“I, uh…” I hold up the gift-wrapped box. “I brought something for Nova. Is she here?”
His eyes narrow. “No, she’s not.”
“Oh…okay.” I look back at my empty house, wondering if it’s worth my time to hang around until she gets home. “Will she be back soon?”
“No.”
I turn back to Noah. It’s clear he doesn’t want me here and doesn’t want me around his daughter. One would think I’d be used to that feeling—of not being wanted—with the way my parents are, but I don’t think a person ever gets used to that.
“Will you give her this?” I lift the box toward Noah, and he opens the door wider, taking it from my hands. “Please tell her that I love her and I’m thinking of her every single day.”
Noah’s eyes harden. “Don’t do this.” He shakes his head in disgust. “Don’t make this harder on her than it’s already going to be.”
Noah tries to hand the box back, but I take a step away from him, refusing to take it.
“I’m not trying to make things harder,” I tell him. “But I promised her a princess dress, and I don’t break promises.”
“You also promised that you’d catch me if I fell,” he sneers. “Instead you let me land face first, and if I was hesitant about moving on before, I’m damn sure I’ll never leap like that again.”
My cracked heart shatters, falling in tiny little pieces around me. “You’re wrong. I would’ve caught you. I still will if you give me the chance. But you never jumped, Noah. You have to meet me halfway. The truth is, I love you. And I love that little girl. I would fight for both of you until the day I die, but I can’t fight for someone who won’t fight for me. I deserve better than that. So goodbye.”
Lennon turns, fleeing from my life almost as fast as she entered it, and the ache in my chest gets stronger with each step she takes toward her car. When she pulls out of the driveway, I feel like my fucking heart is being ripped from my chest and dragged along the road behind her.
After finding out about the drugs, I thought it would be easy to forget about her, to push my feelings aside. It hasn’t been easy at all. In fact, it’s been damn near impossible. I think about her all the time, and when she showed up at my door, I was reminded of just how strong my feelings for her remain. But I can’t act on them. Despite what I feel for her, I can’t let her back into our lives because she’s clearly not who I thought she was. Even if she’s telling the truth, I’m not sure it’s worth the risk.
Pissed off that I’m letting my feelings for her override the anger I need to focus on, I slam the door shut and stalk down the hall, ignoring Nova when she pops her head out of her bedroom and asks where I’m going.
In my bedroom, I toss the box on my dresser and stare at the offending glittery paper, trying to decide whether or not to give it to Nova. And the fact that I’m even considering not giving it to her makes me a top contender for worst father ever.
Nova will love the dress, I’m sure of it. She’ll probably love it almost as much as she loves the woman who made it. But can I stand to see her in it day after day? Will it be a constant reminder of the life I could’ve had—the life I almost had? Who am I kidding, that life is a lie now.
For three long, lonely weeks, the box stays on my dresser. I’ve stared at it. I’ve cursed at it. I’ve even picked it up and thrown it in the trash—only to drag it back out seconds later. Now it’s sitting on the coffee table, bearing the weight of my heavy gaze.
The past three weeks have worn me down more than I ever could’ve imagined. Nova and I only had Lennon in our lives for a short time, but we feel her absence every day. I’m not sure who misses her more, me or Nova.
It took a week for Nova to start asking questions. Where’s Lennon? Why hasn’t she come by? Can we go see her?
In week two, I told her that Lennon wouldn’t be coming back. I made up some bullshit about Lennon having to go home where her family is. She’s too young for the truth. Even without it, she was a complete mess. Seeing my daughter cry like that was my undoing, and it was the first time I really second-guessed my decision to remove Lennon from our lives. But then I looked at the pictures on the internet and reminded myself that she isn’t the person I thought she was, and I can’t let someone like that into our lives.
So here we are, on day twenty-one of fucking misery, and the guilt has eaten at me so much that I have to give Nova the dress. I hope it will give her a nice memory of Lennon, as I can never tell her the truth. As much as I hate it, it isn’t right for me to keep something from her I know she’ll love, especially when it was made with so much love.
