Chapter Thirty-Six
Luke
“That’s it. We’re getting a new stove.”
I twist the knob on the range to turn off the heat. This fucking thing is inconsistent. I will rip this unit out of the wall—
“Luke, surrender the frying pan.”
Sophie hip-checks me. I lurch sideways and catch myself on the counter’s edge.
“What the hell?” I elbow her and lunge for the handle of my frying pan. “I’m making eggs.”
“Clearly. You haven’t stopped making eggs. This is the fourth time. Not to mention pancakes for dinner last night, sausages at midnight, and the random batch of muffins you attempted at, what, four a.m.?”
“You didn’t complain when you woke up to fresh muffins.”
She removes the frying pan from my hand and dumps the burned eggs into the sink. They sizzle against the wet porcelain basin. “You have to stop your manic cooking. And your manic cleaning. You’re driving everyone bonkers, and it hasn’t even been two days since you got here. Did you even sleep last night? Or Friday night?”
I do not dignify this with a response. Instead, I yell to my niece, coloring in the dining room. “Olive, do Uncle Luke’s eggs drive you bonkers?”
She pokes her blond head through the doorway. “I love eggs!”
My smug smile only provokes Sophie.
“Olive, go play. Your uncle is having a breakdown.”
As I lift the towel off the counter, she yanks it from my hand. “Eventually you’re going to have to tell me what happened with Cassidy.”
Her name is like a ripcord. The second I hear it, an ache unfurls in my chest. “I told you. We had a good few days together, and now it’s over.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not interested in her.” The lie barely lets itself out of my mouth. My insides curl up in shame.
The only thing I’m interested in is Cassidy. She haunts my waking thoughts. I’m so goddamn cold without her smile, her laugh, her touch. I thought saying goodbye to her at the hospital would make for a clean break and I’d be able to quickly forge ahead, surrounded by what’s important to me. I thought being with my family would soften the blow because I’d remember what’s at stake. Who I’ve been working so hard to care for.
What have all my sacrifices been for if I’m quick to leave it in the dust for a woman?
But I can’t move on. I can’t let go.
Yes, I’ve seen firsthand that my people need me. But what I didn’t account for was the way it wouldn’t replace the need I have for her.
Friday, I was a zombie. After more fruitless discussions with Mom, Sophie drove us back to the house. I worked for hours to avoid thinking about the look in Cassidy’s eyes when we exchanged our last words: as if I pulled the rug out from under us, but the rug was a magic carpet and we were a thousand feet in the air. She didn’t see this coming, which is entirely my fault because I let things go too far. I tricked us both into a false sense of security.
Later on Friday, I made a dinner quiche, because Cassidy once said she wanted to marry breakfast food. I wanted to fuck it, which was such an egregious oversight. Breakfast is the only meal that I could eat all day, every day, for the rest of my life.
“Not interested, my ass,” Sophie mutters, her pigtail braids making her terrifying expression softer somehow. “I’ve never seen you look at a girl the way you looked at her in that hospital. Like she was the only thing holding you together as you let her walk away. And that’s while you were fighting. I can’t even imagine how you look at each other normally.”
I shove down the misery this assessment provokes. “How supremely unhelpful, thank you so much.”
“What’s she like? You’ve told me nothing about her.”
“Please don’t do this, Soph. I made my decision. I’m not going to pursue a relationship with her.”
“Why not?”
I throw my arm up. “We’re a little fucking busy, wouldn’t you say? I’m in the middle of trying to move across the country.”
“You don’t live here, and you aren’t going to. You have generously gone above and beyond sending us money, and there aren’t enough words in the English language to tell you how much I appreciate it. And Mom, too, whether she admits it or not. And everything you’ve done for the house? Renovations so we could live here? I could choke on the guilt. And the gratefulness. So this ridiculous idea that you have to uproot your whole life simply because we all, what, exist? And Mom has health issues she’s too stubborn to face? That is absurd.”
“You expect me to just turn my back on this family when she’s never needed me more? When the girls are only getting older and therefore will also need more? When you’re doing everything by yourself, and the house still needs work. If I’m actually living here, maybe I can get more done, and Mom will be more inclined to take care of herself because we’ll both be hovering.”
“Gonna stop you there. The answer is yes, turn your back. Because I’ve been here, and it hasn’t made a damn bit of difference in Mom’s behavior. Obviously. We cannot make her change, Luke. Trust me, I’ve struggled to accept it, too.”
I wince. I hadn’t thought of it that way.
“But if you can’t have your own life,” she continues, “I won’t be able to live with myself. I’m tired of taking from you. I’m tired of seeing you punish yourself for the decisions someone else made. You are not Dad. You are not expected to carry this family on your back. It’s time to get a life, Luke.”
“Jesus, Sophie. Don’t spare my feelings.”
