by Hazel Kelly
Looking back, I think discomfort made me do it. I think I was just desperate to steer the conversation away from the abuse she suffered at the hands of her father. It was too much for me to take, especially when she was sitting in front of me like that, her beautiful eyes begging me to understand.
To make matters worse, I’d spent years being rewarded for my ability to be logical, but it was impossible to leave my emotions out of this situation, impossible to not feel pain, hurt, and anger over what she’d gone through.
That being said, my own broken heart seemed a minor inconvenience compared to the burden she carried all those years, the burden she was still carrying. Yet as much as I wanted to comfort her in that doctor’s office, I couldn’t. I had to digest what she said before I could determine how I wanted to respond.
I did know one thing, though, which was that she’d suffered enough. So whatever I decided, punishing her for her lies was not an option.
And as furious as I was that she turned her back on me when she needed help, I knew she did it to protect me. It was a bad choice, a wrong choice, but when I thought about it, it made sense.
When I recalled the juvenile stuff I used to run my mouth about back when I was ignorant to her very real problems, it was no wonder she thought I couldn’t handle the truth. I was a kid compared to her, and my love for her—as epic as it was—didn’t mean I could relate.
What went through her head all those times she sat down to dinner with my family? When she saw my mom talk back to my dad? Was that torturous for her or was it a godsend?
Truthfully, I was sort of in awe of her, in awe of what she’d endured without ever asking for help. It would’ve been so easy for her to bring Paige over, tell us what was happening, and let my family protect them. Why hadn’t she done that?
It hurt that I might never understand the flawed reasoning that kept her prisoner there. With him, a man whose face now haunted me to the point that I wished I could forget it. But he was her dad, and she was a kid. I’m sure she thought she was doing her best, and I had no doubt that she would always struggle with how she could’ve done better.
Just like I would always wonder what I could have done or said differently. I could’ve pushed when she changed the subject. I could’ve made more of an effort to spend time over there. No wonder we always hung out at my house.
Still, it was hard to wrap my head around the fact that she’d killed him. I understood why she did it. I understood that she would’ve done anything to protect Paige. She still would. But I didn’t understand what it was like to have that on your conscience.
My dad knew. Javi knew. They’d both pulled triggers and ended lives before. Not that either ever talked about it. But I didn’t know what that was like. Apart from kicking the shit out of a kid who made fun of Paige my junior year, I’d never had to resort to violence, much less think about it. Or live with it…day in and day out while my boyfriend interrupted my nightmare to spin me on tire swings so he could laugh through dizzy kisses.
How did she even tolerate me then?
And how could I not forgive her demeaning career move now that I knew the other shit she’d survived? As far as I knew, being an escort was a massive improvement on living with an abuser.
Yet never once had she flinched at my touch or shied away from me. Never once had she given me any indication that she didn’t want me the way I wanted her, that she didn’t trust me with her heart and body and mind. How did she manage to love me like that in spite of everything?
I tightened my robe around me and slumped on the chair in my room atop the pile of clothes I’d been meaning to put away for a week. But I couldn’t be bothered about trivial chores at a time like this.
The woman I’d loved since the day I first saw her roll her eyes from my bedroom window was waiting to hear from me. Or maybe she wasn’t. No. She had to be. If she didn’t want to see me, she wouldn’t have called every day in July and then shown up at the hospital with food for my family. That’s the kind of thing people only do when they give a shit.
So the least I could do was offer a considered response to all the things she’d shared with me.
As far as my dad, I had no intention of speaking to him about it. There was no point in making him relive the events, not only because of the condition of his heart, but because it would only hurt him to know I knew. Not that I viewed him as any less heroic than I did before, but his legacy was all he had (all he’d ever have thanks to his bullshit pension), and in my view, he’d earned the right to not have it questioned.
Besides, at the end of the day, he protected Lily not only because he was a good man with a nose for justice, but because he knew what she meant to me, and for that I would be forever grateful.
But I was grateful to Lily, too, for trusting me with her darkest secrets, for trusting me with her pain.
And I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to make it go away.
F O R T Y O N E
- Lily -
Our place looked massive once the movers carried the furniture out, and with every box that disappeared, it started to look less and less like the home I knew.
“The place looks huge, doesn’t it?” Vivian asked, leaning in the doorway.
I dropped to my knees to tape up another box. “You read my mind.”
“The new pad isn’t as big so don’t get your hopes up.”
“I figured it wouldn’t be,” I said, not too worried about it. After all, it was the people in a place that made it feel like home or not. An apartment could have the nicest view, the swankiest fridge, and the most ballad-worthy water pressure on the block, but if you didn’t like the people on the couch, forget it.
“Are you excited?” she asked, sliding another open box towards me.
“For what? To see the place?”
“Of course.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m nervous you won’t like it.”
