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I nodded and she smiled. I didn’t even think she knew how her smile worked, but it was powerful. The way she smiled my way made me feel as if I wasn’t completely damaged goods.
“So now, tell me about your mixtape,” she said.
“My what?”
“Your mixtape. I figured as a musician, this would be the best way to get to know your story. Every person in this world has a mixtape of sorts, a collection of tracks that defines their lives. Each memory is a song, and they all come together to create a masterpiece. So, tell me about your story. What lyrics, what melodies, live on your mixtape?”
In that moment, I knew I was in the right hands.
I took a deep breath, clasped my hands together, and began to speak about one of the most important songs on my mixtape. As the words sat in my throat, they burned, but I managed to push them out of me. I managed to share that painful song. “I had a twin brother named Alex who passed away almost seven months ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Oliver.” Abigail looked up at me with sincere eyes and comforting tones. “Go ahead. Tell me a little about him.”
18
EMERY
Each day, I felt closer to Oliver. Not only did we have our nightly phone calls, but now during the day we also ate our meals together with Kelly. He asked me questions about my life, and I asked him questions about his. He never talked about his brother, and I didn’t push for him to do such a thing. I figured he’d bring Alex up when he was ready to talk about him. But he told me a million other things.
He told me about his struggles with fame. He told me about his favorite book growing up. He talked about his fears of how he thought his music wasn’t going to be good enough, and how he doubted fans wanted to hear it.
He opened up to me day by day, and every time he revealed a new piece of his story, my heart fell for him a little more. He was a beautiful man with a beautifully scarred soul, and the best part about it was that he didn’t even know how beautiful he was. The broken pieces of his story were exactly what made him shine.
“Mama, do I really get to swim in Mr. Mith’s pool today?” Reese asked me as we drove to Oliver’s house for the Fourth of July party. I had all the food prepped and ready to be cooked up later that afternoon, but I was heading over to Oliver’s early before anyone else arrived so I could set up a little more.
Even though fewer than ten people were going to be attending the get-together, I had enough food for an army. I didn’t know why I felt so nervous about it all. Maybe because I was going to be meeting Oliver’s parents. Not that it meant anything. Oliver and I weren’t involved with one another. But still, my mind felt entangled by the idea of meeting the parents.
Reese’s mind, however? She was focused on one thing and one thing only—the pool. She’d been going on and on about the swimming pool ever since I told her about it.
“Yes, but only when I finish cooking. You can’t go in by yourself, since I’ll be working.”
“But Mama!” she cried.
“Don’t ‘but Mama’ me, Reese. Those are the rules, and if we don’t follow them, there will be no pool time at all.”
She grumbled and whined the whole ride over, until we pulled up to Oliver’s home. By that point, her eyes widened from shock, and her jaw dropped to the ground. “Oh my gosh,” she whispered, staring at the mansion. “Can we just move here?” she asked, making me laugh.
“Probably not.” I put the car in park and turned to look at her. “Now, remember what we talked about. Today, you’re going to meet some new friends, do some of your coloring activities, help me make a few meals, and what else?”
She sighed and slapped her hand against her face. “And not ask Mr. Mith why his mirrors are covered in his house and not tell Mr. Mith that his music is garbage even though it is garbage because calling someone’s music garbage isn’t a nice thing to do.”
I smiled. “Exactly. Now, come on. Let’s get inside.”
She was quick to unbuckle her seat belt and then hopped out of the car, pretty much sprinting toward the front door. The moment Oliver opened it, he gave Reese a stern look. “You here to give me a hard time, kid?” he asked with a smug look on his face. A sexy, sexy smug look.
Reese placed her hands against her hips. “Depends. Are you gonna give me a hard time, Mr. Mith?”
