“Aren’t you going to let me in?” I inquired, eyeing her Chihuahua-sized guard dog that was masquerading as a nine-year-old girl.
“Casey knows better than to let in strange men that are creeping about.” Aurelia patted the little girl’s dark head. They favored each other in so many ways, I couldn’t even begin to count them. It was like looking at a tiny clone of Aurelia, if you subtracted fifty or so years. The girl did seem to have a little more height working on her side. She was already almost taller than her grandmother.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called creepy before.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.” She eyed me speculatively. “Well, come in, if you must.”
Without a word, I handed off the bouquet of flowers I’d had hidden behind my back to Casey, then sidestepped her to wrap my arms around the woman I missed every time I opened my fridge to find it lacking a snarky little note about my weight. She let me have my hug, embracing me back with motherly affection.
“I know you’ve missed me,” I assured her with a wide smile.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed my flowers from Casey, dismissing the child and leading us into her kitchen. It was impeccably clean, not that I expected anything less. The appliances were outdated, but somehow, it only added to the cottage-like charm. It was like stepping into a fairytale with the baby-blue cabinets and cream-colored walls. There were no signs of the rundown world residing just outside the windows.
She instructed me to take a seat at the round table in the corner of the room, and I happily took one of the four cushioned chairs that looked like they’d come straight out of a 1950’s American sitcom. I admired the house’s mismatched appeal as she made us tea.
“I’ve come to steal you away,” I announced when I’d run out of things to examine.
“How romantic,” she replied dryly, still busy with the stove. I was a little disappointed she didn’t need a footstool to reach it. I’d always imagined her needing one when she cooked in the kitchen in my old house. It had only added to her mystique.
“Now we both know you’re too good for me...I’m going to lure you back to Australia with an outrageous salary and promises of building you a grand house. It can even be bigger than mine, if that’s what it takes.”
She had a good laugh at that, almost sloshing the teacups off the tray as she walked to the table.
I sipped my cup contently, letting the warm liquid soothe my throat. It was just the way I liked it, and it only reinforced my belief that she was the best housekeeper I could ever have.
“Now, why don’t you tell me the real reason you’re here. You know very well I’d never leave my grandbabies for any amount of money or square footage.”
I didn’t bother denying it. I’d have been ecstatic if she’d agreed, but I’d known it was a long shot.
“What do you know about love, Aurelia?” I said, getting right down to business.
“I’d much rather hear what you think you know about love.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I think I don’t really know anything about it all,” I admitted. “I think my job has skewered my perspective, so I’ve come to ask for an outside opinion.”
“Who’s the girl?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. She’s gone. My concern lies more now with what that means for the rest of my life.”
“Who’s the girl?” she stubbornly repeated.
“I just told you she’s gone. Why does it matter who she is?”
Aurelia huffed. I pitied little Casey. I could only imagine the lifetime of irritated huffs that waited for that little girl.
“It matters because every fool in your generation is convinced they’re in love. You all have single handedly destroyed the novelty of God’s most rare and extraordinary gift with your fickle ways…How am I supposed to know if you really love her, if I don’t know who she is through your eyes?”
“Adley Adair,” I said her name for the first time in months, the words bitter and fresh at the same time. “Her name is Adley Adair.”
She gave me a look that clearly said that wasn’t going to be enough.
“She’s horrible, really.” I stared down into swirling brown colors inside my teacup. “She has this whole martyr complex. It’s unbelievably annoying. There is no in-between with her, something is either right or it’s wrong; no gray, only black and white. And she can be so wrong sometimes – most times, actually – but she can’t see it, not until it’s on her terms. It drives me crazy. She drives me crazy.”
“Well, you definitely love her,” she stated plainly.
My jaw dropped. “How can you say that after everything I’ve just said? I’m not even sure I love her anymore.”
“You see her for who she really is, past all the disillusions most people get tangled up in when they think they are falling in love. You accept her flaws, and you love her just as much because of them as you do in spite of them.”
“How can you know that?”
She took my cup away from me so I had no choice but to look at her. I felt like a five-year-old getting their racecar snatched because they wouldn’t pay attention.
“I don’t…but you do. That’s why you’re sitting here with me right now…You’re practically begging me to tell you to go get her, to not give up, to make her see that she’s in love with you too. You’re just looking for an excuse to tear out that door and chase her down.”
“I am not!” I couldn’t possibly be so pathetic. “Is that what you think I should do?”
“No.”
“No?”
“If you love someone then you should set them free.”
My face pinched so tightly I almost couldn’t see. “I came to you because I wanted real advice, and I knew you wouldn’t bullshit me. I don’t want a cliché.”
“There is a reason that sayings become cliché, Declan,” she scolded, sounding exactly like what I imagined a grandmother would sound like. I’d never had any of my own. My mother’s parents were estranged, and my father’s were long dead by the time I was born. “People repeat them over and over again because they’re true.”
“You think I should just stop loving her?”
