She held up a cigarette butt between two fingers, skeptical, that eyebrow rising higher.
“Well, okay, there are some not-so-great things. Keep looking.”
The corners of her lips lifted, tempting Chuck to plant a tender kiss where the edge of her smile curled into her cheek. Instead, he stood still, hands tightening on the box. Patience, Chuck. Just keep wooing her. Show her you’re trustworthy.
She lifted a wine cork, admiring the pretty vine and leaf pattern on the top, then a Jamaican coin, a dried flower. A large blue and silver coin with an inscription caught her eye. She lifted it from the box and ran a finger over the foreign lettering. “What is this?” she breathed, mesmerized.
“I don’t know. That’s the wonderful mystery of it all,” Chuck whispered.
She turned the coin over into her palm and traced another engraving, a dove, with her finger. She closed her hand around it. “What did you guys leave, Chuck?”
“Uh, nothing. We heard this crazy banshee shriek up on that roof over there and hightailed it over to be sure no one was being murdered in your garden,” he mocked, a finger pointed toward the roof.
Lillian glanced up again, and could see that Tiffany and Felix now leaned against the wall, their shoulders touching, their backs to the parking garage roof.
“Hmm, looks like that talk took an interesting turn,” she observed.
Chuck settled an arm around her shoulders. “It sure did.”
Lilly turned to him with an arched brow. The summer air thickened, growing still. Just like before. Her eyes dropped to his lips. Chuck’s stomach flopped over. The box creaked as he tucked it under his arm. Lillian leaned in—
Chuck’s stomach growled suddenly. And loudly. Lillian’s eyes rounded, sweeping from his stomach to his face. So much for that moment. His eyes narrowed when she began to giggle nervously. “Hey lady, it’s way past midnight. I should be asleep. Lay off my old man weaknesses.”
“Well, then leave whatever it is you were going to contribute earlier, and let’s go get breakfast somewhere,” she suggested.
“Breakfast?” he was dubious.
“Yeah, breakfast. You know—French toast, pancakes, bacon? At one of those all-night pancake houses. You game?”
The hopeful hesitancy in her eyes pulled at his stomach. “With Felix and Tiff, of course,” she added quickly.
“Are you kidding? You said the magic word—bacon. You bet I’m game,” he said, lightly shaking the box. “We can go just as soon as you log your first geocache with a sign-in.”
She laughed, “You got it. I’ll even leave a trinket.” Lillian rummaged in her back pocket and produced a set of keys. She carefully worked one off and dropped it in the box. “I’m probably not going to drive the Focus anymore,” she commented dryly, taking the little notebook from Chuck and signing her name with the pencil stub tied onto the spine.
He pulled his phone from the back pocket of his jeans and snapped a picture of her signing. Then of her adorably rolling her eyes at him. Finally, she smiled, and he took five pictures in a row.
“Beautiful.”
Lillian hugged herself and looked down at their feet.
Chuck signed his name as well and closed the box. Lillian was looking back at the roof across the way when he turned from sliding the box back into place.
“What do you think they’re talking about up there?” she wondered aloud.
“Hey! What are you guys talking about up there?” Chuck bellowed, his hands cupped around his mouth. Lillian jumped. Chuck laughed.
Tiffany jumped as well, before both she and Felix each turned around to look down at them. Tiffany laughed, her gaze locked with Felix’s for a moment.
“Whoa, you can almost feel the chemistry between them from down here,” Lillian murmured.
Chuck leaned close to talk low in her ear. “Hmm…I didn’t notice, what with all the chemistry right here.” He took pride in the way her fingers came up to fidget with her earlobe. At the bloom in her cheeks.
“What’s it to ya?” Felix called down.
Chuck straightened and hooked a thumb at Lillian, “Actually, she’s the nosy one, she was just too afraid to ask.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “Or too polite,” she retorted.
“Whatever you say,” Chuck mocked and flipped his hat on backward.
“What Chuck meant to ask, is if you guys want to go with us to get something to eat?”
Chuck and Lillian watched as the couple spoke for a moment longer before Felix turned back to them and gave two thumbs up.
