Even If

by Bethany Riehl

The bathroom door squeaked open, and soft footfalls, accentuated by the flap-flip-flap of sandals, came close to the couch. Relief and disappointment wrestled for Lillian’s attention.

  Not Chuck.

  Instead it was Viv’s hushed voice that greeted her. “Afternoon, Sunshine.” She spoke low, her voice tranquil for Lillian’s sake.

  Lillian smiled, craning her neck to face Viv, wincing from the action. “Hey,” she croaked. She crossed her eyes and cleared her throat. “I mean hi.”

  Viv laughed at the deep tone Lillian used, and walked in front of her. She handed her the aspirin then water bottle. “Take these. You were due for them an hour ago, but I didn’t want to wake you up.”

  She awkwardly lowered her bulging frame beside Lillian, waiting until she swallowed to ask, “How are you feeling?”

  Lillian held her hand out and rocked it from side to side. “So-so. Better now that I’ve slept, but pretty shaken up. Don’t tell Chuck,” Lillian said, mentioning him in part to find out where he went, “but I’m glad he took me to the doctor. Otherwise, I might be more worried about this headache.”

  Concern clouded Viv’s brown eyes, “Is it worse?” She reached for the stack of after-care papers from the doctor and thumbed through them, “Because we’re supposed to call if—”

  “No,” Lillian held a palm toward Viv. “No, it’s the same. I just would have laid awake tonight scared and wondering if I should have gone for help. Now if I can’t sleep, I can just enjoy the quiet and a movie in peace.”

  “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

  Lillian was taken aback by Viv’s dry tone. “What do you mean?”

  Before Viv could answer, Lillian noticed something amiss in the studio. “Wait. Where’s all of my stuff?”

  Her bookshelf, the movies, the boxes—everything except the couch and hope chest—were missing. She craned her neck and saw that her side table was gone as well.

  Viv spread her hands apologetically. “I hope it’s okay. For the last few days, Dave and I have been moving all of our things to our house. I was just so excited to finally be there. When you called to accept the job today, I was just closing up the apartment after the cleaners had gone through it.”

  Viv hesitated, licking her lips nervously, “We thought it would be fun to move your things into your new apartment.”

  Lillian flicked her eyes back and forth across the mostly empty apartment. “How on earth did you do that so quietly?”

  Viv crossed her arms at the wrists and then slashed them away and down. “You were out. I mean totally, completely out. It wasn’t that hard. But the guys were really careful.”

  “Guys?”

  “Dave and Chuck and a friend of ours, Felix.”

  Lillian rubbed her forehead, unsure how she felt about being moved. Especially while she was sleeping. Her cheeks burned. Had she snored? Talked in her sleep? Confessed her ridiculous, fruitless semi-crush on Chuck?

  Viv settled on the edge of the couch next to her, “Are you mad?”

  Lillian fixed her eyes on a scratch on the floor. “No, not really. Confused. Why did you all move me today?”

  “Well, like I said, I thought it would be fun to surprise you. Plus, you have to have someone stay with you tonight and there isn’t a lot of room in here. I thought you would do better sleeping in a bed. Chuck can sleep on the couch—”

  “Wait, what? Chuck cannot sleep on my couch!” Lillian wrapped her arms around her middle. “I have to sleep on my couch.”

  “Actually, your new apartment comes with a new bed,” Viv interjected. “I even bought you adorable polka dot sheets and a fluffy white comforter at Target earlier today, a special ‘welcome home’ gift.”

  Lillian’s mouth swung open. “Are you serious? Why?”

  Viv lifted one shoulder. “I thought it would be special. When the wreck happened, and then you accepted the job, I thought it would be nice for you to just relax in a real bed. Chuck already talked to Nan, and you aren’t expected at work for another week. I thought in the right setting, you would be able to fully relax and recover from the crazy time you’ve had lately.” She looked uncertain. “Maybe I was too impulsive.”