It was her turn to narrow her eyes at me in an almost glare. “If you can just ‘stop’ loving her, then you never really loved her at all. Love doesn’t work that way. If you ever truly love someone, then it never goes away. It can become something else. There are all different sorts of love. It can even become hate – a thin line and all that –And, really, hate is just another kind of caring.”
“So if I love her, I will set her free and just trust that, eventually, she’ll come back to me?” I was trying not to play the role of a petulant child, but she was right; she hadn’t told me anything I wanted to hear.
“That’s one part of the cliché that I have to admit, I don’t always agree with…The point isn’t that you’re letting her go so she’ll come back to you. The point is you love her more than your own selfish desires. You love her enough to let her have her own definition of what your love meant. People can love each other without it meaning that they’re meant to be. I’m sure you’ve seen love like that before.”
I had.
Cam and Adley loved each other like that. I wanted her to be mine – just mine – but a piece of her would always be his, some part of her would always love him. They weren’t meant to be together though. Not anymore. But it didn’t mean they stopped loving each other either.
Maybe, that was all that was meant for Adley and me, too.
Maybe that was just who she was. She was the girl who went through life picking up pieces of men’s hearts, collecting them like people collect stamps or shot glasses, all the while giving little bits of herself away in the process, until there was nothing of her left at all.
Whether I liked it or not, she owned a piece of me, but in the process, I’d gotten under her skin. I owned a piece of her, too, and that, in the least, made it feel worth something.
“So if
she never comes back? If it’s really over?”
“Then let her go. It doesn’t mean your love for her means any less.”
“And if she comes back?”
“Then make her fight for you. Make her prove it to herself that she really wants you…Anything worth having is something that’s worth fighting for.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Adley
I wasn’t in the least bit surprised when my flight got delayed. Life could be a fickle creature sometimes. The universe had spent a lot of time and energy forcing me to see the error of my ways, doing everything it could to try and wrangle me back to California: sending Madeline to North Carolina, placing Alfred in my life with his remarkable story, having Hannah accidentally open my letter, getting Cam to send me a plane ticket at the exact moment everything came together.
I’d fought it every step of the way, and once I’d finally made my mind up to give into its will, it turned its back on me. It needed me to fight for my new direction just as viciously as I’d fought to hold onto my old one. I had every intention of doing that, even if the four-hour delay put me arriving in Los Angeles only an hour before the premier.
My luck didn’t improve once I’d actually arrived, either. Struggling through the busy airport, someone spilt coffee all over my carefully assembled outfit.
There was a drastic temperature change from the East Coast to the West Coast in December, and I’d painstakingly picked out the perfect clothes to accommodate the difference. I’d worn my best pair of jeans and a nice red blouse that could be worn under a heavy coat until I arrived. I had no intention of actually attending the premier (even with time to change, I still didn’t have anything nice enough to wear). My plan was to catch Declan before he left for the event.
I would have called him, but there were things I needed to say face-to-face. It was the only way.
Then there was the issue of how I was actually going to get anywhere.
I stared at my cellphone, making a split-second decision and scrolling down to the name. I pressed the button quickly, calling him before I could change my mind.
I had other options. I could’ve gotten Cam to send a car for me or hailed a taxi. I wanted to make that call though. I wanted to inconvenience him.
Once the call had been made, I rushed into the restroom to change out of my sopping clothes. Does anyone really need that much coffee? With a regretful sigh, I changed into the only other outfit I had with me.
Even after talking to him on the phone, I couldn’t believe it when his car wheeled to a stop in front of me, not thirty minutes later.
“You’re here,” I said, unable to fully cleanse the disbelief from my greeting.
“You called.” He shrugged, and stepped forward to take my light backpack. I’d been too worried about the time to bring anything more than a carry-on. “You’re my sister. That entitles you to a few chauffeur privileges, if I remember correctly.”
We hurried into his black car, a little four-door Audi, chased away by the attendants monitoring the arrivals area of the airport. I told him the theatre the premier was being held at. I knew he’d know how to get there. Thomas was good with directions.
The car was quiet, and since he didn’t make a move to turn on the stereo, I didn’t remind him of it. It wasn’t my place, not anymore. The silence stretched on, and I desperately didn’t want to feel awkward. He was my brother, after all, but the longer we sat there, the more anxious I became. It was one of those moments when you can’t decide if something is just awkward for you, or if the other person feels it too.
“Did you tell Mom and Dad?” I blurted. “That you talked to me before, I mean.”
“No,” he said, as he switched on his blinker a moment before skillfully gliding his car into another lane. “I didn’t want them to have to wait for you to come around. I figured they’ve done enough waiting as it is.”
“And how were you so sure I’d come around?” I recognized his sureness, his easy decisive manner, and it pulled a grin out of me. “It wasn’t like I gave you any indication that you’d made an impact on me the last time we spoke.”
He tore his eyes off the road for a millisecond to raise his eyebrows at me condescendingly. “I always make an impact.”
