Chapter 19 | Cecilia

Chapter 19

Cecilia

“ S top fidgeting.” Evie cups my cheek, and her deep-brown eyes meet mine. “I’ve never known you to be nervous.”

That’s because I’ve never introduced you to my family. “I’m not nervous. Liz is late.”

Evie rolls her eyes, clearly seeing through my pathetic excuse for a lie. “By five minutes.”

The door to the restaurant opens, and then Liz is there, an excited smile on her face. She’s come straight from work. “Sorry, sorry,” she says. “Route 1 traffic was a bitch. It took me like fifteen minutes to drive two miles.”

“It’s fine,” I say and slip my hand into Evie’s. My heart is in my throat. I don’t do this, and yet now that it’s happening, it feels inevitable and right. Keeping separate lives is a burden that I didn’t understand until this moment. “Liz, this is my girlfriend, Evie. Evie, this is my sister.”

“It’s about time,” Evie says, nudging me with her shoulder. At the same time, Liz laughs and exclaims, “Finally.”

Right. They’re going to get along great.

Two hours later, our dinner has long since been cleared, the wine’s run out, and we still chat easily. Evie leans forward, taking in everything my sister says, her hand never leaving mine. Liz sits back in her chair, more relaxed than I’ve seen her since I’ve been here. For my part, I have no idea what they’re talking about. But I love this moment. It’s unexpected and everything I thought I never wanted, and yet it’s been more than perfect. I’m not sure why I’ve been avoiding this.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Evie’s voice pulls me back to the conversation. “Cecilia used to do what?”

Uh-oh . There are any number of stories that my sister could be sharing about our childhood. The glee behind Liz’s smile is disconcerting and gives it away. I want to throttle my sister. This inside look into my life is something I haven’t given anyone since my college boyfriend. But letting Evie all the way in has opened a long-sealed door. Every day its rusty hinges loosen further. Maybe this time, with this woman, things can be different. Maybe I can be different.

“Play wedding,” Liz says through a giggle. “She did it often enough that our parents got her a fancy white dress. She would decorate the living room, put on classical music, and make our next-door neighbor marry her. I, of course, was maid of honor, which really meant I had to do whatever she said. She is quite the bridezilla.”

I glance at Liz, taking her measure. She’s not drunk. We only shared a bottle of wine between the three of us, and that was with more food than was healthy. She’s happy.

Evie’s eyes are bugging out of her head when I turn to her. And true, this doesn’t fit with the woman she’s known for the last year. “And this went on for how long?”

“Oh, maybe a year?”

“And what happened to your husband?”

I blink. It’s been ages since I thought about Dan. Dan, who had been my first kiss, my first love, my first everything. “We eventually dated for real. His family moved to Chicago about halfway through junior year, and that was that.”

It most certainly wasn’t that simple, but time and distance and maturity have given me a different spin on the situation.

“You never saw him again?”

I shrug. “We kept in touch at first. You know, the whole ‘It’s only a year and a half, and then we can go to college together.’ He visited once for junior formal, but even then, we knew whatever it had been had passed.”

That’s true but also a lie. We broke up when he moved, and I hated him for it. But we’d been friends for so long, we tried to stay that way, but when he came for the dance, he’d already been dating and I’d already figured out that maybe I liked girls as well as boys. I wasn’t willing to compete with girls halfway around the country, and he wasn’t willing to compete with girls at all.

“The divorce was quite amicable,” I say. We’re even friends on Facebook. Not that I’ll ever let that slip in front of Evie or Liz.

Evie laughs but then clears her throat. “Sorry to break up the party,” she says, “but my car is here.”

I glance at my watch. The night went too fast. I’m not ready for Evie to head to Philly and get on a plane to Chicago. Not without me with her.

We gather our things and walk outside. Liz pulls Evie into a big hug, and Evie promises to visit again soon. It’s heartwarming but also ridiculous. My sister is such a meddler.

Liz gives me a pointed look and then heads off toward the car to give Evie and me some privacy for our goodbye. Once my sister climbs into her car, I pull Evie into me. Our lips meet, and it feels like coming home. After a week in our hotel room, night after night cuddled together, nothing of our normal lives to interfere, I’m not ready to sleep on my own. I’ve been feeling like this all day. As if this goodbye might break me, even though we go days without each other back home. I spent the hour Evie went down to the fitness center to examine these feelings. I never examine feelings. I’ve never even wanted to. But I did. And the truth was plain. I don’t want to go back to a relationship defined by distance. I also don’t want to lose myself in Evie. Balance and patience are going to be key. I can’t change overnight. I’m still the same woman with the same hang-ups, and eventually something will pull me away. But, by acknowledging these realities, maybe I can mitigate the fallout.

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” I say.

She kisses me lightly. “I know. I wish I could stay longer, but I can’t miss another week. My clients need me, and I have to prep for a placement trial.”

“You’re so good .”

She meets my gaze with a quizzical look. I don’t blame her. I’m not usually effusive with my praise. “You okay, Cee?”

I nod and pull the key I had freshly minted this afternoon out of my pocket. I press it into her palm. “I hope you’ll use this when I get back.”

Evie wraps her fingers around the key without looking down at it. Her eyes are watery with tears. “Thank you. This means... a lot to me.”

I smile and don’t flinch away from the emotions playing across her expression. We both understand the enormity of my actions and the gesture I’m making with this gift. “I’m sorry it took me this long.”