“It looked awesome in the pictures.”
“Yeah, but so do half the guys on Tinder.”
“Don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll love it.” To be honest, I kind of felt like she should be the one doing the reassuring, but it was my own fault I hadn’t been to see the place. I was just so busy learning the ropes at my new job and cramming for finals that I hadn’t had the time or energy to go over, much less question her judgement.
Besides, how bad could it be? It was two blocks from a wine bar, three from the closest subway line, and our furniture fit through the door. Best of all, our rent was going to be cut in half, and I could suffer through a lot for that piece of mind.
“Do you need help boxing the rest of these up?”
“You in a hurry or something?” I asked, tearing a piece of packing tape with my teeth.
“No, but we’re paying these hunks by the hour.”
“Right.”
“And one of them might have asked me to go for a drink when they get off.”
“No shit,” I said, smiling. “Which one?”
“The one with the forearms.”
I laughed. “I could’ve sworn they all had forearms.”
“You obviously didn’t check them out as hard as I did.”
“I guess not.”
“He’s the one with the Jersey accent,” she said.
“Got it.”
“Speaking of which,” she asked, “have you heard from your own favorite Jersey boy yet?”
I shook my head. “No, but I’m sure he’s been busy with his family, ya know?”
Her eyes sagged at the corners. “Right. Well, I’m sure he’ll call eventually.”
I shrugged. Sulking about Sebastian was the last thing our moving day needed. Plus, Viv didn’t know all the shit I’d unloaded on him. She thought it was just the escort thing he was trying to forgive, and I wasn’t about to correct her assumption.
Much to my surprise, though, I’d enjoyed a strange lightness since our conversation at the hospital. It didn’t make sense since sharing thos
e secrets could be so ruinous for me, but I think on some level I knew I could trust the Rodriguez men, each of whom had never shown me anything but kindness.
Sure, they might not love me forever like I once hoped, but they were men of integrity, the kind of men that take no joy in gossiping about other people’s regrets.
“Are you sure you don’t need help with this stuff?” she asked, her eyes pinging between the remaining boxes.
“No, it’s fine.”
“In that case, do you mind if I head over in the van with Romeo?”
I raised my eyebrows.
“That’s actually his name.”
“Shit. He doesn’t even need a nickname.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s built right in. How could it not be love?”
“And it’s not even a pirate name.”
“I’m done with pirates,” she said. “I’m only interested in honest, average Romeos who want to wine and dine me and take me home to meet their mothers.”
“Good.”
“Did I tell you I finished my Excel course?”
“That’s great news.”
“I only got a B,” she said. “But that’s above average, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Anyway, I’ll text you the address if you’re happy to follow us over in your car?”
“Sure.”
“It’s different from the one on the listing because we have to use the parking garage with the service entrance, so make sure you check my text.”
“Cool. Will do.”
She blew me a kiss and offered a flirtatious wave. “Okay, see you there. Drive safe!”
“Don’t start kissing Romeo until after he unloads our shit!” I called after her.
“Promise!” she said, closing the door behind her.
Fifteen minutes later, I’d packed up the last boxes and loaded them onto the trolley we borrowed from the utility guy. Then I double-checked that we’d cleared every drawer and closet, said goodbye to all the rooms, and began looking forward to a much needed fresh start.
Once I crammed the last of my possessions into my car and returned the trolley, I squeezed into the driver seat and checked my texts. Sure enough, Vivian had sent me directions to the place, along with instructions for where I should park before heading up to Apt. 847.
The number sounded strange to me, but I figured she was the one who organized the whole thing, so I wasn’t about to second guess her while she was busy making eyes at Romeo.
Out of force of habit, I checked my missed calls to see if I had any from Sebastian before starting the car. But there was nothing. Frankly, I would’ve been relieved to receive a smiling turd emoji at that point… Anything to let me know he didn’t hate me for what I’d told him.
But I guess he wasn’t kidding about needing time.
And Lord knows I’d taken the time I needed years ago, so the least I could do was respect his wishes.
I just hoped I hadn’t made a horrible mistake in not telling him how I felt about him. Obviously, he knew what he meant to me as a teenager, but I feared I hadn’t done enough to convince him that I still wanted to fight for us, that I still wanted him to look past my transgressions and love me anyway.
But I was starting to think that might be asking too much. I mean, how many skeletons can a man forgive before he realizes he’s better off without you?
Thirty minutes later (most of which I spent singing along to Chic to distract myself from how bad my body missed Sebastian), I pulled into the underground parking garage. I looked around for the moving van, but all I could see were flashy cars, which made me hopeful that the place would be nicer than Vivian let on. As per her suggestion, I snagged a place near the service elevator and checked my phone one more time. Apt. 847. Got it.