  Lillian couldn’t speak past the hot lump in her throat. Never had she felt so cared for…or had her life so utterly intruded upon. It was a strange mix of thankfulness and utter confusion. But if she was going to move anyway…

  “Thank you, Viv. Thank you for thinking of this. Though I don’t know how much I’ll be able to appreciate the new place today. I was thinking I should call my mom—tell her about the accident, and then just stay with her. But when I come back, it will be nice to come home to a new apartment. A place where I hope my life can truly start over.”

  Viv waited while Lillian called her mom. The fourth ring was cut short, and Lillian’s phone pinged that she had a text. She swiped the screen and read the text from her mom:

  Hey Sweetie. Can’t answer right now. About to board a plane—Wade surprised me with a trip to Vegas for the weekend! Isn’t he the best?

  A series of smiley faces and kissing emojis followed, and Lillian smiled wryly as she responded.

  Yup. He’s the best. Have a great time.

  She decided to wait until her mom got back home to tell her about the accident; no use worrying her and ruining her getaway. Wade and her mom had been married for just under a year, and he was constantly whisking her mother away on gambling trips. Lillian was glad to see someone dote on her mom after years of listening to her cry over broken relationships.

  “Well, looks like your plan is what we’ll stick with Viv,” Lillian said. She held up her phone and waved it back and forth, “My mom is out of town.”

  As they had the week before, Dave, Viv, Chuck, and Lillian, joined by Felix, ordered in. Once Viv texted the men that Lillian was awake and only slightly indignant, they’d quickly transferred her couch and hope chest to the new apartment. While they waited for the food delivery, Viv and Lillian sequestered themselves in the manager’s office to go through a small pile of paperwork. They finished signing and going over the logistics of Lillian’s new job just as the men arrived with the food.

  Dave and Viv had graciously left the barstools, and as everyone sat around the island again—this time with Italian take-out—Lillian caught herself looking around the kitchen with new eyes.

  I can’t believe this is mine.

  Chuck followed her gaze to the double ovens. “A little bit more space for cooking than your little place, I would guess?”

  Lillian snorted, “Psshh. Just slightly. I cannot wait to bake in here.”

  Chuck raised one hand in the air, “I call dibs on all samples.”

  Dave and Felix slammed their hands on the counter.

  “So do I!”

  “Save some for me, Lillian!” they said, interrupting each other.

  Viv leaned close when the men began to argue about who deserved the treats the most.

  “Can you tell these men are desperate? It’s like I never cook or something.”

  Dave wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gazed at her lovingly. “It’s not that you never do, Babe, it’s just that we’d rather you didn’t.”

  Viv gasped, feigning offense. “Thanks a lot. I’ll have you know that I am an excellent chef.”

  The men turned unblinking eyes her way.

  “Just because my expertise is ordering out, does not make me any less of a chef than Miss Suzy Sunshine Baker over here.” She hooked a thumb in Lillian’s direction. The men laughed.

  Lillian folded her hands on the island, bolstered by their friendly exuberance, “It’s okay, Viv. I’m sure after they try my food, they’ll be begging for your brand of cooking.” She nodded to Chuck. “I’ve already warned Chuck that I cook gluten-free, sugar-free, fat-free—”

  “Flavor-free,” Dave interjected, face squished in disgust as if he’d eaten a bug. The five laughed together long and loud.

  Lillian continued, “Exactly. If that’s your kind of
thing, you are most welcome at my table.” She grabbed the sides of the island, laid her cheek down on the cool quartz counter, and drank in the reality of the lighthearted statement. It truly was hers. She could hardly believe it.

  They finished the meal with lighthearted fun and laughter. After they had worked together to clear the dishes and take out the boxes, the day finally caught up with Lillian, and she excused herself to sit on the couch.

  Viv waddled into the living room. “I’m going to use your bathroom really quick, Lilly, and then we’ll get out of your hair.”

  “We live five minutes away!” Dave exclaimed.

  Viv gave him a playful, withering stare. “I’m pregnant with twins, Dave. I can’t help it if the elevator ride shakes things loose if I haven’t used the restroom right before I ride in it.”

  Chuck and Felix held up their arms as if warding off an attack and gagged in disgust. A smile played on Lillian’s lips as Viv mouthed off before shutting the bathroom door.

