Chapter 39

thirty-nine

Lily

Once I watch his jean-clad ass retreat down their front path I can't hold back. "Pretty convenient that River was waiting for me." My eyebrow tilts as Delia shuffles away.

Nessa smiles and shrugs. "Stef's waiting for us. Let's go."

Following them into the kitchen, we gather around the familiar table Delia's gran had here growing up. The square wood, the wicker woven backs and metal frames, everything about this moment could be a step into the past. The old ivy print border still frames the kitchen, peeling in a few places. The dark wood cabinets and faded white appliances are clean and well cared for but their age shows.

"The king has returned," Nessa says in a deep voice.

Stef turns on "The Circle of Life" from her phone and I raise Pete in the air like the movie causing an outpouring of giggles.

"Yeah, yeah, getting out of the mountains was a little harder than expected, but I'm here." I try for nonchalance.

"What did you do, use a covered wagon that Pete pulled? It took you nearly a full month to go from Denver to eastern Kansas. That's barely an eight hour drive," Delia glares.

I fidget and stare at my straw.

"I've been back for days, what the hell? You were supposed to help with coverage. River's drowning because I took the class and you didn't bother to be back in March like you promised. "

"I know," I explode. The anger, the fear, the resentment, and the overwhelm of it all bubbles over. "And if you hate me, if he hates me, it's earned. I tried, I swear. I left on time, I made it to Kansas and then I just was too scared. Okay? I have been afraid for years now."

Arms folded over my chest, I hug myself knowing that the rejection I'll get for this behavior is my own doing. I created this problem, I keep avoiding things, and trying to disappear. Mirroring my position, arms cross over chests around the table. I shrink further into myself, my knees raising and my arms pulling them in to hug myself.

"I've been trying to be a good friend and protect myself. I'm really fucking scared. I should have told you all this sooner, but, after September I was having a really hard time. Like, as bad as when I first left." My voice cracks.

Softest of us, Stef asks the question on everyone's mind, "Why didn't you tell us? You've seen us since then."

"Because I'm supposed to be independent, because I don't need a husband or parents or anyone. I've got this. I can do it on my own! Except, I can't, so I started with a new therapist."

"Good," Nessa interjects, staring hard into my face.

"We realized, um, we realized I have ADHD. So, sometimes it's hard for me to get started. Sometimes, it's hard to stop the feelings from being big—like when I just yelled—except then I feel foolish, and now I'm going to be afraid that will be all everyone remembers, my stupid outburst. Then I'll shame spiral, and this all sounds like excuses."

Nessa's tone shifts to professional. "It sounds like you've figured out that you have emotional regulation skills to work on, and maybe some rejection sensitivity?" Her posture softens to match Stef.

Delia holds firm. "Yep, sounds like an excuse."

Nessa interjects for me, "Not an excuse, it's a really important explanation for a bunch of things we've seen for years. As soon as school ended, the lack of structure put Lily all over the place." She gazes over at me.

"Take this with love, okay? I'm on your side, I swear. But, you were the all-star student, and then you sort of tripped your way through the last section of life. You set your own schedule and we know some things looked better from the outside than they were along the way but we never called you on it. We know that what happened with your folks was hard—dare I say traumatic—and we never gave up on you. You are our sister." Leave it to the girl with three siblings to get loving someone messy.

Stef reaches over and holds my hand with silent support. I'm nodding into my knees still unable to undo the tight ball I've wound myself into.

"That doesn't change that you ditched River. I know he spent the last month extra stressed because he thought he would have help, and I know you care about that. About him ," she pushes.

"I really do. It's what scares me the most," I whisper. Six eyes stare at me, waiting. A thick and heavy silence weighs on the room.

"Because of Grant. Do you remember Carlie, my ex-girlfriend? She didn't want me seriously either. We played pretend. Acted like a couple until she left me for someone serious. After her, I stopped trying. I've had flings, and every one of them ends with them finding the person they want to be with forever right after me. That person is not me. It's like, it's like I help them realize what they want: someone like me but not actually me . It's because of…" Unwinding my hand from Stef's and dropping my legs, I wave a hand around my tear-streaked face and crumpled outfit.

"Sweetheart, I think you have to be honest with yourself," Stef says.

"Admit you want something to last is what the nice one means," Delia adds brashly.

Shrugging I reply, "You don't always get what you want."

Thankfully, instead of arguing, they simply hug me and we move on to other topics.

I stand in the cottage behind The Featherweight, staring at a wall covered in sample color swatches. I examine them up close, then step back. I close the blinds. Then reopen them. Turning to Gemma and Alice, I throw my hands up in surrender. Aren't they the decorators?