I’ve never—not once—doubted Lennon’s love for Nova. In a fit of anger, I may have said some things suggesting as much, but my heart knows Lennon loves my little girl. It’s that sentiment that drove me to bring the box into the living room.
“You’re finally gonna give it to her, huh?”
I nod, looking up at Mikey. “Looks like it.”
“You’re doing the right thing.” He hands me the beer he just pulled from the refrigerator and takes a seat next to me on the couch. “How ya holding up?”
“Still don’t want to talk about it, Mike,” I warn, taking a pull from my bottle.
“Okay,” he concedes—a little too easily. It typically takes him at least three tries before he gives up. Fucker is relentless these days. “How about we talk about Ricky.”
“Interesting change of subject.”
“He’s reopening his father’s shop.”
“No shit?” No idea how he’s managing that, but good for him.
“Yup,” Mikey says, taking a drink. “Big ol’ building downtown. New equipment and everything.”
Now that’s fucking strange. “How the hell is he doing that?” Ricky’s been up front with me about the debt he was left with after his father’s death. His dream has always been to reopen the shop, but that kind of equipment would cost hundreds of thousands of dollars that Ricky doesn’t have.
Downing the rest of his beer, Mikey puts his bottle on the coffee table and stands up. “You should go down there and ask him yourself.”
“Or you could just tell me.”
Because I don’t feel like going anywhere. I feel like staring at this goddamn box. Maybe if I stare long enough, it’ll reveal just how the fuck I’m supposed to move on once it’s opened. Or maybe answer the one question I can’t seem to get out of my mind:
Did I make a mistake?
A grin stretches over Mikey’s mouth. “Where’s the fun in that? It’s a great story, and he should be the one to tell you.”
I glance again at the box on the coffee table. My mom took Nova shopping today and won’t be home for another hour or so. What the hell.
“Let’s go.”
“Thought you’d never ask.” With way too much pep in his step, Mikey walks to the door.
What the hell has gotten into him?
I’m careful not to look at Lennon’s house as we climb into Mikey’s truck and pull out of the driveway. Every time I catch a glimpse of it, the feelings start creeping back in. Who am I kidding? They’ve never really left. But I’ve done a damn good job of trying to suppress them, and when I look at her house, I have to spend a couple of days pushing them back down again. So it’s best if I don’t even go there.
We make the short drive into town, and I’ll be damned if there isn’t a brick building on the main drag with a large sign that reads Custom Cycles.
Mikey parks in front, and we head inside. Ricky spots us as soon as we walk through the door.
“Noah!” Wiping his hands on a rag, he comes over and offers his hand for a shake. “I’m glad you stopped by. I’ve got something to show you.”
“Looks like you’ve got a lot to show me. Congratulations, man. When did all this happen? I knew you were wanting to do it, but I didn’t think you were planning it this soon.”
Ricky shakes his head. “I wasn’t.” The smile on his face is permanent. “I swear to God I w
as gonna tell ya, but it all happened so fast. Plus,” he says, nudging me in the arm, “I’m sure Lennon told you everything.”
Huh? “Lennon?” My eyes move from Ricky’s bright-ass smile to Mikey’s grin. “What does Lennon have to do with all this?”
I look around to find boxes strewn about and tools and equipment lying all over the floor. It’s obvious he still has a lot of work to do.
“She didn’t tell you?” Ricky asks, his smile finally faltering. “Shit,” he hisses. “Maybe I wasn’t supposed to tell you either.”
“Tell me what?” I ask, growing frustrated.
Ricky looks to Mikey for guidance, but Mikey throws his hands up. “Just tell him, man.”
“She’s gonna fucking kill me, isn’t she?”
“Probably not,” Mikey says. “She’s already invested this much. If you’re dead, you’re no good to her.”
