Dear Adam, page 16
“You’re welcome to come help if you want,” Aly suggests.
“As fun as that sounds, no thanks,” she says. “I’ve got a hot date with my couch and Netflix.”
“When my cottage is officially done, and it looks fabulous, I just want you to remember you had no part in it,” Aly tells her.
“I’m okay with that,” Emma replies.
I let out a small chuckle and take Aly’s hand as I walk her around the passenger door of her Bronco. She slides in, and I take my spot behind the wheel.
“I can’t believe you’re already driving my car and we’ve only been on what? Two dates?” Aly jokes.
“You have to admit, it’s a much more comfortable ride than the Teenie Mobile,” I say and ease out of the parking space. The Bronco suddenly backfires and I look around, stunned for a moment.
“That happens a lot,” she says with a wave of her hand, as if it’s no big deal.
I get it restarted and navigate out of the parking lot.
“Aly, you really need to get that fixed.” I flip my blinker on to turn left onto the highway.
“I need to get a lot of things fixed with this car,” she tells me. “But with what time and honestly, what cash? Every last dollar I have goes into the cottage or the store. No one prepares you for how expensive being a small business owner is, especially in the early years.”
“I can maybe try to fix it for you, but I don’t know how much I can get done since, you know…I’m leaving soon.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to shove them back in. I should’ve known now was not the time or place, especially after just visiting her brother.
“No, it’s fine,” she tells me. “Honestly, after a few YouTube videos, I can probably fix it myself.”
“Aly—” I start.
“Seriously, it’s fine,” she says, cutting me off. She looks out the window, her shoulders sagging.
“When is Glenda going back?” she asks, fogging up the glass with her breath and tracing frowny faces into it.
“She leaves tomorrow.” I hesitate before adding, “She’s actually got a few calls since your last post. She’s putting together quotes for them.”
“Oh,” is all she says, and my heart sinks lower than I thought possible. I reach for her hand. Thankfully, she doesn’t pull away. Pretzel—who’s sitting on her lap—growls, however, which leaves me wondering: am I making the right decision by leaving?
Chapter twenty-two
Aly
“You know I’ve always had a crush on you, right?” I nearly spit out my sweet tea at Levi’s confession. He whacks me in the back, which only makes me sputter more.
“You have?” I finally manage to wheeze out. We’re sitting on the back porch of my cottage, watching the sun go down, reminiscing on high school and watching Pretzel boss Hank around out in the yard.
“Mhm,” he nods. “I realized you were the girl for me during the soccer game against East, when that girl kept kicking you in the shin so you tripped her during the handshake line.”
“I had no idea it was going to have a domino effect and the whole team was going to fall,” I justify. “How did you know it was me?”
“You were the only one who watched it all go down with your arms crossed and a smug smile,” he laughs. “All your teammates were helping them up but not you.”
“I asked her politely to stop, and she just kept doing it!” I throw my hands up, defensive, but I still don’t regret a single thing.
“That’s when I realized it, though,” he says. “That’s when I realized there was no one else like Aly Bloomington.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’ve always had a tiny crush on you, too,” I say on a cough, trying to cover the words.
“You’ve what? Sorry, it sounded like you got choked there for a minute.” The grin that spreads across his face lets me know he heard me loud and clear. I give him a playful shove and try to ignore my fluttering heart and flushing cheeks.
“You know,” he says. “I think Adam knew I had a crush on you and wasn’t crazy about it.”
“What was your first clue?” I ask. “How he always managed to shove himself in between us when we found ourselves alone, or the times he always did something super obnoxious like suggest a burping contest when I was around you two for too long?”
Suddenly, his eyes darken. “Listen. I’ve been meaning to tell you I’m sorry for making fun of your glasses,” he says, tone serious. “I only made fun of them because I was dying to know what kissing you would feel like, and it was the only way to take my mind off it. If it helps at all, Teenie found out I made fun of you and grounded me for a month. Do you want to know what her punishment was?”
“This should be good.” I fold my arms across my chest with a smirk and wait.
“I had to go to knitting class with her every week.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. I could see where it probably wasn’t your favorite thing, but I could definitely think of way worse punishments.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” His voice is barely above a whisper, and his eyes dart around the porch as if Mr. Barnes could be listening—which wasn’t too far-fetched.
“Please do,” I say, following a bead of sweat that trickles from his forehead into the collar of his shirt.
“I kind of liked it,” he whispers.
I feign mock horror and clutch at my chest. “No! You? Enjoyed something other than making fun of me?”
“Remember that red scarf I always wore during the winter of freshman year? I actually made that.” He puffs his chest with pride, and I can’t help but giggle. “Phew,” he says and wipes a hand across his brow. “You have no idea how much better I feel right now. That was really weighing on me.”
“I forgive you for making fun of my glasses, Levi. And thank you for trusting me with your dirty secrets. However, I do not forgive you for making approximately a thousand flatulence noises in my presence. That was and always will be disgusting.”
“You mean like this?” he asks, tucking his hand into his armpit.
“Don’t you dare,” I warn.