"Why am I in charge of this?" I'm trying hard not to whine. Seriously, this is only my home for a few weeks. What do my feelings on paint shades matter?

Seth's sister-in-law, Alice, loves peasant dresses and flower crowns, and they give her an eternally airy presence. She practically floats through life, making me feel stiff next to her. Exposing my bohemian facade for a poor man's copy.

As she twirls between the blues and grays, she looks lovingly at her wife saying, "Gem, I would pick one of these icy steel colors to match your eyes if I was designing a love nest for us. This one right here," she taps a swatch on the wall. "Or maybe…" she continues to compliment her wife's many wonderful attributes as they relate to each color. This is not helping me choose, and now I'm thinking about her use of ‘love nest '. Isn't this going to be a rental property?

Alice quickly kisses her wife before she heads out, graciously taking Pete for a walk by the water. Gemma was around to babysit when we were kids, and since I'm exhausted from the conversation before, I'm unable to stop myself from letting out a whine.

"Gemma, I trust you, whatever you do will be great. Do whatever will let River rent this out after Memorial Day. Taupe? Greige? What's the it neutral right now? It's not like this is my home and I can have a giant blue wall covered in natural wood shelves and colorful pots of winding vines and plants. Do something for River, not for me."

Gemma presses, "Okay, tell me about this blue. Maybe it isn't for you, but I'm bored by neutral rentals and River said to make this a home . He said you owed him, and he wanted your vision. So, tell me about this blue and what else you like?"

"Something like midnight, darker than cerulean but not quite navy. A color that reminds you of English royal sapphires."

Glancing around, I add in, "Also, those light fixtures are basically just boobs with nipples. If you don't want to have a boring, everyday rental, you need to change that. With the bright white tile and a midnight blue wall, I would want to bring in some dark gold or copper metals and warmth. Maybe paint the kitchen cabinets a pine or sage color?"

I am lightly dusting my fingers along the small island that cuts the open floorplan into a kitchen area and a living space, examining the pattern in the slab of counter.

"Probably something that brings out the browns in the floor planks, River has a tendency to wear black, gray, denim—he's really classic and simple. So if he was ever going to move in, it should fit that too.

"Like how he used the exposed pipes for a bit of an industrial feel in the bar, those pipe curtain rods but in the same metal as the kitchen to pull it together. I don't think there are masculine curtains, are there? Hmm…" I continue to circle the space, stopping near the stone fireplace and examining the wall.

"Here. This is the opposite of the living wall, this is where I would fake some built-ins using bookcases and paint them to match the kitchen. Ooh, and what about a reclaimed barnwood beam for the mantle. Perhaps some wallpaper with a metallic pattern in it too to pull the kitchen and living spaces together well since it's all open here."

Dreaming this up is a lot more fun than payback suggested. Though, I might be stuck painting and applying these things I suggest, but I keep dreaming big.

"I would want to have lots of candles. All different sizes of pillars. I know this is taboo for this town, but maybe even in a non-jewel tone. Throw a bunch of neons and brights just to throw everyone off. Add a piece of funky artwork above it. A really plush rug, a basket full of cozy throw blankets and extra pillows."

As I wander up the steps, I point out the boob light fixture in the entryway, "Seriously, the tits."

Gemma laughs and says, "Got it, not a fan of tits. It's a shame, they have only the nicest things to say about you."

Brightening, I tell her, "I just don't like them on the ceiling. They're fine, better than fine…" I pause to think but end up awkwardly saying, "Other places. You know, like on a woman." Can the floor please open and swallow me up now?

Except, all that happens is Gemma laughs with me and agrees. This is nice, I can relax as I realize maybe you don't have to hide your bisexuality from the lesbian whose wife was just here, she doesn't have any expectations of you. Plus, remember not everyone in town has been focused on you. Maybe being back can be like this, like my time with River. I try to push my worries away and just lean in, play along and act as though this is my house.

Approaching the bedrooms, I can see one door on the left and two to the right. I open the first one along the wall with two and see a bedroom overlooking the backyard. Stepping inside I notice a connecting door, and peeking in, it's a jack-and-jill bathroom between rooms. These must be the bedrooms that River and his brothers shared initially.

I step through and it is like stepping back in time. The tiles are pastel pink, straight out of the 1950s suburban expansion. Fortunately, the tile appears to my untrained eye well preserved and really retro cool.

