She smiles with feigned innocence. “Sure thing, boss.”
“Good. Now.” Levi frowns at the clock on the wall. “I have to be at work in ten minutes.”
“Oh, gosh. I’m sorry,” I say. “We’ll leave now.”
“I’m not kicking you out or anything,” Levi says. “Just letting you know I have to leave. I’m covering Keagan’s shift today.”
“We’ll go with you, anyway. We should get home.” It’s nearly four o’clock and I have dinner duty tonight.
Outside, the girls say goodbye to Levi before getting in the car and closing their respective doors. I linger outside a little longer. “Thank you for the introductions,” I say. “I think it’s incredibly amazing what you’re doing here.”
He grins as if that’s the best thing he’s ever heard, as if he doesn’t hear the praise all day long already. “I’ll send along an invitation to the fundraiser, okay? Which reminds me…” He reaches into his pocket for his phone. “I need your info.”
He holds it out to me. I take it. (Read: I have to physically restrain myself from excitedly ripping it out of his hands.) “Of course.”
“Phone number and email, if that’s all right.”
I give him my phone to add his number to, and add myself to his contacts as “B-E-E”. When I hand it back to him, he laughs.
“Thanks, Bailey.”
I shake my head no. “You’re really off track, you know?”
“Well, how am I supposed to make any real guesses if you won’t give me any clues?”
“You’re not.” I smile mischievously. “That’s the point. I know how to play this game.”
He squares his shoulders. “I’m not giving up. Not now, not ever.”
“That’s nice,” I say, distracted because Astrid is waving at me from the car, her phone in her hands. “What’s wrong?” I call out.
“Mom called!” she yells through her window. “She said we should come home. The storm blew over.”
I nod and wave in response, but when I turn to Levi, he’s got a question written all over his face. “A storm?”
I swallow. “My parents were, um, fighting earlier,” I admit, although saying it out loud sounds a little silly. “Millie started panicking, so I took them out of the house. I told her it’s normal for all parents to fight, but our parents do this so little that I think it’s just weird for us all.”
Levi, I realize, suddenly looks pained. Whatever I’ve said has set off a nerve, and I’m babbling. “I’m sorry,” I add, quickly.
He shakes his head. “No, don’t be sorry.” He shrugs, his shirt moving with his form. “My parents are divorced.”
I wince. “Oh, yeah. Keagan mentioned that.”
“I’m okay with it, now. I live with my mom, and she’s great. I’m happy I only see my dad once a month, if that.”
“Gosh.” I open my mouth, close it, and open it again. I don’t know what to say.
The smile starts to come back into his eyes. “Don’t be flustered. It’s not a big secret or anything.”
(Don’t be flustered, he says. But I am, and it’s not just because I unwittingly brought up a rough topic.) He takes his keys from his pocket and loops them around his fingers. “I’m sorry I have to leave you, Bee, but I’m going to be late. Keagan will kick my ass for screwing up his shift.”
“Oh, right! Yes! So sorry.”
He shakes his head, reaching out to touch my arm. His thumb lingers on the skin above my elbow. His skin feels cold, but maybe that’s because in .5 seconds my body managed to retain the heat of a thousand suns. “You’re always sorry, Bee. Stop that.”
Then he drops his hand and backs up a few steps, slowly.
I grin, despite myself. I’m still thinking about his hand on my arm, and how even though he’s held my hand before (and shook it, and bumped my arm with his, and put his arm around my shoulder), this was far more intimate. This was deliberate. “I’ll try.”
“Good. See you later?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” he repeats, and after looking at me for a moment longer, we part ways on the sidewalk, sunshine stretching between us.
Chapter 15
The third time I hear my mom crying, I’m walking into my house with one arm around my most recent floral creation (which I loved enough to purchase for myself). My stomach instantly clenches at the sound, every part of me going still, with my foot keeping the door half-open behind me.
“Hello?” I call out.
No answer, but the crying fades into soft sniffling. Whatever’s going on, she doesn’t want me to know about it.
I close the door and tip-toe toward the living room, where I’m surprised to see my mom and dad sitting on the couch together. The mood is different this time, raw. They sit on opposite ends, my mom with her face in her hands, my dad leaning back with his eyes on the ceiling. I’ve never seen that expression on his face before, so I don’t know what to call it.
My throat grows tight, eyes clouding. I don’t want to see this. I don’t want to know—not right now, not today. Today has been a happy day.
Swallowing hard, I head to my bedroom, placing the flowers on my desk. I shake my head, ignoring the tension creeping into my shoulders, and pull my phone out of my pocket. There are the expected messages from Gretchen, of course. But there is also a text from Levi, to my surprise and delight. It’s the first text I’ve gotten from him, and it’s been almost a week since we exchanged numbers. (If you guessed that I’ve been dying of suspense this whole time, you’re right. It’s been a terrible week of waiting.)
Levi
Don’t be a stranger, Bianca.
Bee
Not sure who you think you’re texting, but my name isn’t Bianca. :P
Levi
You can’t stop me! I’m a name-finding machine.
Bee
You’ll never guess it! Mwahaha!
I immediately regret sending that. “Oh, God,” I groan.
I switch to Gretchen’s messages while I wait for his reply, my fingers fidgeting over the keypad.
Gretchen
My dad has a business trip out to Arizona next week and I am so upset. Because this means he will be so close to yoooouuuu and I can’t go with him.
Bee
UGH. Why can’t you go?
Gretchen
I wouldn’t be able to get off work. Besides, he wouldn’t drive/fly me out to CA just for a brief meeting. He’s too busy for that right now.
Bee
I’m thoroughly disappointed in him.
Gretchen
I know, right? I thought the parents are supposed to be disappointed in their children’s life decisions, not the other way around.
I almost reply that I’m laughing, but I’m not laughing. I’m not happy at all, and when not even Gretchen can cheer me up, I know it’s serious. On the other side of my bedroom door, I have a crying mother and a concerned father, and I can’t breathe when I think about it.
So I tell Gretchen. I tell her about the quiet talks and sniffling behind closed doors, and what feels to me like well-kept secrets and sadness.
Gretchen
Yikes, Bee. You okay?
Bee
I’m sure it’ll all be okay. They’ll be okay, I’ll be okay, etc., etc.
Gretchen
Please call me if you need to.