Page 69

“Fair enough. Just figure this out. It’s all tied and connected. There’s happy on the other side of all this murky water. I know it. Clear it up, asshole.”

Bette comes back to the table and I shoo Claire away. “Be gone before someone drops a house on you, too.” Bette looks confused as Claire laughs at me and sticks out her tongue.

Lizzie tries to grab her bag. “I have a ton of work. I’m only staying another minute or so. Claire, it was lovely to meet you, but you don’t have to go.”

The two women shake hands and Claire places an extra hand on top.

“I can’t tell you how good it was to meet you. You’re a myth, a legend, and I’ll be delighted to inform the rest of the family you’re not a delusion.”

Bette looks embarrassed and her head bows to stare at her feet. I want to reach over and pick up her chin. She says, “It’s lovely to meet you as well.”

Claire throws her crossbody purse on, then looks directly at her. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on, but perhaps you could give him back the thing you still have that he gave you. His mom would love it if he could finally move on.”

I groan. Claire can’t help herself, but I need her to shut up.

She and my brother were middle school sweethearts, so she’s always been in my life. She knows me better than almost anyone else. She was the person who encouraged me to draw.

Lizzie cocks her head to the side and says, “What do I have?”

“His heart.”

I choke a bit and my bitch-ass sister-in-law walks away with a mic-drop gesture.

I glare as Claire hustles out of the restaurant. The waitress with the cool decorative eyeliner, Annie, comes over. She’s curvy and gorgeous, and if my entire being weren’t wrapped up in Lizzie, In another reality I’d invite her to join me after her shift. But I have to figure this out with Lizzie or Bette. One of them has to know how we move forward.

God, I want to kiss her again. That taste a week ago was a terrible cock tease. Then this week’s furious schedule of painting the tile in the bathroom as I released all my anger and anxiety over her being a room away and I can’t touch her. I can’t hold her or listen to her. And I can’t ask her what the fuck happened.

I won’t let myself be held by our unexplained past any longer. I stare at her and she’s squirming in her chair. Everything needs to be laid out on this table. I can’t stand it another second. What the fuck happened?

“Spill it, BeLizzie.”

She rolls her eyes at my stupid new nickname for her. “Spill what, Daniel Dan Danny Danson?” She bites her lip and hooks her thumbs together.

I lean back and another bottle of wine appears. I glare at the door and Claire proceeds to make an “O” with her fingers and slam her other index finger through the hole. She’s finger fucking herself. I casually shoo her away again, but she turns around and pretends to make out with herself, wrapping her arms around her back and moving up and down. She’s laughing when she turns around, and as BeLizzie looks down, I flip Claire off. She smiles, kisses her middle finger and returns the gesture. Then points with the middle digit towards Lizzie and starts thrusting. I look away and she cackles as she leaves, catcalling as she disappears. She and my brother love to give me shit and this is a whole lot of ammunition.

Maybe if Bette doesn’t pick a fight, we can get some closure. Then maybe I’ll take her to the hockey game tonight. I don’t know how the fuck to handle this, but friendship seems like a path forward. I’ve locked that pain away for so damn long. As I let it surface, looking at her face, it feels fresh. I keep waiting for it to not hurt. Answers. I need fucking answers.

She won’t say anything.

I try another tactic. “You follow my brothers’ careers?”

Her voice is strong, laced with sweetness. That’s who she’s always been. “I couldn’t find you.”

My heart cracks wide open. “I couldn’t find you, either. What the fuck happened? I know you became this Bette married person.”

She waits a beat and her voice is low. “I married him to get over you.”

“Christ. I changed my whole life—”

She interrupts me, “And name.”

“And name, to get over you.”

We both sit back and pour more Sancerre. We sip and she’s somehow more beautiful than my memories. And I can wax pretty damn nostalgic if I let myself. Almost everything looks better, feels better, and is prettier in my rearview mirror. Almost everything.

She breathes out. “Danny.”

“Lizzie.”