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My intentions to avoid him crumble. That voice is intoxicating. I want it surrounding me. I want it any way I can have it.
"Forget about moving up the wedding," he says. "Let's do it as planned at the gardens. I wanted to marry you."
Those words are music. They're poetry.
They're bullshit.
I shake my head. "I can't."
His fingers brush my wrist. "There must be some way I can change your mind."
Warmth fills my body. Damn thing is against me. "There is."
"Well?"
I turn and take in his expression. It's the strangest mix of sadness and steel. The guy is going to hell over this, but he's still a goddamned automaton.
"It's not a possibility," I say.
His voice is strong and deep. "Anything is a possibility."
I shake my head. "This is one thing you can't negotiate." Small step backwards. "Let Meryl know I'll see her tomorrow."
"Kat."
"Take care of yourself."
"You too."
Chapter Thirty-Three
"Loverboy sent a gift." Lizzy points to a small package on the kitchen table.
"What are you doing up?" I ask.
"Heard you leave." She taps her fingers against the table. "So…"
I copy her annoyed tone. "So…"
She nods to the package. "I made coffee." She lifts her cup. "French roast."
I pour myself a cup and sit at the table.
"So…" Lizzy taps her toes. Clears her throat. Takes a long sip. "Are you going to open it?"
"It's more fun making you wait."
And I'm not exactly prepared for whatever this is.
It's a small package wrapped in plain grey paper with a pink bow on top. It suits him. It's exactly like his sleek, utilitarian office.
It's his life. Grey everywhere. The one touch of color is superficial. It's easy to tear away.
Even if it's my favorite color.
And the theme of the wedding.
Lizzy sighs. "I'm opening it."
"Don't you dare."
She raises her eyebrows. "I already read the card."
"And?"
She grabs the card—it's the same grey as the wrapping—and holds it to her chest. "Not sure if he wrote it before you dumped his sorry ass."
My stomach flip-flops. Fine. I'll read the damn card. I grab it from Lizzy's hands.
Kat,
I hope this gets your mind off things. If it's not enough, my way is a lot more fun.
Sincerely,
Blake
Sincerely.
It twists the knife in my chest.
But it proves me right.
I can't be a sincerely.
I unwrap the present carefully.
It's hard. Slick. A book.
It's a hardcover copy of Ghost World, a special print with the entire comic and the screenplay from the film. I flip it open and—
It's signed.
It's perfect.
My heart thuds against my chest.
I'm a sincerely.
That's what matters here. Not that this present is perfect. Not that Blake seems to know exactly what I want.
I close the book and push it to the center of the table. Coffee. I need to drink this coffee. I take a long sip. French roast. Black. Strong. Hint of vanilla.
Just like what was on his lips after the pool.
Fuck. It's not working.
"Hey… Kat…" Lizzy's voice is sing-song.
"Yeah?"
"Want me to get out of here so you can have a booty call?"
"No." I move the hardcover to our bookshelf. I'll look at it later. When it makes me think of something besides his strong hands and his piercing eyes. "I want to have brunch with my sister."
She smirks. "You want a booty call at his place."
"No, Lizzy. I broke off our engagement last night, and his mom is in the hospital. It's not the time for a booty call. Okay?"
She slumps in her chair. "I was just kidding."
"Sorry, I haven't slept."
"So can we go to the brunch place that doesn't card?" she asks.
"No way in hell."
Brunch is quiet. I eat a full plate of stuffed French toast and spend the afternoon napping with my sketchbook pressed against my chest.
Lizzy makes dinner. She's not the best cook in the world, but neither am I.
We eat in front of the TV in silence.
Maybe she's reeling too. Her life is going to be different soon. She'll be on another coast. With all new friends and surroundings.
She resigns herself to studying.
I spread out on my bed with my sketchbook. I've been working on all these tiny little comics—four or six or even ten panels. When I lay them side my side, they fit together. They're kind of like Ghost World, actually. They're vignettes about life refusing to stay the same.
It's been changing all this time. It's not just before the accident and after the accident. Every day is different. Every day, I'm different. Meeting Blake…
That's just speeding things along.
I get to work on another six-panel comic. There's so much I want to capture, but I'm not good enough yet.
The images in my head don't come out right on paper. I need training. I need experience.
It's not too late to reverse my decision. It's not too late to take Blake's money to pay for school.
But that feels wrong. There are other ways. Need-based scholarships. Loans.
Working while I go to community college part time.
Between checking school deadlines and working on my comic, I lose track of time.
Lizzy wishes me goodnight. Promises to check on me before she leaves for school tomorrow.
My phone beeps with a low battery warning. I go to plug it in when I see—
Blake: Kat, call me. I need to talk about Meryl.
It's only an hour or two old and there's a missed call to go with it.
I dial Blake and hold the phone to my ear. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay.
"Kat," he answers. "You okay?"
"Yeah. Can you tell me what's going on?" I dig my fingers into the phone. "I mean, thank you for the book."
"It's supposed to be an early wedding present."
"Even so."
"You like it?" There's vulnerability in his voice. He really does want to make me happy.
"Very much." I clear my throat, but it does nothing to chase the light feeling from my limbs. "What's happening with Meryl?"
His breath catches. "Kat…" Every ounce of hope drains from his voice.
My heart sinks.
Blake is rattled.
He's never rattled.
There's no way this is going to be okay.
His voice is quiet. Soft. "She's going home tonight."
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. "What does that mean."
"It's hospice care. She only has a few days."
Fuck. "Are you okay?"
His exhale is heavy. "Are you?"
I shake my head. Something he won't hear.
A tear rolls down my cheek.
How can something so inevitable hurt this badly?
Meryl deserves better.
She deserves more.
She's been so kind to me. Kinder than anyone has been in a long, long time.
I wipe my eyes. "I'll manage."
"She's staying at her house upstate."
"Oh, can I… I don't want to intrude."
"She'd love your company." His voice is steady again.
I take another deep breath. "I'll take the first train in the morning."
"I'm leaving in an hour. I'll pick you up."
My heart races. I manage a choppy breath. "Okay. Knock when you get here. Lizzy is sleeping."
"Sure."
"Thanks."
"Kat?"
"Yeah?" My stomach twists.
"It's gonna be okay."
It's not, but he's sweet to lie.
The knock is so soft I can barely hear it. That was fast. My suitcase is only half packed. My clothes are a mess on the floor.
My head…
This is hard for me. How the hell is he holding on?
