She looked up at David, who was smiling so brightly he looked like a kid on the last day of school. “It took me forever to find all that shit. My mom has it all buried in all these blue covers.”
“It’s beautiful.”
He led her to her seat, pulled out her chair. When she sat down, he poured sparkling cider into her wineglass. “I was going to raid the old man’s wine room, but I knew you’d bitch at me and worry about getting caught.”
“I love you,” she said, embarrassed by the tears that stung her eyes.
“I love you, too.” He grinned again. “And I’d like to formally ask you to go to the homecoming dance with me.”
She laughed at that. “I’d be honored.” They’d gone to every high school dance together. This would be their last homecoming. At the thought, her smile faded. Suddenly she was thinking of next year and the chance that they’d be separated. She looked up at him; she needed to convince him that they should be together at school. He believed their love could survive a separation. She wasn’t willing to take that chance. He was the only person who’d ever told her I love you. She didn’t want to live without that. Without him. “David, I—”
The doorbell rang.
She gasped. “Is it your parents? Oh, God—”
“Relax. They called from New York an hour ago. My dad was pissed off because the limo was five minutes late.” He started for the door.
“Don’t answer it.” She didn’t want anything to ruin this night for them. What if Jared and the guys had heard about the Hayneses’ business trip? That was all the seed that was needed; a high school party could blossom in a second.
David laughed. “Just stay here.”
She heard him walk down the hallway and open the door. Then she heard voices. A bit of laughter. The door clicked shut.
A minute later, David walked into the formal dining room, holding a pizza box. Dressed in his low-slung, baggy jeans and Don’t Be Jealous, Not Everyone Can Be Me T-shirt, he was so handsome she had trouble breathing.
He came to the table, set the box down. “I wanted to cook for you,” he said, losing his smile for just a second. “I burned the shit out of everything.”
Lauren stood up slowly, moved in close to him. “This is perfect.”
“Really?”
She heard the neediness in his voice and it touched her heart in a deep, deep place. She knew how that felt, wanting to please someone. “Really,” she answered, pressing onto her toes to kiss him.
He pulled her into his arms, held her so close she couldn’t breathe.
By the time they ate the pizza, it was cold.
SIX
Livvy’s new house was a 1970s-style split-level on a big corner lot in one of the nicer subdivisions in town. Some of the homes—the really expensive ones—looked out over the ocean. The rest had access to a kidney-shaped swimming pool and a community center that proudly offered kitchen facilities. When Angie had been in school, Havenwood had been The Place to live. She remembered sitting around the pool in the summers with her friends, watching the mothers. Most of them were in lounge chairs, wearing sexy one-piece swimming suits and wide brimmed hats; cigarettes and gin and tonics were in every adult hand. She’d thought they were so sophisticated, those white-bread suburban women. Nothing like her spicy Italian mother who had never spent a day lounging beside a community pool.
Her sister must have looked on this place with the same adolescent longing to belong.
She parked in Livvy’s circular driveway behind the Subaru wagon and got out of the car. At the front door, she paused.
This had to be done carefully. Surgeon-doing-open-heart-work carefully. Angie had been awake most of last night thinking about it. Well, about that and other things. It had been another bad night in her lonely bed, and while she’d lain there, remembering what she’d longed to forget and worrying about her future, one thing had come clear: She had to get Livvy back to work. Angie had no idea how to run the restaurant by herself and no desire to do it for long.
I’m sorry, Liv.
Those were clearly the opening words. After that, she’d eat a little humble pie and cajole her sister with compliments. Whatever would work. Livvy had to return to the restaurant. Angie hadn’t wanted to work here for life, after all; just for a month or two until she could sleep alone in her bed again.
She knocked on the door.
And waited.
Knocked again.
Finally Livvy opened the door. She wore a tight pink velour sweat suit with J. Lo emblazoned across her chest. “I figured you’d show up. Come on in.” She backed up and turned around. There wasn’t really room for both of them in the postage stamp–sized entry. Livvy went up the carpeted stairs to the formal living room, where a plastic runner lay over the carpet, showing the preferred footpath.
Pale blue velvet sofas faced each other, separated by a glossy wood table. The accent chairs were ornately gilt; the fabric was pink and blue flowers. The sculpted carpet was orange.