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Her hand returns to her hip and her eyes narrow. She’s thinking about my question. “Because I like her.” Her brows lift, and her gaze zips up to mine. “Becauseyoulike her.” She gives one nod like it’s final. Mom said it so it must be fact. “Because she likes you.”
“That doesn’t merit a mantel photo. Besides, she doesn’t like me.” I don’t say that I don’t like Meredith, because I’m not accustomed to lying to the woman who raised me. But then again, I’m pretty sure Meredith does like me. She said as much. She kissed me. Still, I won’t speak for her.
Only… I did speak for her when I said she didn’t like me. I’m pondering this, still trying to figure out how to come out on top—how to make sense of it all—how to not look like a total oaf.
But my mother laughs, loud and scoffing. “She does too. And you’re fooling yourself if you think otherwise.” She taps me on the chest, then stoops down to pick up her gloves.
“Well,” I say, following after her, “she shouldn’t.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why ever not?”
“Because,” I say, as if that one word is answer enough.
“Because Laura didn’t understand your heart and left?”
“Laura?” My brows furrow—I couldn’t stop them if I tried. “What does Meredith have to do with Laura?”
“That’s just it,” she says, giving me that motherly pointed look—the one that says,listen up, bub, I’m wiser than you.“Nothing. She has nothing to do with her.”
“I know that.” See? I’m just as wise as you, lady… Okay, I’m not. But I’m not admitting that just yet. “So, why bring her up?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because you’re in total denial. Laura left. She didn’t understand your need to help me, to help all of us. She didn’t understand that your heart is big enough for it all. Meredith isn’t Laura.”
“Believe me, I am very aware.”
“Well, I like her. I’m glad she’s in your life.”
“We’re just friends,” I say, but the memory of Meredith’s lips on mine is tangible. I can summon the sensation with just a thought. So… maybe I’m wrong.
Maybe I am growing accustomed to lying to the woman who raised me. And maybe, I’m okay with it.
“Hah!” she laughs. “When did you start fudging the truth?” she says, seeing right through me.
I might be lying. But I’m not getting away with anything.
34
Meredith
“He kissed me and it was lovely.” My shoulders are back, and I sit tall, confident. I am not ashamed of anything.
“I noticed.” Uncle Bob sips from his coffee, his tan, plaid robe opened and showing off Garfield pajama bottoms, his eyes on his computer screen.
“I’m doing laundry today. Then I’m going to Nikki’s. We’re baking cookies and riding—”
“Meredith—”
“I know. I know. I’m twenty-three years old and I can do what I want.”
He taps his keyboard, just one button—like a period, exclaiming that he’s finished. Then his gaze travels up to me. “Why are you so nervous?”
“I’m just anxious. If my day weren’t full, I’d be at the shop. I want to talk to Levi.”
“Are you sure you’d be talking?”
I clamp my teeth down on my bottom lip. “Well. No.” I’d be fine with more kissing.
Levi Bailey kissed me. He kissed me. And I thought I might burst from my own personal cocoon and fly home. But then, he just kept right on kissing me and I didn’t want to fly, I wanted to stay right by his side, my lips against his.