Chapter Thirty
Lillian and Tiffany, Felix and Chuck, walked through the parking garage to Tiffany’s Ford Explorer. Felix claimed the front seat before Lillian could. Chuck held open the back door for her, gracing her with an exaggerated wink as she climbed in. Tiffany started the engine and pulled out of the lot, the clock on the dash glowing1:16 in muted green.
“Where to?” she asked when she reached the end of the garage ramp.
“I think IHOP or Shari’s are the only places open,” Lillian answered when Tiffany and Felix just shrugged. The glow from the streetlight illuminated their intriguingly pensive faces. Tiffany nodded and pulled onto the street. “I choose Shari’s; they have pie.”
Chuck sat close enough that Lillian could feel his warmth radiating through her t-shirt, but not close enough to touch. And why, she had to ask herself, was that so disappointing? She glanced at his profile, watching the headlights from a passing car dance across his face, emphasizing the fit of his backward facing cap. When he caught her looking, Lillian raked her eyes away, licking her lips. Gracious. I have got to get a handle on my emotions. Easier said than done when the man repeatedly whispered in her ear and called her beautiful.
They rode in silence until Tiffany drove past the Egyptian theater on the corner. Felix turned to look at Chuck, a bemused smile on his face. “Remember when we all came down here that one Christmas to witness?”
Tiffany nodded. “Yeah. The theater was playing It’s a Wonderful Life, and we stopped people coming out to tell them how to ‘truly have a wonderful life.’”
Chuck shot Lillian a look. “We were in high school and most of those people just smiled at us like we were nuts.”
“We were obnoxious.”
“Jesus freaks!” Tiffany hooted.
“Whose idea was that?” Felix asked as Tiffany turned into the lot at Shari’s and parked near the door.
“Grace’s,” Tiffany and Chuck answered in unison before shutting their doors.
“Oh, that’s right.” Felix nodded, jogging ahead to hold the door to the restaurant open for Lillian and Tiffany. “That sounds like a Grace idea.”
Chuck grabbed the top of the door to let Felix follow the women in before him.
A young man approached them wearing wire rimmed glasses and a maroon polo shirt with “Shari’s” embroidered on the front pocket. His crooked nametag read, “Mike.”
“Take your pick,” he said, waving toward the empty restaurant with a tired, but friendly, smile.
The foursome chose a table near the waiter station, in a corner booth at the rear of the building. Again, Tiffany sat with Felix, Chuck with Lillian. Lillian tried to ignore the way he pressed his thigh against hers as if it belonged there. Tried even harder to convince herself that it didn’t.
After they ordered milkshakes and fries to share, Lillian sat quietly while the other three shared stories and memories of their teen years.
Lillian laughed along, imagining the stories, but still just an observer to their memories. Not a participant. Not like Grace. Her heart shrank back a little. Lord, how can I be envious of someone I don’t even know?
“So, you ladies going to Grace’s lady conference next weekend?” Chuck asked, his eyes dancing between Lillian and Tiffany.
“Lady conference?” Tiffany curled her lip at him and leaned back.
Felix jumped in. “Right. Like where you all get together and talk about lady stu
ff.”
Tiffany rolled her eyes and dragged a fry through a mound of ketchup. “You’re just jealous ‘cause you’re not invited,” she said, taking a bite.
Felix and Chuck faced each other across the table and began to dramatically bat their eyelashes in unison. Felix fanned his face and spoke in a high voice, “I do declare that the good Lord has taught me so much this weekend, girlfriend.”
Chuck matched Felix’s feminine flair. “Oh, yes, girl—all you need is a little bit of chocolate and a whole lot of Jesus.”
Lillian and Tiffany turned to each other, brows furrowed. Lillian bobbed her head toward Chuck. “Apparently these kind of conferences turn us into ditzy Southern Belles?”
“I guess so,” Tiffany muttered, watching the men fawn over each other until they cracked themselves up.
“Wow, you guys are embarrassing yourselves,” Tiffany said.
“Let’s give them the benefit of the doubt and blame it on the late hour.” Lillian laughed.
