holds her chin higher. “Well, that’s tough because we’re talking about him.”
“Why? What’s the point?”
“Because you’re making a mistake, and I’m trying to help you.” She brushes a hand down the lapel of her jacket. “You’ve faced a lot of disappointment in your life.” Her gaze shifts to the wall behind me, her jaw flexing as she takes a breath. “Peo
ple assume what happens to us as children doesn’t carry on into our lives as adults. That we should just suck it up and move forward—make the best of things. But those memories, those events, they influence us. My mother was always a homemaker, but she was a thousand times smarter than my father. She was creative and artistic and strategic. My dad was a drunk for most of my childhood and insisted he be the one to work and she stay home though he went through jobs faster than meals. My mother never told me her dreams or her intentions—I never asked, and she never shared. But watching her give up on herself and the desires I know she had still lives in me. It impacted my marriage, my children, the way I perceive other women and even men.
“Your parents left you. They abandoned you.” Her words are as precise as they are harsh. “It’s why you always focus on the end. You forget the beginning and the middle, and all you care about is the end, which makes you a phenomenal wedding planner but sets you up for continuous disappointment. You can try to say the past is in the past and that it doesn’t matter, but the truth is we are who we are because of our pasts. Those painful parts of our lives influence even the good things.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out a few glossy photos that she offers to me.
My mind is still reeling, working to catch up with all she’s said and all the feelings she’s evoked. I look at the top of the pictures and see the large arch I’d tied tulle and ribbons to and sat over Felicity and Dan’s wedding cake. The next is of the bows tied to the pews at the church. Another is of the table settings, and the last one is a picture of me and Catherine, smiling at the reception. I don’t even remember taking the picture with her.
“What are these?” I pull my chin back and stare at her.
She stares back, her chin still high, ready to spar.
“I don’t even know what we’re referring to right now, so why don’t you just tell me why you’re upset with me so we can both go. Is it because I left Glitter and Gold? Because you can’t find someone else who’s willing to learn your gardener’s name and schedule, or find you recipes and shopping lists, or pick up your coffee and dry cleaning? Because really, if that’s the issue, you need to get a personal assistant and be very upfront with them that their responsibility will literally go far beyond working in the office.”
“I included you. You were family to me, and then you quit, and now you want to move away.”
“I was your lackey.”
“You weren’t my lackey. I was training you. Teaching you everything I knew. You were like a daughter to me. You think I let everyone know that stuff?” She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Do you think those bags and shoes and clothes I gave to you over the years were really for me? I’d fire a personal shopper if they bought things that didn’t fit me and weren’t willing to return them. No. Those were for you.”
“What?” I shake my head. “You constantly complained and griped at me.”
Her eyebrows rise the small fraction of an inch the Botox injections allow them to move. “That’s who I am. That’s how I show my appreciation. Is it the best? Probably not—but it’s me, and after ten years, you should know this better than most.” Her chin quivers. In all the years of working with her, I can’t recall having seen Catherine weak, not even marginally. She quickly wipes the underside of her eyes, raising her chin even higher.
“Stop focusing on the end and work on the middle—the now. You won’t always get a decision in things, but be damn sure that you force your decision on those that you can.” She straightens, taking a deep breath. “When Levi found out who Gabe was, he went to a lawyer and began going through the steps of buying Haley’s shares and selling the others so they could part ways. They were never that close to begin with, but when he found out what she’d done—what Gabe had done—he was so livid he was willing to walk away from everything he’d spent years investing and building. I told him to let me handle things. I assured him I would take care of it, and I failed. Don’t blame Levi. Blame me.”
I shake my head. “He should have told me.”
She nods. “We both should have, but when you love someone, it’s natural to want to shield them from pain.”
Tears swim in my eyes, burning my lower lids. “I thought you’d hate me spending time with him.”
Catherine sputters. “If it had been my way, you two would have been together years ago.”
I stare at her for several seconds, not sure if I’m ready to ask or learn anything more when I’m still trying to process her admission and deny her words.
“Don’t move to LA. Talk to him. Stay at Glitter and Gold. In a few years, when I retire, the place will be yours. That’s the way things are supposed to be.” She puts her sunglasses on and hikes her purse higher on her shoulder. Without saying good-bye, Catherine walks to her car and leaves.
Felicity appears behind me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. Her support is enough.