Ricky glares at Mikey and then turns to me. “Remember that night I saw you at The Loading Dock?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I ran into Lennon outside of the bathrooms, and she asked me about Dad’s old shop. She said she wanted to see some of my designs, so we exchanged emails, and I sent her some photos.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I shake my head. “And…”
He shrugs. “And the rest is history.”
“What am I missing?”
Ricky holds up his finger. “Hold on. I have something you have to see.”
He disappears into the back of the building, and I turn to Mikey. “Why in the world would she invest in a motorcycle shop? She knows nothing about motorcycles. And no offense to Ricky, but she doesn’t even know him.”
Mikey claps a hand on my shoulder. “Because of you, Noah. She did this for you. She trusts you. Lennon is an investor. That’s what rich people do. You talked Ricky up, and she believed you and trusted you, so she went with it.”
“She told you all that?”
“Nah.” Mikey shakes his head. “But she told Charlotte.”
My jaw nearly hits the fucking floor, but Ricky returns before I can ask anything else.
“Here.” Ricky jogs toward me. “Check this out.”
He hands me a piece of paper with a computerized drawing of the custom bike I’ve discussed with him.
“What is this?”
“That’s your bike.” Ricky shoots Mikey a look. “Is he for real?”
“Be patient,” Mikey says, laughing. “He’s processing a lot right now, and I’m guessing any minute he’s gonna lose his shit.”
“I’m right here, assholes,” I growl. “And I know it’s the fucking bike I want, but what is this?” I wave the paper in front of Ricky’s face.
“It’s not the bike you want,” he says, grabbing the picture out of my hand. “It’s the bike you’re going to get. It’s already in production. It’ll probably take me about six months or so, but you’ll have it by next summer.”
I’m at a complete loss for words. “I…I can’t afford this right now. You should’ve talked to me first, Ricky.”
He shrugs. “It’s already paid for.”
Blood starts roaring through my ears. “What do you mean, it’s already paid for?”
“Lennon paid me for it. She’s—well, you—are the first client of Custom Cycles. And she didn’t hold back, brother. You’ll have the best of the best.”
A wave of dizziness washes over me, and I reach for the closest thing to hold on to, which happens to be Mikey. I can’t believe this.
“Why would she do this?”
I don’t even realize I’ve spoken the words aloud until Mikey answers.
“Because she loves you.”
My head snaps up.
“Don’t look so surprised,” he says, laughing.
“Why didn’t she back out after we broke up?” I ask, my world spinning faster and faster.
“Wait. You guys broke up?” Ricky asks.
Mikey waves him off. “They’re just taking a break. Noah here is about two seconds from realizing he made a huge fucking mistake, at which time the break will end and the prince and princess will live happily ever after.”
“You watch too many Disney movies with Nova,” I mumble.
“Your fault, dude. You made a such a cute freaking kid. I can’t tell her no. Now, what about Lennon?”
“I can’t do this, Mike. All of this is great. The shop and the bike—which I can’t accept—but it doesn’t change anything.”
“It could change everything.”
“You believe her?” I ask hesitantly, because I already know the answer.
“I do, because I know her.”
“She was arrested for drugs, Mikey.” I shake my head, still in disbelief over that one. “How can I believe her when she says they weren’t hers? That’s just what Kim used to say to me. How do I put someone like that in my daughter’s life?”
Mikey looks at me in utter disbelief. “When are you going to stop making excuses and realize that Lennon isn’t Kim? Son of a bitch, Noah, I’ve never known you to be such a prick.”
“This is my life, Mikey,” I yell, jabbing a finger into my chest. “This is my daughter’s life.”
“Yes.” He nods. “I get that. So do the both of you a favor and pull your head out of your goddamn ass and bring that woman home.”