The front doors opened and a loud group piled in. From their dress and unnatural laughter, Lillian guessed that they’d stumbled over from the nearest bar. She swallowed hard, remembering nights that she’d tagged along with Drew and his friends after a night of ushering everyone around. Alcohol was something she had never been able to stomach, and as such, she was always the designated driver. How different her stories were from those that sat around the small table with her.
“But that does remind me,” Tiffany said, pulling Lillian’s attention back to her. “Grace texted me earlier and asked if I could find a place for her to stay. Her parents have missionaries visiting from Thailand, and their house is completely full. The church suggested a couple of places, but they are either sweet older couples that go to bed at eight o’clock or families with young kids. She was hoping to stay with someone her age that lives near the church.”
Lillian wasn’t sure what that had to do with her. Realization dawned. “Oh, do you think you need management permission to have a guest in your apartment? Because that’s your call. I’m not your dorm mother or anything,” she laughed.
Mike the Waiter approached the large group and gathered menus before turning to lead them into the restaurant.
Tiffany grimaced. “Actually, I was hoping—well, you know I just have a studio—I get up so early and I—”
Chuck leaned closer to Lillian, “I think what Tiff is so eloquently trying to ask is if Grace can stay with you.”
“Oh, um,” Lillian’s mind fizzed out and sparked again. They wanted Grace, the perfect-for-Chuck writer that taught godly virtues to teenagers, to stay at her house? “I can’t think of a reason why not.”
Wait—nope. Not a single reason. Rats.
“I mean, you can think about it if you want,” Tiffany hedged, sensing Lillian’s hesitation.
An eruption of sloshy laughter exploded from the group of strangers, ringing in her ears. Mike the Waiter led them closer, the stale odor of cigarette smoke and liquor seemed to plume behind the patrons he led past. Lillian felt Chuck’s eyes on her and grew warm. “Um, yeah, of course she can stay with—”
“Lee?”
Lillian went still at the familiar voice. The one that had once spoken tenderly to her and, also, not so tenderly. A flash flood of ice rushed through her veins at the nickname he used for her. She shook at the slight slur of his tone, knowing he could say just about anything when he was drunk, and this time Chuck—and the rest of them—would hear it all.
She licked her lips and glanced up as the last of the large group squeezed past Drew who stood at the head of their table.
Well, I definitely won’t need to wait for Grace to come into town for Chuck to see how wrong I am for him; it should be pretty clear in 5…4…3…2—
“I thought that was my girl,” Drew said. “I was just telling the guys about that weekend we went to Seattle. Remember? We had a wild time, didn’t we?” He winked raucously.
Her stomach soured. And she cringed. Yup. There it was. Thanks, Drunk Drew.
***
His girl? Chuck swallowed his water before he could choke on it and set the glass back on the table.
There was no mistaking the tension that pulled Lillian’s shoulders back. Chuck’s eyes flitted up to watch the color drain from her face, then crawl back to a roaring flush on her neck, her ears, her cheeks.
“Uh, hi, Drew. Um, yes, I do. As I recall that was a work thing,” her lips trembled. The arm she pressed into Chuck’s stiffened. Her eyes avoided the man, dressed in dark jeans, a lightweight grey sweater with a white collared shirt underneath, the collar folded over the neckline. His sandy brown hair was gelled and spiky. By the smell of things, the guy—Drew—had been out clubbing.
Drew. Chuck flashed back to the night a month ago when he’d knocked on Lillian’s door, held her while she emptied herself of tears. Chuck’s eyes traveled the length of him with new eyes.
Oh, come on. This guy?
“Well, sure, but work certainly wasn’t what kept us up all night, was it?” Drew laughed wickedly, leaning into the table, cupping her shoulder in his hand. Chuck shouldn’t have been so happy about the way that Lillian leaned away from Drew and closer to him. That didn’t stop him from enjoying it, though.
Lillian tucked her hair behind her ear, played with the wrapper of her straw. “So…how’s Hilary?” There was no mistaking the slight edge to her tone.