“Or what?” he challenges. In an instant, I’m tackling him in his rocking chair and fighting for the hand under his shirt. His stomach is rock hard, and I explore a bit too long, pretending I can’t find his hand.
“Woah!” he says. “Buy me dinner first!”
Before I can retort the sound of wood splitting pierces the air, and we both stare at each other with wide eyes. In seconds, we’re both in a tangled heap on the floor, pieces of dry rotted wood scattered around us.
“I think I got a splinter in a place I didn’t know you could get splinters,” Levi whines, rubbing his backside.
“I should never have picked these rocking chairs up off the side of the road.” I rub at my knee before Levi helps me up and we move to the porch swing.
As soon as he sits, he turns to me with a concerned expression. “Did you pick this up on the side of the road too?”
“No,” I laugh. “It came with the house.” I tap my chin thoughtfully and add, “Although, the house is roughly a hundred years old. So maybe swing at your own caution?”
“Great,” he mutters. We swing in comfortable silence, watching as the sun sinks lower and lower until finally disappearing into the dark water of the harbor.
“Do you ever miss high school?” he asks, scooting closer to lift my legs onto his lap.
“All the time,” I answer. “Don’t you?”
“I wish I would’ve realized how easy life was then,” he professes. “Back when my biggest concern was what color Abercrombie polo I would be wearing to school that day and not trying to save a failing company.” His tone is playful, but I know he means what he’s saying.
“I’m trying to think of what the hardest part of my day was in high school,” I reply. “Probably fighting off Mrs. Hawthorne every evening. Do you remember her?”
Mrs. Hawthorne had been our very old, very cranky neighbor who never failed to yell at me or Adam at least once a day. We were either being too loud and causing distress to her ancient Poodle, Chancy, or whatever other absurd thing she could think of to scold us for that particular day.
“How could I forget her and her fake British accent? One time I came over to visit Adam and she hit me with her cane because she said I parked too close to her Cadillac…which was across the street.”
“One time, Chancy bit me on the ankle when they were out for a walk and she never apologized for it. She just muttered something about getting too close and walked away. I never forgave her for that. From that day forward, I always put our junk mail into her box. It was so satisfying watching her go through two of everything.”
“You are so bad,” Levi says with wide eyes. I giggle and playfully nudge his shoulder with mine. “When Adam wakes up, do you think he’ll be okay with this?” he asks quietly after a beat.
I consider his question, the same one I ask myself at least a thousand times a day. Will Adam be okay knowing the entire time he’s been in a coma, his childhood best friend and sister have been seeing each other? “I really don’t know,” I finally say. “He made it pretty clear in high school he wasn’t okay with it.”
“Surely things have changed by now, though, right?” he asks. Concern laces every line of his face, and while I should be more concerned about the topic at hand, I find myself pleased that Levi cares this much. “I mean, we are almost thirty.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek. “Something about it does feel weird, you know? We’re out here having the time of our lives together, or at least I am with you, ”I tack on sheepishly, “and he’s stuck in a hospital room with a million machines attached to him to keep him alive. I feel guilty.” I had hoped that finally confessing this would be a weight lifted off my shoulders, but now I feel even worse, as if saying it somehow made it more true.
Levi grows quiet and picks at a splinter in the wooden swing. “I feel guilty every single day,” he says quietly. “I’m the one who left him without a word ten years ago, and when he was nice enough to come visit me, when I definitely didn’t deserve it, this happens. It feels like a punishment for leaving everyone here in the dust.” He tosses the splinter to the ground then raps his fingers against his arm of the swing. His once sparkling amber eyes are now dull and full of sadness. When he speaks, it’s so low I almost miss it. “I should be the one in a coma right now, not him.”
The weight of his confession slams into my chest like a semi. All along, I’ve been selfishly thinking I was the only one truly affected by this. How did I never consider Levi’s feelings? Behind his strong posture and easy going attitude, he’s been struggling with the weight of this and carrying it alone.
I still his rapping fingers by curling my hand around his, choosing my next words carefully. “No one should be in a coma right now, Levi. And this is not a punishment.” He continues to stare at the ground and chews furiously at the inside of his cheek. “I wish you would’ve called or come back to visit in the last ten years, but I understand why you didn’t. That doesn’t justify anyone being in a coma, okay?”
He silently nods and looks out over the yard. There’s a cargo ship coming into the harbor, and the consequential waves lap softly at the rocky shoreline. Pretzel and Hank have curled up beneath our feet, only letting out the occasional muted yip as the result of a dream.
I rest my head on Levi’s shoulder, wishing I could take his guilt away but knowing the best I can offer is my love and support while he works through this on his own.
And that’s when I realize: I’m falling in love with this boy, and have been falling since the day I first met him, with his floppy hair and easy grin. I rub the calluses along his knuckles, noting how perfectly our hands fit together. This should be a perfect evening, yet something is off. I can’t help but wonder if he feels the same.