I run my fingers through my hair as prickles of regret stab through my chest. Suddenly I realize I can’t hide anymore—and that’s what I’ve been doing. Hiding. All this with Ricky and the bike confirms what I should already know—what I should never have doubted. The Lennon I got to know is the real Lennon. She’s kind and good, and she came to Heaven doing her best to move past a difficult situation. In the midst of everything else, I lost sight of what I already knew.
I look at the clock. Nova should be home any minute. Suddenly I’m even more anxious to see the dress Lennon made for Nova.
“What if I—”
“No what-ifs, man. You can’t do that to yourself, and you can’t do that to her. You have a decision to make. You either believe the girl, in which case you need to apologize your ass off for being such a fucking dick, or you don’t believe her, and you let her go for good.”
I swallow hard.
She’s a part of me. Why has it taken me this long to accept that?
“I need to get home.”
Mikey smiles. “By all means.” He motions toward the door. “Let’s get you home.”
When we walk through the front door, Nova is sitting on the couch, staring at the box on the coffee table.
“She’s been waiting for you to get home,” Mom says.
“Is this for me, Dad?” Nova asks, fingering the bow on top.
I smile, and it isn’t the dead, lifeless smile I’ve been faking for the last three weeks. It’s genuine and filled with so much hope that I’m afraid I might burst. “It is.”
She looks up, her eyes wide with excitement. “Is it from Lennon?”
I sit down next to her on the couch and hand her the box. “I guess you’ll have to open it and find out.”
That’s all Nova needs to hear. A second later she’s got the bow ripped off and she’s tearing furiously at the paper. She pulls off the top of the box and begins to squeal.
“It’s my dress!” she yells, sending tissue paper flying across the room. “It’s so pretty. Look at it. And shoes! She got me matching shoes!”
Nova strips out of her clothes in the middle of the living room, shimmies into the dress, and slips on the shoes.
“Do I look like a princess?” She goes up on her tiptoes and twirls, the silky material flaring out around her in waves.
“The most beautiful princess,” I say.
“So pretty,” my mother adds.
Mikey holds out his hand. “Can I have this dance, Princess Nova?”
Giggling, Nova slips her hand into Mikey’s. He twirls her around the room, the rhinestones on her dress sparkling with each dip and turn. Laughing along with Nova and Mikey, I scoop u
p the wrapping paper. Wadding it up in a ball, I throw it in the box and notice a small white envelope. I grab it from the bottom of the box and pull the letter out.
My dearest Nova,
You finally got your dress! I hope it’s everything you wanted it to be and more. Every single second I spent making it, I was picturing you spinning around the room with your prince. I want you to think of me every time you put it on and know that I’m always thinking about you.
Always.
I love you, sweet princess, more than you’ll ever know.
XO,
Lennon
Squeezing my eyes shut, I hold the letter to my chest, hating myself for not giving the dress to Nova sooner. I take a deep breath, building up enough courage to read the letter again, and I do, twice more—absorbing her words this time, letting them penetrate the walls of my heart. Sadness and regret take root deep in my bones as I remember the look on Lennon’s face when I walked away—when I refused to believe her. It’s the look that’s haunted my dreams ever since.
The room around me grows silent, but all I can do is think about the letter in my hands and the girl in my heart and how shitty I feel. I need to make this right.
“Mikey.” I look up and everyone is staring at me. Mikey and Nova have stopped dancing to look at me curiously.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“I need to see Lennon. Think you can help me with that?”
A slow grin spreads across his face. “I can’t, but I know someone who can. You’re going to need a ton of pink Starbursts.”
Pink Starbursts?
“Go,” my mom says, pulling Nova from Mikey’s arms.
We rush from the house and stop by three different gas stations on our way to Tease. Each time, Mikey sends me in to raid their candy section while he talks on his phone. As he drives through town, I open every package of Starbursts we’ve purchased, pulling out the pink ones.
We walk into Tease. People are milling about, with several other stylists working on customers’ hair, but Charlotte is sitting at the front desk, sipping on a soda as though she was waiting for us.
The Truth About Lennon Page 19