"Gem." I can hear my excitement growing. "You kept these tiles when you redid things over in the bar kitchen, were you thinking of leaning into the Danish/Scandinavian pastel retro revival? Or making it more masculine with dark wall paper? Or, is this a guest bath so it's not going to get redone? Because honestly, it could be cool to preserve the history a little here."

"I could basically use this to make the upstairs all in the Danish pastel, maximalist, high femme vibes to contrast the lower level's deep masculinity. Unless that would be too disconnected for you?" Gem offers, but when she says for you something switches in me.

Sinking down on the floor against a wall, my head falls into my hands. The fun is over, the overthinking has kicked into high gear, and now the spirals have my brain going so wild that I blurt out a stream of emotional word-vomit to her.

"Gem, I don't know what I'm doing and I don't want to plan whatever will be River's home with someone else eventually, okay? I'm the one people date before they settle down. Grant and Landan," and I swear I hear her whisper bitch under her breath but I'm not sure because I'm still going, "then there was Carlie during the eighteen months when I did, yes, work on a pot farm in California. Her wife is stunning, and way more put together than me. They have three cats and two dogs and hike the Redwoods regularly, and their life was so adorable I had to block her because it hurt too much. When River came to Denver, he said it was a one week thing. Didn't he? I'm pretty sure. Pretending this could be mine, with him, that's…" I rub my heart as it breaks into a million little fragments. Picturing that makes my chest tighten and ache.

"I know I'm borrowing this for a few weeks to help Stef with the wedding. I fully expect him to be nice enough while I'm around. But, it'll end. Then what? Then I have an extra ghost who scares me away from home? That doesn't seem like a good idea. I was impulsive as fuck before. Still am. I recently learned I have ADHD, and now those impulse control things are starting to make sense. I can't control them all the time. I mean, my new medication has helped a little and in therapy we go over different strategies. But seriously, I'm not the girl?—"

"Woman," Gem interjects.

"Right, I'm not the woman someone picks for the long haul. I'm the one you mess around with and I get you so comfortable with the idea of a partner, that you go find a real one. It's not me, but that's fine. I'm fine. At least I saved someone else the heartache of being abandoned by someone who didn't know if they could love, right?"

I was so busy with my self-pity, head in my hands, eyes cast on the penny tile floor consumed by shame, that I didn't see two men enter the room beside me.

"I think you need to speak to her," she says to one before telling a second person, "you. Let's go." I watch as Gem's shoes pass, her hand gently on my shoulder with a whispered goodbye.

Two strong arms wrap around me from behind on the bathroom floor. The warm familiar masculine forest scent wafting around me makes it obvious Seth and River had arrived. My head sinks onto his chest without conscious permission.

He kisses my temple, as the bedroom door clicks shut and I hear Gemma tell Seth to stop trying to listen before there are quick footsteps down the stairs. Once it's quiet again, he exhales my name reverently, like the strength he needs to make this statement is as scary for him as my confession was.

"Darling," he continues to sway, hugging me closer and repeating my name as I silently cry. He lets out a long breath and turns my chin to the side so I can meet his eyes. Despite any initial hesitation, I comply and meet his eyes which are a little watery too. Ever so softly, he holds my gaze so we're still in the moment together. He places the most gentle kiss on my forehead between my tired eyes. Under the light sensation across my brow, I feel waves of relaxation, my brow unfurling more. I didn't even realize how touch starved I was. Again.

"How do you not see yourself through my eyes yet?" The fire and sincerity behind his statement catches me off guard.

The earnest question raises alarm bells, despite knowing this man, and out of fear I bite back, "Are you just trying to have yourself some fun for a few weeks since I'll be around? Is this all another temporary set up? I'm not the one you'll keep. I'm loved best when I'm less present. You'll see."

The fear, disappointment, and anguish create a tornado of pain. "You already saw. It's why things got quiet after February, right? It's why we barely spoke all last month. Why aren't you more mad that I wasn't here? Watch the relief everyone feels at the end of my two months..." I'm no longer making sense, shut up shut up shut up .

I collapse further into his chest, feeling the soft fabric of the well worn bar logo T-shirt he's always wearing against my exposed arms in my tank top. His hands drift up and down trying to calm me, rubbing smooth circles across my back. My legs drape one of his as I sit between his legs creating a T-shape.

The affection in his voice increases. "Gem was having you pick these finishing touches because I've been hoping you'd be comfortable staying. I wanted to have this feel like a home. Your home . I wanted to make you feel protected and at ease. For everything to be exactly what you love. Because that apartment I saw was… not what you show the world. I never wanted to embarrass you. I want to give you what you deserve."

