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“Thanks, but that’s a hard no, Dad.”
He nods in my direction and grins. “You’re hugging vases now?”
“Lily’s taking it with her.” Reluctantly, I place it on the table. “I think I just grew attached to it. I loved seeing the flowers in it. Remember how Cherry used to sniff them?”
Alex’s lips press together as he looks at the vase. “That’s my favorite vase, kiddo. It was a gift,” he says to Lily. “Maybe that should stay here.”
Lily shakes her head with exasperation. “You guys are so weird. Fine, I won’t take it. I’ll get one at Pottery Barn.” She picks up the tape gun and closes the box filled with glasses and plates. “Actually, I have an idea I was going to talk to you about. Why doesn’t Penny move down here for a while? It’s such a cute little space.”
“Oh,” I stammer, completely taken by surprise. “I—”
When I first came back to New Hampshire, the plan was that I’d stay with Lily and Alex for a few weeks to make sure I wanted to move back here permanently. Then, I’d get a job and find a small place of my own. Marcus’s proposal and asking Lily to move in with him threw a bit of a snafu in that plan.
Lily continues. “It’ll cost you a fortune to rent an apartment in town and it’ll be even smaller than this one. You won’t charge her a lot, right, Dad?”
Alex looks equally thrown off guard by the suggestion. “I wouldn’t charge her anything.” He turns to me and smiles awkwardly, obviously just as uncomfortable as I am about continuing this we’re-just-friends facade. “You can stay here as long as you want.”
“I think it’s a great idea,” Lily says excitedly. “And you can keep all my furniture. I don’t need it.”
Nodding, I force a smile to my lips that I’m sure looks completely batshit. “That’d be great.”
In a different scenario, it would be great. If I wasn’t in love with her father, and if an ache wasn’t feathering through my chest, cinching around my heart. The walls close in around me, and my insides begin to tremble— threatening to shatter the composure and confidence I brought with me to New Hampshire. I can almost feel a crack splintering me in half, and the voice and the memories are seeping in like an early morning fog.
What the hell is going on? This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I’m not supposed to be living in a basement apartment in my own house, two floors from my husband. This is all wrong. All so terribly, horribly, wrong…
You’re completely fucked up, Penny. The delusions are starting again. You never should’ve gone off your meds. You’re going to lose Lily. And Alex. And Brian. And your mind.
“Lily, do you mind if I help you pack later?” I fight to keep my voice even. “I have a bad headache.”
“Of course. Now’s a good time to stop, anyway. I have to make Brian his lunch.” She gives me an empathetic look. “Can I get you anything?”
I shake my head reassuringly. “No, I’m fine. I’m just going to lie down for a few minutes.”
When I get upstairs to my little room, I sit on the bed and wrap my arms around myself, rocking slightly, afraid I’m going to hyperventilate.
This can’t be happening again. This isn’t my house. I’m not married. That vase isn’t mine. I don’t hear voices, or remember things I have no idea why I’m remembering.
I’m fine.
But I’m not.
Tears pool in my eyes and slowly trace a path down my cheeks. I hug myself tighter as my body quakes with fear.
My father was right. I shouldn’t have stopped all my meds. I shouldn’t have come back here. There really is something wrong with me. I—
My racing thoughts come to a slamming halt when there’s a soft knock on the door.
I swallow hard and straighten my spine. “Come in.”
I don’t know if I want to hide or throw my arms around him when Alex steps in. He closes the door behind him and moves to lean against the small dresser across from my bed. I quickly wipe my damp cheeks with the back of my hand.
“Are you crying?” His voice is so soft and caring that it almost makes me burst into tears. “You really don’t have a headache, do you?”
“No,” I answer tearfully.
His gaze lingers on me. The air between us feels different, as if it’s charged with nervous exhilaration, akin to balancing at the edge of a dark cliff. “I was watching you downstairs,” he finally says. “You seemed really upset about that vase.”
I release a short laugh and wave my hand dismissively. “I don’t know why I was acting like that. It’s just a vase. It’s not even mine.”
He cocks his head and his hair falls over his forehead, just above his eyes, making him look dark and intriguing. “Brianna made it in a pottery class she took. She gave it to me the day we moved into this house. She called it our housewarming gift. She used to put wild flowers in it almost every day, and then you started doing the exact same thing when you moved in.”