  Felix waved good-bye as he got up to leave, and Chuck said he’d be right back. Lillian blushed, still not sure how she felt about him spending the night. She’d insisted to Viv that it was unnecessary, but Viv seemed to feel that it was imperative to Lillian’s health.

  “I promise that Chuck is a real gentleman. You can trust him.”

  Chuck returned, a sleeping bag and pillow tucked under his arm. Lillian watched him bid goodnight to the Murpheys, and she waved when Viv called out one last goodnight.

  The front door closed. The air hummed with awkward silence. Lillian understood now that she wasn’t afraid of Chuck’s character, but rather that she would fall even harder for him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Alright, Sickie,” Chuck clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “You let me watch Star Wars earlier. You’ve had a long day, and I’ve prepared myself; what do you want to watch?”

  “Hmm…” a smile toyed across her face. She slanted her eyes coyly toward the movies the men had packed in a box and set by the T.V. “It has been a while since I’ve watched Steel Magnolias.”

  Chuck blanched. “The one where all the southern women sit around a salon and talk and talk and talk, and one dies and another completely freaks out?”

  “Yup. That’s the one.”

  The look of horror on Chuck’s face was classic. Lillian laughed before putting him out of his misery. “No worries, Chuck, I don’t even own that movie. I’m not sure how late I’ll make it, so let’s just pick something on Netflix, okay?”

  “If that’s what you want,” he spread his hands casually, but the relief in his eyes was comically telling. “I’m going to make popcorn; you pick whatever you want to watch.”

  “I don’t think I have any.”

  “I do at my place. Be right back.”

  “Before you go, Chuck…” Lillian wet her lips, hoping that he would hear her out and not be put off.

  He turned, one hand on the door handle, eyes open. “Yeah?”

  She pulled oxygen into her lungs through her nose and held it. “I really don’t feel comfortable with you spending the night. It’s not you, I just…I mean, it’s weird, right?” she slowly released the breath. Would he understand?

  Chuck watched her face, his own softening. “I understand. Do you mind if we have that popcorn, and I hang out a while?”

  She felt her lips curve in a shy smile. “Not at all.”

  Chuck matched her grin. “Be right back,” he said.

  During dinner, the men had informed her that they made sure to set up the T.V. and had checked to be sure the smart player was up and running. Lillian found the remote on the empty bookshelf—noticing that they had tried to recreate the same set up she’d had in the studio. She stood in the middle of the living room, turning slowly to imagine in her mind how she’d arrange the furniture once she felt better. Chuck found her that way and, setting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, rushed over to grasp her elbow.

  “Are you dizzy?”

  She looked up into his face, aware of how up close and personal she was with his storm-cloud eyes and the shadow of stubble across his chin and cheeks. Her mouth went dry, and her arm tingled from the warmth of his calloused hand. She was close enough to smell the delicious spice of his soap, and touched a hand to her temple. Dizzy? No. At least not until he stepped so close, and she dared to look into those indigo eyes.

  “Uh…no. Nope.” She gently pulled her arm away and stepped back slightly.

  The couch was mercifully close, and she plopped onto the cushions as casually as she could. “I was just checking out the room, picturing where to put my stuff later.”

  He hung his hands on his hips and looked around. “We set it up like you had it before. T.V. there, couch there, bookshelf here.”

  Lillian bit her lower lip, taming the smile that hovered beneath the surface. “Yes, Chuck, but I lived in a space the size of a postage stamp. That arrangement was the only possible one. This room has endless possibilities.” She spread her arms out for emphasis.

  Chuck took in the room with new eyes, his lower lip pushed out in thought. “Okay. I can do that for you. Where do you want everything?”

  “Really?”

  Chuck nodded, and Lillian jumped up, ignoring the ache in her neck and back. The idea of moving things around that night thrilled her more than it should have. She had loved her little studio, but the new place made her realize how cramped she’d been over the last few months. It was her turn to rub her hands together.

  “Alrightythen. The T.V. can stay where it is, but the couch needs to go over here…”

  In no time, the bookshelf was moved to a narrow wall near the door, between the office and the kitchen. The couch was angled to create a more open, welcoming space with the coffee table—wheels now permanently locked—aligned in front of it. When the furniture was just how she’d pictured it, and the ornate rug Viv had left perfectly centered in the middle, Lillian squeezed Chuck’s arm with glee. And without thought.