Drew made a noise deep in his throat. “You don’t understand—”
“Nothing I need to underst—”
“We weren’t together until after—”
“I don’t actually care.”
Drew looked stunned, apparently not used to having his charms—sloppy though they might be—ignored. Lillian stared at Tiffany. Tiffany’s eyes toggled from Drew to Lillian to Chuck. Felix took a sip of his soda and set it down, watching Drew with bored impatience, a muscle working in his jaw. Chuck cracked his knuckles. After a tense moment he leaned forward and stuck out his hand.
“Hey, man, I’m Chuck,” he said. “Lillian is my boss.”
Lillian elbowed his side—hard—and shot him a look. He met her horrified gaze. What?
Drew took the offered hand, his expression clouded. “Boss? You run that bakery, Lee?”
“Bakery?” Chuck’s jaw clenched tighter as Lillian ground her heel into his foot. He made a low grunt in his throat.
“Hey, Drew. Come on, dude,” a guy called out from the large corner table.
“Looks like they’re waiting for you,” Lillian said, looking up at Drew for the first time since he’d stopped at their table. Chuck would not have wanted to be on the receiving end of that stare. Drew held up his hands in surrender and slowly stepped away from the table.
Chapter Thirty-One
Chuck asked at least a dozen times over the next couple of days if Lillian was okay. And at least a dozen times she answered that she was fine.
Yes, she was fine after running into Drew.
Fine that his arrival only reminded her of how vastly different she was from Chuck and the rest.
Fine that since that night, even though she refused to answer, Drew had texted her twice and called once.
Fine that in the first text, he claimed Hilary had been a big mistake; that when he saw Lillian with another man, it made him realize how much he loved and missed her.
Fine that after that one moment of curiosity, she erased the other text before reading it.
Fine that each time she saw his number light up her screen, she felt further and further from ever being good enough for any man, especially one as solid and wonderful as Chuck.
Fine? Sure. She was fine.
Fine pretending she was fine. Fine while slowly dying inside. Totally, completely—please stop asking—fine.
By Wednesday, two days before Grace’s arrival, after a few filing mistakes, her insurance company finally sent the check for the totaled Ford, and she spent the morning narrowing down her car search. She knocked on Chuck’s do
or that afternoon, smiling triumphantly when he answered.
“Guess who finally got her check and found the sweetest car for sale in her price range?” she sing-songed.
Chuck leaned against his door jam, hands shoved in his front pockets. “Hmmm, let me guess…” his eyes twinkled...sort of. But there was a dull hue to his gaze that she’d never seen before.
Lillian bit her lip and clasped her hands together, less confident than when she’d knocked on his door. “And guess who needs a ride to look over said car?” The question came out airy and squeaky. She cleared her throat.
Chuck glanced down at his dirty jeans and rumpled shirt.
“You have time to change,” she rushed on. “I don’t have to meet the guy for another hour.”
“Okay…” His eyes were flat, his tone less than enthusiastic. “Thanks for giving me notice, Lillian.”
Lillian looked closer and saw the tired shadows on his face. “Never mind. Sorry. I can ask Tiffany to take me or just reschedule,” she assured him, feeling foolish for making assumptions.
He ran a hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, no, it’s fine. I just—here, let me shower, and I’ll be at your place in, say twenty minutes?”
Lillian, still uncertain, backed up. “Okay, only if you’re sure.”
“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll be right over.” He shut the door, and Lillian retreated to her apartment. She’d never seen Chuck cranky before. She knew everyone had their days, and she really did ask a lot of him. She was getting ready to text that he should forget it when he knocked on her door.
He wore his signature baseball cap, the ends of his hair still damp from the shower. A light blue t-shirt and baggy khaki shorts hugged him in all the right places. Lillian choked on her appreciation, and stepped into the hall.
“You sure this is okay, Chuck? I can do it another time or ask someone else—”
“No, it’s okay, Lilly. Really.”
She swallowed hard. His tone didn’t assure her that it was fine. Why didn’t I just ask Tiffany? Turning to Chuck had become second nature.
“I am going to need dinner or something on the way, though,” Chuck added before she could tell him they should just forget it.
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