I grabbed one of the open boxes in the front seat that was full of oddly shaped breakable stuff and made my way over to the elevator, figuring I’d make a fuss over the place before I broke a sweat moving the rest of my belongings. Plus, I was eager to take a closer look at Romeo now that Vivian had expressed her interest.
When I reached the eighth floor, I stepped past a well-dressed woman with a Portuguese waterdog and started scanning each door for the right number, hoping the inside of it would be as nice as the hallway. Seriously, I’d never seen such pretty sconces, and I wasn’t the kind of girl that normally took notice of things like hallway lighting.
A minute later, I found the door and balanced the box on my hip to free a hand for knocking. When no one came right away, I knocked again, and when I was about to bang with my fist, the door drifted open as if by a breeze.
My face fell when I saw the place. It was bright and modern, with all new furniture and fresh-cut flowers and—
Sebastian peeked his head around the door. “Welcome home.”
F O R T Y T W O
- Sebastian -
Her face fell with the box, but I was quick enough to catch the latter.
“I don’t—what’s—where’s—?”
“Take a deep breath,” I said, setting the open box on the table by the door.
Lily stepped inside and looked around before setting her sights back on me. “What’s going on? Where’s Vivian?”
“I like Vivian and everything, but I really only have room for one of you.”
She furrowed her brow. “But she—and the van—”
“You’re cute when you’re speechless.”
She blushed.
“Will I catch you up?”
She nodded. “Please.”
“Vivian and I—”
“You don’t even know her.”
“Actually I do,” I said. “She called and gave me an earful a few days ago.”
Her eyes grew wide.
“I guess she thought I was being an asshole.”
She scrunched her face.
“Anyway, I charmed her instantly.”
She rolled her eyes.
“And she was all too happy to go along with my idea.”
“Which was what?” she asked. “To ambush me?”
“I thought you’d be excited.”
“I might be if I knew what the hell was going on.”
“You’re moving in with me.”
“But she’s—”
“Moving in with Tiffany.”
“Tiffany,” she repeated. “Shit.”
“Everybody wins,” I said. “I mean, I win most, but—”
“You haven’t called me in weeks.”
“I didn’t know what to say.”
She craned her neck forward.
“I still don’t.”
She covered her face.
“I only know what I feel,” I said, pulling her hands down and holding them in mine. “Which is that I love you, Lily. I’m always going to love you.”
“But what about everything I told you? What about everything I’ve done?”
“I’ve thought about it,” I said. “All of it. A lot.”
She swallowed. “And?”
“And I can forgive your past. I can forgive everything.”
Her eyes searched mine.
“In fact, turns out there’s only one thing I can’t forgive.”
“What’s that?”
“Myself, if I let you slip away again.”
“Sebastian—”
“It occurred to me that you might want to start over, that you might prefer to take things slow, but I don’t want that. I don’t want to waste any more time pretending I don’t know what I want. Because I do know.”
She took a deep breath and tightened her grip on my hands.
“It’s you, Lily. It’s always been you, and it’s always going to be you. And nothing you told me changes any of that.”
“But—”
“I don’t want to hear any buts,” I said. “Excuses and doubts have never done anything but come between us.”
She glanced down at our clasped hands, and I studied the way her dark lashes looked against her ch
eeks.
“I want to make up for lost time. I want to wake up beside you every morning. And to be honest, I’ve come to the conclusion that you make terrible decisions when I let you out of my sight.”
She laughed.
“I’m glad you think that’s funny,” I said. “Because I’m liable to go straight up caveman on anyone who even looks at you sideways from now on.”
“I can protect myself.”
“Bullshit. I want the job.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to be a liability for you, Sebastian. I don’t want to be one more thing you have to worry about.”
“Tell me what you want then.”
“I want you to look at me the way you did before I told you all that stuff.”
“Do you not feel like I’m doing that?”
“No, you are,” she said, her eyes smiling. “I just mean that’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.”
My heart swelled. “I love you, Lily. I hope someday we can laugh about the day I tricked you into moving in with me.”
She sighed. “That was a pretty good trick.”
“It would’ve been better if all your stuff was already here when you showed up. Then it would be way harder for you to back out.”
“I’m not going to back out,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I’ve never been so happy to skip ahead.”
“It was inevitable, though, wasn’t it? This? Us?” I pushed some hair out of her face. “Do you believe that as much as I do?”
“I do.”
I pulled her to me and held her head against my chest. “Thank you for not being pissed.”
She leaned back. “Pissed?! This is the best surprise of my life! Don’t get me wrong. Vivian was a great roommate, but you’re way sexier.”
“And you haven’t even seen my slippers yet.”
“Oh wow. So much to look forward to.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Exactly when is my stuff going to arrive?” she asked, looking around. “Not that I don’t love what you’ve done with the place.”
“Tomorrow afternoon.”
“Right.” She tilted her head at me. “Do your parents know?”