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“If we’re gonna do this, I gotta know what the mess is. I know people, Lola. I can help. I have people I can talk to. Shit, I have money if you need it—”
“It’s not that.” Confusion clouds his eyes, and I can only imagine what he assumes about me, having a bookie coming to my brand new business and harassing me. “It’s not that.”
“Will you tell me?” He stares, and I want to say no.
I want to answer the way I was trained to my entire life, not saying a word, not revealing anything.
I want to keep my word to my mom, to protect my dad. To protect Lilah, to protect ourfamily.
But then, in a flash of clarity, I see it for what it is.
My mom wouldn’t want that.
She would never have wanted this mess for me.
She’d want me to have Libby’s because it made me happy, not because it was a photo opp.
She’d want me to shelter Lilah because it was a good thing for a big sister to do, not because there’s no need for us both to feel Dad’s weakness.
And she’d want me to have Ben.
She’d want me to feel this sense of home and security and, shit, cared for.
I remember my mom gossiping with me about boys before she died. Asking me who caught my eye on ice cream runs after school and if I thought brown hair was better than blonde. Telling me not to get lost in boys but to have fun.
And as I got older and she got sicker, she started to give me advice on what I should look for and what I should demand in a partner. In that last year, she would tell me to set my boundaries and make them firm but know that no one was perfect.
And in those last days, she told me about Dad. About his addiction, about his drive, about how much she had done behind the scenes that none of us ever realized.
My mom was the engine behind my father’s success.
But at the end of the day, she did it, this thankless job she had, because she loved my dad down to her bones and she knew he felt the same. He gave herthisfeeling. This mix of freedom and safety and confidence. The feeling running through my own veins right now. I think she knew that they were made for each other, that once she was gone, he’d transfer that passion, for better or worse, to his work.
But I don’t think she could see how much it would affect me, affect Lilah.
She wouldn’t want me to live for Dad and his sins.
She’d want me to follow my heart.
And I know deep down that before I can have Ben, before I can even have the promise of Ben, before I can accept what he’s offering, I need to let him know everything.
So I answer the only way I can think of.
“Yeah. I’ll tell you. Tonight.”
And when relief flashes in his eyes, when he bends down and quickly presses his lips to mine, I know it was the right decision.
Thirty-Four
-Lola-
“You gonna tellme about the pit you dug yourself in?” Ben asks, staring at me over a bottle of beer, Chinese food containers littering his coffee table. I came over to the shop as promised after I closed up and hung out with Hattie until Ben was done. Then we came upstairs together, grabbing essentials from my place and ordering delivery.
The entire time, I both anticipated and dreaded this moment.
On one hand. I’m tired of holding this burden alone.
On the other hand, I’m starting to realize IlikeBen. And part of me is terrified that if and when he hears my whole story, knows the nitty-gritty of it all, he’ll see me differently.
