“Yeah, but last year you and Maggie had just moved and you couldn’t find your swimsuit or any of your summer clothes. You came in sweatpants. Remember how bitchy you were the entire time because you were so hot?”
I scowl at him. A big dramatic glare that I hope covers up the tightness in my jaw and the ache behind my eyes from the fact that my life is a total effing mess and has been for years. Sweatpants because I couldn’t find my clothes? Christ on a cracker, it sounds so ludicrous coming out of his mouth.
He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’m just reminding you so you can start looking for your swimsuit now.”
“Not like I’m going to swim in deep water anyway. Hello, water beasts.”
He rolls his eyes several times to let me know how ridiculous I am. “Just find it.”
“Fine. Who all’s coming?”
“You, Kimber and me, Macon and Janelle, and Eva. Going simple this year.”
“Oh. Eva’s coming?”
Luca pulls a face. “Um, yeah. Considering she lives with us and all, I figured it’d be pretty rude to not invite her.”
“Right. Right, okay.”
“What the hell’s up, Gray?”
“Nothing.” I pull my order pad out of my pocket and fiddle with the pages. “It’s just—?”
“Grace!” I hear Emmy call through the swinging door into the dining room. “You have a four-top!”
“Okay, thanks!” I stuff the pad back into my apron. “I’ve got to go.”
“Hang on.” Luca hooks his finger through the waistband of my apron. “What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing. Eva and my mom are just hanging out some, and it’s weirding me out.” I say it really fast, like speed can make it less weird.
“Oh,” Luca says, wincing a little. “Yeah. Mom and Eva have had some words about that.”
“What do you mean?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “You know . . . Mom’s just concerned. I mean, she hasn’t told Eva too much about Maggie’s . . . history. She wouldn’t do that, but Eva’s having a hard time settling in with us, and Mom’s trying to figure out the best way to help her. Maggie told her to quit dance, for crying out loud.”
“She didn’t tell her to quit. She told her she didn’t have to do it.”
“Is there a difference?”
“I think so.”
Luca frowns. “Well. Mom’s still worried. And you know how Maggie is.”
I fold my arms. “Yeah. I do.”
He presses his mouth flat and gives me this Come on, Grace sort of look. “Then you know she’s probably not the healthiest influence on Eva right now.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah. I mean, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.”
He stares at me before shaking his head and walking over to the time clock on the wall. “Kimber was right; this always happens,” he mutters.
My stomach clenches. “Kimber? What always happens?”
“You and your mom. You can’t be pissed off about her bullshit, Grace, and then get pissed at me when I call her on said bullshit. You can’t have it both ways.”
“I’m not trying to have it both ways.” But even as I say it, I know that’s exactly what I’m doing. In the back of my mind, I know Emmy has every reason to be wary. She and Mom have a precarious relationship for a reason. Healthy moms don’t take off on their kids for a few days, only to turn up like nothing happened. But the minute anyone actually says this, my hackles go up.
“Have you told Eva anything about Maggie?” he asks.
“No. You think it’s easy to talk about?”
“Of course not, Gray. But I don’t want Eva to get hurt,” he says, jabbing at the numbers on the screen. “And if you’re really friends, if you’re . . . if you like her, how could you not tell her?”
I ignore that last part, because I don’t know. I don’t know. “She won’t get hurt.”
He turns to me, his eye narrowed in unbelief. “You can’t know that. You get hurt every single day. And usually I don’t say anything because I know that’s not what you want, but that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it.”
“Eva can take care of herself.”
“Like you, huh?”
My mouth falls open, but I quickly snap it shut. Still, Luca sees it and rakes a hand through his hair.
“Grace!” Emmy calls again.
“Just go,” Luca says. “I’m doing inventory today, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”
God, I hate fighting with Luca. Hate it. “You want to do something tonight?” I ask, needing to smooth this out.
He shakes his head. “Kimber and I are hanging out at her place.”
I press my lips together to keep them from trembling. I don’t know what else to say or do, so I leave, unsure how things with Luca went south so fast.
Chapter Nineteen
THAT NIGHT I CAN’T SLEEP. WHEN I GOT HOME AFTER logging a few more hours on the piano at the Book Nook, Mom and Pete were arguing about how much of his beer she’s been drinking lately, and then they disappeared into their bedroom, dinner be damned. They haven’t emerged since, and, honestly, I really don’t want to know why. I feasted on a bowl of maple-and-brown-sugar instant oatmeal. Jay had some of his miscreant friends over until long past midnight. And while he did offer a pretty human-sounding invitation to join them, I declined and locked myself in my room. By the time the house quiets, it’s nearly two a.m. and I still haven’t slept.
Nights like these, when Mom is totally unavailable—?either physically or emotionally, which, let’s be honest, is a lot of the time—?I actually miss my father. I don’t know what I miss, exactly, because I literally have zero memories of him. It’s just him. The other half, a presence to help me with Mom, to take me out for ice cream, to have some sort of healthy litmus test when dealing with guys and my suddenly temperamental best friend. Then again, if Dad were here, my mother would be a very different person. I would be a very different person. Maybe we wouldn’t even live here; I wouldn’t know Luca; I’d never have met Eva; I’d be cute and sweet and easy to trust and love.
Sometimes I wonder if Mom glosses right over me because of the way I look. I have her coloring—?the same blond hair and pale eyes and freckles spilling over my cheeks, but that’s it. My mouth and nose and ears, the shape of my face, even the arc in my eyebrows, are all James Glasser. When Mom looks at me—?really looks at me—?I always get the feeling she’s looking at a ghost. And maybe, if Dad were still here, I’d be flesh and blood to her instead of a memory. I’d just be her daughter.
I let out a shaky breath and turn over on my side, facing the dark expanse filling the window. Thoughts finally begin to still, and my eyes are just starting to grow heavy when I hear a plink against the window. I prop myself up on one elbow, barely registering what I’m seeing when the window begins to lift, a brown hand curling under the sill and pushing it up. Cool, briny air blows in as Eva squeezes herself through the opening and lands on my bed with a soft Oof.