I laughed and, instinctively, shoved him playfully. Only after I’d done it, did I begin to worry that I’d crossed a line. It had just been my natural reaction, but nothing was natural between us anymore. What if he wasn’t ready to joke with me yet? What if I was ruining it?
“Did you tell them I called you today?” I panicked and changed the subject, hoping to distract him from my faux pas.
“No. You haven’t even told me why you called yet. I figured I’d sort through all of your usual dramatics before alerting them.”
Usual dramatics? What the hell was that supposed to mean? I opened my mouth, ready to lay into him with an angry retort before snapping it closed. I really didn’t have a leg to stand on. I had to take what I could get. I had put them through enough already.
“I shouldn’t have run away,” I finally managed to say. “I was wrong to do that. You were right, you all –.”
“Wait, what was that?” He inclined his head towards me as if he couldn’t hear me. “I couldn’t have possibly heard the great and famous Adley Adair admitting that she was wrong about something, and what was the last part again? I was right!”
I punched him that time with no regret. “Be serious, Thomas!”
“Fine, fine…You know I can’t resist.” He chuckled, but I took satisfaction from the fact that he cringed, rubbing the spot I’d hit.
For some reason, the normalcy of the moment suddenly rushed upwards at me like the turning of the tide and, all at once, I was submerged in an ocean of bittersweet waves. I thought I’d have him again. I’d been so convinced that he was lost to me, squashing even the smallest streams of hope, because hope was a dangerous thing. Hope meant that you had something to lose, and I had already lost too much.
“Oh my God.” He glanced at my face and then did a double take. All of his bravado slipped away, and real concern stretched out every inch of his expression. “Are you crying?”
I could imagine it was disconcerting for him. I never cried. Even as a baby, my parents always said I was strangely melancholy. But if he thought it was weird for him, he had no idea how perplexing the sensation was for me!
“I am not!” I denied, trying to swallow down the tears.
The car began to slow down, and as he turned his blinker on towards the shoulder of the highway, I realized his intentions.
“No, don’t stop!” I shouted. “There isn’t enough time. I really need to get to that theatre, Thomas…I promise, I’m okay. It’s disgusting and so…horribly girlie I can barely stand it, but I’ve discovered that I have all these emotions. I wasn’t crying because I was sad. I was crying because I’m happy.”
“Happy?” He didn’t seem convinced, but he sped up anyways. “I’m happy too, but that doesn’t mean I’m blubbering all over myself about it. You’re as bad as Mom.”
“You’re happy too?” It was almost inconceivable. How could he be happy to be with me after all I’d put him through? He should hate me.
He weighed his words carefully before speaking, “It depends on whether you plan on staying or not, I suppose.”
“Staying?” I’d never even considered the fact that I’d be invited. “Do they even want me anymore?”
Thomas flinched like I’d cut him with my words, and I ran them back through my head trying to discover what I’d said wrong.
“I’ve read the book, you know.”
My mouth went dry, and my face got hot. I felt like I’d been lying in the dessert sun all day; exposed, dehydrated, and panicking. I didn’t even know where to start with the things I had to be embarrassed about, knowing Thomas had read The Girl in the Yellow Dress. I certainly didn’t want to hear his critique of it. Why had it never occurred to me that they would read it?
“I know the things you went through – the choices you made – and you, more than anyone, should understand the unconditional love of a parent for their child. Why do you always forget to let people love you back? Why can’t you see that the same rules apply to you? You aren’t the only one who gets to love and make selfless decisions, you know. Why are you so willing to give things up for the people you love, when you won’t let anyone do the same for you?”
“I don’t know,” I told him softly. “I’m trying to do things differently now though.”
“Then I’ll tell Mom and Dad we’re expecting a guest for dinner,” he said it like it was no big deal, like four years hadn’t gone by without a word, and he was just dropping me off for dance class.
I had to force myself to look away from him and the hope that suddenly sprouted through my chest like wild, unstoppable weeds. The car slowed to a stop, and with horror, I took in the unmoving traffic that clogged through Los Angeles as far as the eye could see. We were still blocks from the theater.
I was never going to make it.
I took a deep, reassuring breath and squared my jaw. If life wanted a fight, then I’d give it one. I opened the door and got out, preparing to make a run for it. I had a much better chance on foot.
“Should I tell Mom and Dad to be expecting two?” Thomas asked with a little smirk, taking in my determination.
I eyed the city blocks in front of me. They seemed to multiply under my scrutiny until they stretched on forever.
“Hopefully.”
“Tell Cam he’s going to have a lot of explaining to do,” he joked, but I didn’t miss the serious edge tightening his voice.
I couldn’t help but grin at his assumption. He thought I was there for Cam.
“Hmm…Might want to tell Mom it’s going to be three then. Maybe I’ll invite Cam as well.”
I slammed the door with a wink.
As I stared at the distance in front of me, I couldn’t help thinking one more time, that there was no way in hell I was going to make it. And then I started running anyways.
Someone I Used to Know Page 27