His right hand winds its way into my hair, softly stroking behind my neck, unfurling the tension headache.

"Also," he shifts to a firmer tone, "do not disappear on me . I do not care that you cried now. You are human, you are allowed to feel things, good things and bad things. You don't have to hide the bad things from me." He looks at me, hard eyes heating, the teal color turning to jade as they darken.

"Listen to my words, look at me, this is what I want. Move in here, and let me be here with you as much as you want. Your terms , but give me a real chance. Let me show you how easy you are to fall in love with. I'll be sure to thank those other idiots for making it possible for me to try to keep you. I am fighting for you to be mine until you tell me to stop for good. I was lucky enough to have a small taste. It wasn't enough for me." He presses another kiss to my face, this time on my cheek.

"I want to give this a real shot, and I will continue to do things like have awkward espresso meetings with the Salvatore women until I get these stupid conversations about a decade ago dropped." I give an audible gasp, and he nods causing me to feel his nose bobbing near the side of my head.

"I didn't stop talking as much because I didn't want you anymore. Delia didn't get back until recently, you didn't come out to help as early as I hoped, and I'm not mad because I know this is hard for you. But, between renovations, existing bookings, and trying to make this place into something, I was barely hanging on."

Holding my gaze he vows, "I promise you, this is not temporary for me, darling. I'm sorry, I should have been direct. I just… I wanted to show you, not just tell you. So I worked harder, longer hours. Gemma and Alice have been prepping this place for ages. I came home and fast tracked everything, and obviously had to make some decisions on my own, can I show you?"

I nod, and he places another gentle kiss on my cheek before scooping me up into his arms. Placing my feet on the tile, he takes my hand and leads me out of the bedroom and across the hall to the owner's suite. Opening the bedroom door, I am awed.

The board and batten walls have been painted a soft cream, with a king sized antique brass bed laid over a delicate floral rug. There are painted ornate antique frames that had clearly been thrifted and revived in shades of sage, lavender, rose, and sky blue. Some hold art prints, but the two that are glinting in gold paint catch my eye. On one night stand, the gold frame holds a photo of us as middle schoolers, and memories of that dance our moms forced him to take me to come back to me. The tiny bouquet of spray roses in peach and cream, my nose in the bouquet and his eyes on me.

"I don't think I've seen this photo before," I say barely above a whisper as I graze the frame's carvings .

"Elizabeth," he answers succinctly, and we both understand the meaning there.

"She kept this all these years. Gave it to me after Denver, like she knew all along."

Circling the bed, I pick up the other frame, we have two glasses of beer perched in a cheers, soft snowfall in the background out the window. Beyond that, a light outline of the Rockies. This was the trip he just took, of course. Our smiles are playful and easy.

"This one," he says, stepping up behind me and wrapping his arms around me to tap the frame, "this is one of my favorites from the trip because you are so relaxed. You sparkled when you took me around Denver, and I know that I can't promise to make home like vacation, but I do promise to make space for travel. It wasn't because you were pretending to be someone else, it's because you finally let go and were just yourself. Something I only could do because you gave me space to be me too. I can't lose that, I just can't."

Turning me in his arms to face him, there is a heat coming off his body warming me. His gaze is like fire on my skin, everything is burning. I feel my stomach exploding with butterflies in anticipation. An innocent sweetness, like a girl on the way to her first dance with a boy in the photo.

He leans in close, like he did that day in the Denver studio, but instead of ruefully heated, this is soft and full of heart.

"Lily, I think… I know. I've always loved you. More importantly, you weren't the problem in those relationships. The problem was they weren't me."

Holy shit, did River just say he loves me? I just was near tears over the idea of him loving someone else, is that what loving him means? I'm not ready for this, I can't leave but my feet start to try and he follows.

For each step I try to take, he steps forward dancing with me. We end with my legs backed against the side of the mattress, with nowhere to go he proceeds to nuzzle against me. His nose draws its way across my cheek, before he kisses me. It's as sweet as his words. His lips press to mine, his tongue lightly sweeps into my mouth dancing against my own.

The kiss breaks before he lays me down across the middle of the mattress between decorations. The bed was made: covered in the softest shade of rose pink sheets and a white blanket. Pillows pile high against the rails of the headboard. The foot of the bed has knit throw blankets in sage and mauves draped on a picture perfect angle.

"They are damn fools, I will never treat you as disposable. I'm yours. I don't think I was ever anyone else's. You don't need to say anything, yet. Right now…" Instead of continuing, he leans down and kisses me again. A kiss that seals his promise. A promise I can accept and melt into.