“Dang,” she mutters with a grin. “Was hoping you’d forget that.” She nudges my arm playfully. “Just think about it.”
I offer a noncommittal smile, but we both know I won’t. Not really. It would be too painful. Too much. Being in the same town as Liam and pretending like he didn’t still live under myskin. Seeing him in the grocery store. At Will’s bar. Passing him on the road, knowing I couldn’t reach for him. Not anymore.
And what would I do when he started dating again?
The thought makes my stomach twist.
I ask before I can stop myself. “Is he… is he seeing anyone?”
Phern shakes her head. “No. He made a big show at Sam’s wedding, acting like he was into Charlie’s friend, Tish, but we all saw right through it. Poor girl didn’t even know he was using her as a shield.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
“It’s only a matter of time before he moves on,” I say softly, more to myself than her.
“Maybe,” Phern says. “But you haven’t seen him recently. That man is tore up, Olive. He walks around like his boots are full of lead. He’s barely speaking to anyone. He’s heartbroken even if he’s too stubborn to do anything about it.”
The rest of the drive is quiet after that.
When we pull up to my parents’ house, Mom’s already waving at us from the porch. I lead Phern inside, and the second the front door shuts, my mom grins.
“Nice to meet you, Phern,” she says with a warm smile. “Now show me my grandbabies.”
I laugh, setting my bag down and reaching for the scrapbook. “Yes, ma’am.”
We gather around the dining table as I flip to the latest page. The newest ultrasound photos tucked into the corners with care, little captions written in pen.
Mom traces the image of Baby A with gentle fingers. “Look at that,” she murmurs. “She has your profile, Olive. Just like you did at that size.”
“You’re having girls?” Phern asks, her voice soft with wonder.
“Just a feeling,” I say, resting my hand on my stomach. “They feel like girls.”
My mom nods, proud and certain. “Twin girls run in the family.”
My chest tightens with the warmth of it. This moment, these women, this feeling of belonging.
But a piece of me still aches. Still misses the one person who should be sitting here with us, grinning like an idiot and making name suggestions I’d roll my eyes at. And I wonder just for a second if he’s somewhere, holding that same ache.
Dad gets home a bit later, his boots clunking on the porch just like they always have. The second he steps inside, I hold up the scrapbook. He doesn’t even take his coat off. And we all do it again, oohing and aahing over the twins, laughing about how alike they already look, comparing noses and chins and their little fists. It’s the kind of evening I didn’t know I needed until I was in the middle of it.
By the time dinner rolls around, my cheeks ache from smiling. My ribs feel looser. My heart lighter.
As Mom starts pulling dishes from the oven, she says over her shoulder, “Olive, why don’t you take Phern to your room so she can freshen up before dinner?”
I nod, waving Phern along as I head down the hall.
“I should warn you,” I say. “This room is frozen in time.”
I open the door and step inside, immediately hit with the scent of old candles, forgotten perfume, and the dust of memories. Nothing’s changed. The same twin beds sit on either side of the room, one with a faded purple comforter, the other covered in Opal’s old denim quilt. The walls are still plastered with posters, magazine clippings, and a corkboard full of photos.
Phern stops just inside the doorway and slowly turns, surveying everything.
Then she smirks. “Wow.One Direction. Why am I not surprised?”
I point to the opposite wall with mock indignation. “That’s Opal’s side of the room.”
Phern raises an eyebrow and points to a corner near my dresser. “I’m not going to mention that there’s aOne Directionposter over there, too.”
