We stood in uneasy silence for a beat.
“Thank you for spending time with her,” he said. “She’s been… curious about you.”
“Aren’t kids curious about everything?” I quipped.
He studied me. “That’s not what I meant.”
I sighed. “Look, Andrew—”
“I know,” he interrupted. “You don’t want a relationship. I get it.”
“Good. Because I’m not sure I’d know how to have one with you anyway.”
He nodded slowly. “I probably deserve that.”
“You do.”
The breeze lifted through the gap between us, carrying laughter and the distinct smell of apples.
“I just wanted to say,” he added, “Your mother is an incredible woman. I didn’t tell her that enough. And I’m sorry if I made it harder for both of you.”
For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He deserved every ounce of vitriol I could dredge, but I came up empty. It wasn’t reconciliation or forgiveness—I knew that waited far, far in the horizon. But maybe, I was inching towardacceptance. Whatever the strange, settled feeling, I hoped it was there to stay.
I nodded. “You did.”
Andrew smiled faintly. “She must be proud of you. You’re tougher than both of us combined.”
“I had to be.”
We stood there until Camille tugged his hand and asked to be held. She sunk into him, eyes sliding shut and caramel apple forgotten in the grass at their feet. He scooped it up and turned to go, but I stopped him with one last thing.
“Maybe,” I said tentatively, “We can try at being civil. For Cami.”
He met my eyes, surprise softening his features. “I’d like that.”
Then they walked away, her head nestled into his neck, swallowed by the crowd.
No, it wasn’t forgiveness, but it was something that felt a lot like release.
By the time the sun began to set, Fallfest seemed to be at maximum capacity. I never saw it so crowded—a crush on the sidewalks of Main Street as visitors funneled in and out of the stores that remained open, the band had a crowd, and some of the booths had sold out and closed. The sky was streaked in champagne and rose, the lanterns zigzagging from shop to shop just starting to flicker to life.
I stood in the sand, a fresh cup of hot cider cradled between my hands, and watched the water turn to churning, molten glass. The noise of the festival faded behind me.
Somewhere out there, flights were boarding, and one of those planes would soon carry me away. My suitcase sat at the bottom of my closet, half-zipped, ticket printed and waiting. One foot in, one foot out.
But for the first time in a long while, I didn’t feel like running. The discomfort and the uncertainty no longer loomed like a dark cloud that shadowed everything I saw. I was still aware of its lingering presence. Maybe I’d just… accepted it.
My mother’s words from earlier rang truer than they did before:People choose what they think will hurt least.That’s what Serena did when she chose to marry Jesse. My father thought he was doing that when he abandoned us eleven years ago—and it only ended in unimaginable heartbreak.
Maybe constantly avoiding the pain was no way to live at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Ironically, I slept better that night than I had in weeks.
Georgie came over and watched movies with me and my mother after Fallfest, such a rare occurrence that I might’ve thought I was dreaming if we weren’t scarfing down a box of apple cider doughnuts. Apparently, word spread about my departure, and my very own batch of highly coveted pastries had been set aside with a particularly heart wrenching note. My mother brought burgers and Coke floats—her favorite drink, she said.
I’d learned more about my mother in a few days than I had my whole life. It was as if, slowly, the lights flickered alive behind her eyes for the first time in years.
