We'll Always Have Summer
Page 30

Jere stared at me, his mouth hanging open. “What are you talking about?”
I felt like I was choking as I said, “It’s okay with me . . . if you want to be with her.”
He looked at me like I was crazy. I felt like I’d gone crazy. I heard the water in the shower shut off, and I turned away from him and said, “Just take care of her.”
And then, when she came out, dressed, her hair wet, she looked at me with those hopeful eyes, and I looked back at her like I didn’t recognize her. Completely blank. I saw her eyes dim. I saw her love for me die. I’d killed it.
When I thought about it now, that moment in the motel, I understood I was the one who’d set this thing in motion. Pushed them together. It was my doing. I was the one who was going to have to live with it. They were happy.
I’d been doing a pretty good job of making myself scarce, but I happened to be home that Friday afternoon when, out of nowhere, Belly needed me. She was sitting on the living room floor with that stupid binder, papers all around her. She looked freaked out, stressed. She had that worried grimace on her face, the look she’d get when she was working on a math problem and she couldn’t figure it out.
“Jere’s stuck in city traffic,” she said, blowing her hair out of her face. “I told him to leave earlier. I really needed his help today.”
“What did you need him to do?”
“We were gonna go to Michaels. You know, that craft store?”
Drily, I said, “I can’t say I’ve ever been to a Michaels before.” I hesitated, then added, “But if you want, I’ll go with you.”
“Really? Because I’m picking up some heavy stuff today. The store’s all the way over in Plymouth, though.”
“Sure, no problem,” I said, feeling inexplicably grati-fied to be lifting heavy stuff.
We took her car because it was bigger. She drove. I’d only ever ridden with her a few times. This side of her was new to me. Assured, confident. She drove fast, but she was still in control. I liked it. I found myself sneaking peeks at her, and I had to force myself to cool it.
“You’re not a bad driver,” I said.
She grinned. “Jeremiah taught me well.”
That’s right. He taught her how to drive. “So what else about you has changed?”
“Hey, I was never not a good driver.”
I snorted, then looked out the window. “I think Steve would disagree.”
“He’ll never let me live down what I did to his precious baby.” She shifted gears as we came to a stoplight.
“So what else has changed?”
“You wear heels now. At the garden ceremony, you had on high heels.”
There was a minute hesitation before she said, “Yeah, sometimes. I still trip in them, though.” Ruefully she added, “I’m like a real lady now.”
I reached out to touch her hand, but at the last second I pointed instead. “You still bite your nails.”
She curled her fingers around the steering wheel.
With a little smile, she said, “You don’t miss a thing.”
“Okay, so, what are we picking up here? Flower holders?”
Belly laughed. “Yeah. Flower holders. In other words, vases.” She grabbed a cart, and I took it from her and pushed it in front of us. “I think we decided on hurricane vases.”
“What’s a hurricane vase? And how the hell does Jere know what one is?”
“I didn’t mean Jere and I decided, I meant me and Taylor.” She grabbed the cart and walked ahead of me. I followed her to aisle twelve.
“See?” Belly held up a fat glass vase.
I crossed my arms. “Very nice,” I said in a bored voice.
She put down the vase and picked up a skinnier one, and she didn’t look at me as she said, “I’m sorry you’re the one stuck doing this with me. I know it’s lame.”
“It’s not—that lame,” I said. I started grabbing vases off the shelf. “How many do we need?”
“Wait! Should we get the big ones or the medium ones? I’m thinking maybe the medium ones,” she said, lifting one up and checking the price tag. “Yeah, definitely the medium ones. I only see a few left. Can you go ask somebody who works here?”
“The big ones,” I said, because I’d already stacked four of the big ones in the cart. “The big ones are much nicer. You can fit more flowers or sand or whatever.”
Belly narrowed her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you don’t want to go find somebody.”
“Okay, yeah, but seriously, I think the big ones are nicer.”
She shrugged and put another big vase in the cart.
“I guess we could just have one big vase on each table instead of two medium-size ones.”
“Now what?” I started to push the cart again, and she took it from me.
“Candles.”
I followed her down another aisle, then another. “I don’t think you know where you’re going,” I said.
“I’m taking you on the scenic route,” she said, steering the cart. “Look at all these fake flowers and garlands.
Good stuff.”
I stopped. “Should we get some? They might look good on the porch.” I grabbed a bunch of sunflowers and added a few white roses to the bunch. “This looks kind of nice, right?”
“I was kidding,” she said, sucking in her cheeks. I could tell she was trying not to smile. “But yeah, that looks all right. Not great, but all right.”
I put the flowers back. “All right, I give up. From now on, I’ll just do the heavy lifting.”
“Nice effort, though.”
Back at the house, Jeremiah’s car was in the driveway.
“Jere and I can unload all of this later,” I said, turning off the ignition.
“I’ll help,” she offered, hopping out of the car. “I’m just gonna say hi first.”
I grabbed a couple of the heavier bags and followed her up the steps and into the house. Jeremiah was lying on the couch watching TV. When he saw us, he sat up.
“Where have you guys been?” he asked. He said it casually, but his eyes flickered at me as he spoke.
“At Michaels,” Belly said. “What time did you get here?”
“A little while ago. Why didn’t you wait for me? I told you I’d be here in time.” Jeremiah got up and crossed the room. He pulled Belly toward him for a hug.
“I told you, Michaels closes at nine. I doubt you would have made it in time,” she said, and she sounded pissed, but she let him kiss her.