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Chapter 26
Alison ran her finger along the spines of the books on Troy’s bookshelves. They were full of well-loved volumes on a wide range of topics and represented a good balance of fiction and non-fiction.
“I bet you never would’ve pegged me as the kind of guy to have a wall full of books in my house.”
She turned to see Troy watching her, the familiar warmth flowing through her that his eyes always sparked.
“Because you work with your hands?”
He shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first to make an assumption like that.”
She grinned. “I like my men with a healthy mix of brains and brawn.”
He stepped closer and brushed her hair back from her face. “So you admit it. You like me.”
“Hey, you two. Get a room. Geez. I’m gone for two minutes to get my scrapbook, and you can’t keep your hands off each other.”
They turned to see Mila standing at the entrance to the living room. Even though her teasing words were disapproving, her tone and expression revealed that her feelings were anything but. She couldn’t have been happier about Troy and Alison getting closer.
“Sorry, sorry,” Alison laughed and nodded to the scrapbook. “I’d love to see it.”
“There’s a ton of stuff I can’t wait to show you.”
Alison followed Mila to the couch and sat down next to her. She understood her excitement all too well. She and her brother had also grown up in a small town, and she’d also been interested in the arts from an early age, and had very few people to share that interest with.
God, if she’d had the opportunity to befriend someone who’d managed to forge a career in the arts? Who was living proof that it was not just the ephemeral stuff of dreams, but a real possibility? It would’ve changed her life.
She could already see Mila blossoming in the short time she’d known her, like a flower that finally found itself bathed in life-giving sunlight.
Alison knew it had nothing to do with Troy being inadequate as a parent—from what she’d seen, and what Mila had told her, he was amazing. But artistic people needed outlets. They needed kindred spirits to socialize with. They’d wilt and die without that.
In fact, far from missing her fancy foods most of all the way she’d anticipated she would, she mainly missed the arts community in New York.
If only there were some way to combine the supportive, family-like social aspect of life in Valentine Bay—not to mention the scenic beauty—with the thriving arts world of New York…that utopian combination would be a literal paradise.
Mila opened the scrapbook and flipped the pages slowly, telling little anecdotes about some of the pictures, and sneaking shy little glances at Alison every once in a while to gauge her reaction.
Alison was honored that the girl valued her approval so much. It was sweet, and she only hoped that she could always live up to the pedestal that Mila had obviously placed her on.
When Mila turned the next page, Alison saw something she recognized. “Hey, I know that costume!” she cried, a broad grin taking over her face.
“Oh, that’s nothing. Just my Halloween costume from two years ago. No big deal,” Mila stammered as she rushed to turn the page as quickly as she could.
Alison placed her hand flat across the scrapbook page spread, preventing Mila from flipping over to the next page. “Not so fast, lady. You dressed up as my character from Secrets, Secrets as your Halloween costume?”
Mila’s cheeks were flaming red and she’d curled her body inward in an attempt to make herself as small as possible. “Yeah, I mean. I guess. It was no big thing.”
Alison slipped her arms around the girl’s hunched shoulders. “It’s a big deal to me! It’s a huge honor!”
Mila studied her face for about ten seconds, after which she apparently decided that Alison was being sincere and not patronizing. She let a small half smile escape and said, “Okay. Thanks. I mean, I love that show. Time and Space, your duet with Amalie’s character, is kind of like…my favorite song of all time. Like, sometimes I sing Amalie’s part and then let the song just play on your part and I pretend we’re singing together.”
“Um, Mila,” Troy interjected from the kitchen where he was stirring the chili, his voice shot through with thick threads of concern, “maybe that’s…just a little bit too much information.”
Alison jumped in, hoping that she could jump in before the remark could take hold and hurt Mila’s feelings too badly. “Don’t be silly, Troy. It’s not too much at all. I used to do the exact same thing on every cast recording album I ever owned when I was growing up. And the phrase ‘when I was growing up’ is one hundred percent code for ‘I actually still do it all the time.’”
Troy laughed, turning back to the chili on the stove. “All right, all right. I’ll stick to making chili and building houses. Obviously I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Alison turned back to Mila, squeezing her shoulder companionably. “He doesn’t get it,” she explained. “He’s not a show person like we are.”