43
Birthdays are meant for sleeping in. They provide us with the perfect excuse to drink too much, indulge too much, and sleep too much, and yet it’s dark when my alarm goes off. I quickly dress, pulling my hair into a bun, and ignore the thought of makeup entirely. I stare at my reflection. I don’t look any different than yesterday, but today I’m officially thirty. It feels strange. As a kid, thirty seemed so old, and now there are days where seventeen seems like it was yesterday. I spent much of last night considering Catherine’s words. It’s not necessarily the end I’ve always focused on but the deadline, the outcome. I fear if I continue to do this, I’m going to wake up, be sixty, and still be searching for fulfillment and purpose.
I flip off the lights and quietly toe downstairs and outside. It’s cool out this morning, but I started to shake before I got outside. I get into my car, turn the heater on full blast, and drive the two hours it takes me to reach the small airstrip.
My heart is hammering in my chest like a pinball working to break free, but my movements are slow and calculated, fear coursing through me, making it difficult to breathe and remain focused. I’ve spent the past couple of months running from my fears—now I’m running toward my greatest one.
I walk into the small, unassuming building that has a broken light and hedges so large and overgrown they could hide a dead body and pull open the glass door. A short cord of bells rings as I step inside, and when I see him, my stomach plummets.
Levi turns from where he’s standing at the counter, and our eyes lock. Questions and hope have his gaze traveling over me, waiting for me to make a move.
“Is this the birthday girl?” a man says, bringing my attention to where he’s standing on the opposite side of the counter, a pen in his hands and a sheath of papers laid out in front of him.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “You hate heights.”
“Did you come all this way just to remind me of that?”
I realize then his skin is pallid, his hands in fists. I shake my head. “Levi, this is crazy.”
He chuckles—it’s dark and gritty and resonates within the dark chamber within my heart, the part that refuses to believe in happily-ever-afters and knights and therefore built its own shining armor.
“I should have asked more questions,” I tell him, taking another step closer. “I should have demanded you explain things and waited for you to tell me all the details. I was hurt, and I went into reaction mode in an attempt to harness what was left.”
The man behind the counter clears his throat and places a hand on his round belly. “I’ll just give you kids a moment.” He grabs a mug sitting on the counter and backs away, closing a door with a sign that reads “Office” on the back.
Shifting my gaze back to Levi feels like the bravest thing I’ve done since I sent him a text earlier, inviting myself to the baseball game.
“Harness what was left?” Levi cocks his head to the side, though his body remains as still as a statue.
“From the moment I met you, I’ve been drawn to you, and I worked tire
lessly to move past that and ignore my feelings because I knew I shouldn’t like you, let alone love you. But I’ve spent a lot of time running from what we could be, might be—labeling it something fun and short-term, and now I’m running toward it. I’m running toward you.”
Levi’s shoulders visibly drop, and his eyes quickly rove over my face as though expecting to find something—maybe truth or excuses, maybe lies.
“I’m terrible at moving forward. The unknown terrifies me, which is why I’ve worked at the same job for a decade and why I remained in a relationship for six years even though I knew we weren’t meant to be together. I’m sure if I allowed someone into the recesses of my mind, they’d tell you that my parents leaving me, regardless that it was with someone who could raise me better and love me more, was a form of abandonment and because of it, my ability to trust others—even myself—is difficult. I expect most people to leave, which is why Felicity is my only friend, and it’s also why trusting you is so hard—because I never planned to give away my heart. I thought it was impossible, but over these past few weeks, I’ve realized that’s not a conscious choice one makes.”
Levi walks toward me, stopping when we’re toe to toe. He places a hand on my chest over my heart, and that heat—that sense of branding—is left on my skin. Tears return once more, and my lips curl, grateful to feel it again.
“If you give me your heart, you’re never getting it back.” His words are a whisper, his gaze intense.
“I won’t ever want it back.”
He nods once, and then his hand moves to my jaw, and he’s kissing me, breathing air into my lungs and stealing the last traces of doubt from me.
“I love you,” he says. “I love you so damn much.”
My heart sighs. I can feel it through every cell of my body. “I love you, too.” I pull back to look at him, recognizing the silent words in his eyes because I feel them in my soul.
“We don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “Skydiving was kind of a joke.” I step closer to him. My body, my heart, and even my soul want to feel him—need to have him close. “You have to stop listening to Felicity. She’s not an oracle.”
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