Chapter twenty-three
Aly
“I think I’m actually busy, Mom, but thanks for the offer,” I fib and hold the phone away from my ear, expecting an earful. Sure enough, the unmistakable bark of dad’s voice booms through the speaker. Emma shoots me a pitied look as she puts the last of the flower buckets back into the cooler. It’s been a long day at Bloomie’s, and I was looking forward to going home and spending the evening in my newly remodeled bedroom, watching Friends reruns. Apparently, my parents have other ideas.
Reluctantly, I move the phone back to my ear and catch the end of my dad lecturing me on the importance of family time. If only he would’ve given himself that little pep talk about twenty-seven years ago.
“I expect you there at six o’clock sharp, Alyson. Do not be late and do not bring that dog. Your mother had to buy me all new underwear after the last time you let that little rat roam freely around the basement.”
“It’s Adam’s dog, Dad, and I have to bring her. I can’t just leave her by herself.”
“Figure it out,” Dad commands, his tone harsh and full of anything but love. I rub my temples in an attempt to keep my temper in check.
After a few more minutes of lecturing from my parents, I end the phone call and release a pent up breath of air. Emma leans her hip against the counter and raises her eyebrows. “So?”
“My parents planned a family dinner tonight and, for some reason it’s incredibly important that I attend.”
“I wonder what’s going on…” she muses.
“Something about the charity gala, I’m sure. It’s still a few weeks away, but they hire people for everything: the planning, the food, the entertainment. They’re solely the name on the checks and that’s about it. They’ve never needed my opinion on anything before.” I scoop Pretzel up and flip off the lights in the shop. Right as we’re walking out the door, a familiar Mini Cooper pulls up in front, and my heart races.
“He really has no shame driving that thing around, does he?” Emma asks under her breath.
“I see it as confidence, and I think it’s very attractive, thank you very much.”
“Call me if you need me later,” she calls over her shoulder and jogs to her car.
Levi unfolds himself from the tiny car, and I decide then that I’ll never tire of the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, hinting at what’s underneath. His beard has been neatly trimmed and his usual baseball cap is gone, his hair neatly combed. A soft lick from Pretzel brings me back to Earth and with it, a plan to make this evening not so terrible. He casually kisses me on the cheek, and the spot where his lips touched flushes.
“Why is Pretzel wearing goggles?” he asks in lieu of a greeting.
I point to the Vespa. “How else am I supposed to protect her little eyes?”
“Where does she sit?” he asks, walking around the Vespa and inspecting it like an extra seat would magically appear.
“I…put her in my backpack and wear it backward on my chest,” I stammer, embarrassed, and he chokes back a laugh behind a balled up fist. “Whatever. It works. And who are you to judge? You’re driving around a car that has eyelashes.”
“Touché,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “But my real ride back in California was a truck, just so you know.”
“I love to pollute the air I breathe, too,” I say with squinty eyes and the meanest look I can muster.
“Woah, what’s got you in such a bad mood?” He backs away with his hands in the air.
“I have a mandatory family dinner tonight at my parents’. It should be fine, though.”
“Why is that?” he asks, frowning in suspicion.
“You’re coming with me.”
“You want me to come to dinner at your parents’ house? I think I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been inside your house, and it was never once for a family dinner.” He rakes a hand through his perfectly combed hair, somehow managing to make it look even better.
“I ate dinner with your parents,” I point out.
“But my parents are a lot more…approachable than yours.”
“They are,” I agree. “But if you came, it would make this unbearable dinner a little more bearable.” With puppy dog eyes, I tack on, “Please?”
“I was actually going to see if you wanted to go to dinner tonight,” he says, and his polished appearance makes more sense.
“Perfect, so you’re free. We’ll still be eating dinner together,” I say. “Just with some snooty, stick-up-the-butt company.”
Riding around in the Teenie Mobile has become second nature to me. Honestly, I’ve grown quite fond of the eyelashes on the headlights and the purple under glow. I should put a bug in Teenie’s ear that if she ever wants to sell it, I call first dibs. But, driving the Teenie Mobile through the wrought iron gates of my parent’s mansion and parking next to their fancy cars has me stifling a fit of giggles.
“I knew I should’ve traded cars with my dad before coming here,” Levi mutters with a heavenward glance.
“It’s fine,” I reassure him. “We didn’t have time to trade vehicles anyway.”
We decided to leave both dogs at my cottage in one of the back bedrooms that hadn’t been remodeled yet, just in case. After dropping them off and making sure the room was as puppy proof as possible, we didn’t have time for Levi to swing by his parents and sweet talk his dad into letting him borrow a company truck. Truth be told, Dad would probably frown at a muddy, older model work truck as much as the Teenie Mobile, anyway. I wasn’t about to tell Levi that, though.
Levi gets out and walks around to open my door. He gently takes my hand, and I notice how clammy his is.
“Are you okay?” I ask, giving it a squeeze.
“I’m a little nervous,” he stammers and, despite the warm, summer breeze, he shivers a little.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” I tell him. “They don’t love anyone, not even their two children. So just go into this with the lowest expectations possible, and you won’t be disappointed.”
When we arrive at the large, antique, carved-oak front door, it swings open before we’re given the chance to knock. One of the butlers, dressed in all black, greets us with a warm smile and slow, southern accent.