“Why start now? Now can you at least tell me about your road trip?” She cocks her head to the side and delivers her trademark wry smile. “Cassidy is extremely pretty. And seems sweet.”
My stomach roils at the mere thought of Cass. At how much I want to check in with her.
See how things went with her family. Hear her voice.
Unfortunately, this makes me even more irritated with my current conversation. “Why are we talking about this again? And why are you suddenly so invested in my love life? You couldn’t stand Genevieve.”
“Correct. I couldn’t stand Genevieve because she didn’t love you for you. She loved the idea of you. She didn’t care what you wanted or what was important to you. And she made you feel like you had to choose between your family and her, which is silly because we would’ve gladly welcomed her into our life. Or just as gladly given you space if that’s what you needed. We aren’t trying to hold you prisoner, Luke.”
“Oh, good. I was worried you weren’t done with the lecture,” I grumble.
“Not a lecture.” She steps closer, her sisterly stare-down infiltrating my soul. “Just pointing out that if you disappeared tomorrow, we’d still be okay.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”
She rolls the towel into a rattail. “It makes me feel better. Your kindness is smothering me. I’d much rather you go find Cassidy and bring her over. She’d probably love your burned eggs.”
“I swear to God, if you snap that thing at me—”
Snap.
“You’re dead.” I snatch the matching kitchen towel off the stove’s handle and run it under the faucet. Moisture makes the towel clingy and more powerful when it finally strikes. After thirty years of fighting with my sister, I’m a seasoned professional.
“You don’t play fair!” Soph cries. “You are not allowed to hit me with that. I am your sister. I brought life into this world. I’m—”
I snap her at the ankle where her sweats are so baggy I’m sure she won’t feel it through the fabric. Her hysterical cry peals through the kitchen.
“I hate you.” She abandons all style and rattail form and wields her towel like an ax. It lands on my head, a messy and ineffective blow.
“Not the hair!” I pat my head. “That’s the money maker.”
“Please. You look like teenage Zack Morris with that haircut.”
“I pay good money for this haircut.”
Sophie cackles. “I’m sure you do.”
“Truce!” I guard my face. “Truce. I don’t want to buy new glasses.”
“Fine.” She slows to a stop, flashing me her palm. “Truce accepted. So what are you going to do? About Cassidy?”
My spine stiffens. “I don’t know. Even if I wanted to”—I suck in an unsatisfying breath—“fix it or salvage it, I don’t know if that’s an option. And it’s all fine and good for you to tell me to get a life, but that doesn’t change my plans, per se. I was going to ask Rogelio to let me work remotely so I can move back to California. He’s vetoed it in the past, but that was because he wanted me in the office so I could learn more than just the job. He’s teaching me how to run a firm. All part of my five-year plan.”
“You want to live in Bakersfield?” she asks, nose turning up. “Bakersfield doesn’t even want to live in Bakersfield.”
“Untrue. This place is up and coming.”
“Sure thing, Zillow.”
“It’s got a Costco. It’ll be fine.”
“It’ll be fine. You sound like you’re being held at knifepoint. Costco is my life, Luke.” Her voice lowers to a whisper. “Which is going very well, by the way. If you weren’t such an insufferable pain in my ass, I would’ve told you I’m dating again.”
“What?”
“Which is to say, I’m living my life. Now it’s time to live yours. What do you actually want your day-to-day to look like?”
Visions of Cass burst in front of my eyes. Of her chatting with all the people we met on our trip, because she genuinely cares that they feel heard even though she’ll never see them again. Of her giving me hell at the airport. Of her head in my lap on the train. Of writhing in the agony of not kissing her at Moab, until I finally did. Of her wearing nothing at all in Vegas—
I swipe past that mental image before I have a heart attack.
I see my life with her as clear as day, whatever city we land in. We’re curled up on a couch we bring home after she sit-tests a hundred of them in the store. We’re hiking trails I’ve never had time—made time—to try, sweating and constantly stopping because I can’t keep my hands off her. We’re taking Elvis for trips to the coast so he can run on the beach, because he loves the ocean. And so do we.
I only see her.
I don’t want to be in a world where we’re apart.
Her history with her mom, the depth of her concern for her sister, and the way she stayed close with her dad even when it was hard, tell me she understands how complicated families can be. She’s not going to make me choose between a relationship with her and helping mine.
Wow, I really fucking blew it.
She’d be well within her rights to never speak to me again.
Terror grips me at how I left things. How I all but forced her to let this go.
I have to figure out—and then show her—how a life together could be ours, while still leaving space for everything else that’s important to us individually. Because I don’t want to live without her. If that’s selfish, so am I.
“Fuck.” I grip the edge of the counter, and my head hangs in defeat. “I love her so much.”
Sophie smiles so smugly, you’d think she introduced us. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”