  Oh, hello muscles. Yeesh. She felt a blush crawl up her neck. Aloud she said, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  Chuck smiled down at her. “Not a problem.”

  She felt the low rumble of his voice vibrate against her knuckles where they brushed against his ribs. Embarrassed, she released her grip and stepped back. She scooped up the popcorn bowl from where he’d left it on the empty bookshelf.

  “Did you air pop this?”

  He nodded. “Yup. I didn’t put butter on it yet, because I wasn’t sure what you put on yours.”

  “Great. Now, shall we take this popcorn to the next level?”

  “What do you have in mind?” Chuck crossed his arms, one eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

  “You’ll see.”

  Viv and Lillian had transferred groceries from the small studio fridge to the large stainless steel one before dinner arrived. The top drawer held one last stick of butter and half a wedge of parmesan cheese. Perfect. She cut the butter and plunked half of it in a skillet and carefully turned on the gas burner. “I can’t believe I have a gas stove,” she murmured.

  Chuck leaned against the arch over the kitchen entrance, hands shoved in his front pockets, and watched Lillian locate a cheese grater. Barely aware of her audience, she grated the cheese into a small pile on the countertop and repeatedly shook the skillet, swirling the melted butter.

  “Hey, you’re going to burn that,” Chuck cautioned. Lillian pulled a spatula from the large utensil crock next to the stove and winked at him.

  “It’s called brown butter,” she answered, as if that explained everything.

  “How is burnt butter going to take the popcorn to the next level?”

  “Not ‘burnt butter’, brown butter. Trust me,” she implored, concentrating on the skillet. Chuck stepped close to peer over her shoulder. When the butter gave off a nutty smell, and its straw-colored hue changed to a golden caramel, Lillian turned off the burner and immediately poured it all over the popcorn. Next
, she sprinkled the parmesan shavings over the top, and presented the bowl to Chuck with a flourish.

  “Ta-da!”

  Chuck eyed the bowl dubiously.

  “Just try it,” Lillian urged.

  He balanced the bowl in one hand and walked back into the living room to sit on the couch. He tested one handful, then another, and another. Lillian’s cheeks tingled from smiling.

  “Good?”

  “MmmHmm.”

  “Good.” She grabbed a bowl from the cabinet and joined him on the couch, sure to leave one cushion between them. “Fill her up, please.”

  Chuck gawked at the empty bowl she stretched toward him and wrapped a possessive arm around the popcorn. “Um, I thought you were dairy-free? What are you doing with butter and cheese in your fridge anyway?”

  “Oh, that. Nope. Not even a little bit. Sure, I like to cook healthy sometimes, but mostly I like the good stuff. I mean, just today I scarfed down a cheeseburger, milkshake, and that lasagna—remember?” She scooped a helping of popcorn into her own bowl.

  Chuck’s mouth hung open. “So, all of that food you stored in my freezer?”

  “Oh, yeah. Full of cream, butter, cheese…” She munched a handful of the rich, salty treat. “How else was I going to make sure you didn’t eat it all?” She lifted one shoulder coyly and grinned at him.

  Chuck just stared at her.

  Butter glistened on his lower lip, and, finding the effect far too attractive, Lillian turned away to locate the remote.

  She spotted it on the coffee table and grabbed it. “What shall we watch, sir?”

  The minute Netflix kicked on, she saw the error in her suggestion. Front and center in her “resume watching” list was the show Chuck, followed by a long line of cheesy romantic films. Sure, there was no way he’d know that since she’d met him, she’d been watching Chuck faithfully every night, dreaming that the character was this Chuck, and she was his love interest, Sarah. Her cheeks burned. She lifted the remote and tried to roll past the show bearing his name as quickly as she could, but in true romantic comedy cruelty, Netflix froze and wouldn’t budge.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck’s head ducked down, picking through the popcorn bowl. Please don’t look up, please don’t look up, please don’t look up…