“Stupid question, man.”
I sigh, taking a bunch of flowers from the plastic pot and burying into the hole I dug. “So she’s one of your best friends,” I say, accepting.
“Are you jealous?”
“Stop it,” I groan, and fill the hole with dirt. “I just want to know if she was taken care of.”
“Another stupid question on your end.”
“When did you become such a dick?”
“Always have been.” Julian is a tattooed grump with sunshine personified as his daughter.
“Thank you,” I mutter. “For being with her when she needed someone.”
“Of course,” he says. “But it should have been you here with her instead.”
Yeah…
Grace is refusing to leave Lana’s hip, crying and wailing, “Auntie Lana!”
Lana frowns, her eyes glossy. “I know, baby Gracie. I love you! I’ll go see you tomorrow, I promise.”
Julian hugs Lana and walks away, holding and consoling his crying daughter as he sets her in the car seat. Lana waves as they pull out of the driveway. I hide before she turns from the door and goes toward the quiet living room.
I made her a garden and now I’m scared to show her. I look like a disaster, covered in dirt, but it’s worth the mess if she glows when she sees it. I take a breath and go into the opening beneath the stairs to the living room. She’s in her cozy, yellow loveseat with her nose in a book.
Sometimes I like just watching her exist. In our old apartment, Lana would be moving around, humming while she cooked or sitting on the couch reading—I could never look away. When she reads she gets lost somewhere, and when she read aloud with my head on her chest, I’d get lost with her. She was there and perfect and alive, just like she is now.
She might be this beautiful, bright sunflower, but I think she might actually be the sun and I’m the sunflower. I’m the thing searching for her light and following every and any direction she goes in.
“Lana?” I rasp.
Lana looks up from the book. “Yeah?”
“Can you come with me?” I ask. “Please?”
She places a bookmark and closes the book she’s readingbefore getting up from the couch. Her brows furrow when she looks up at me through her lashes and asks, “Where?”
“Just come with me?—”
Then she looks down with a gasp and I know I’m in trouble. “Christian you’re getting dirt on my floor!”
I chuckle. “I’ll clean it, I promise. Just come please.”
Lana growls quietly. “Fine, but youbetterclean it.”
“I will, I promise.” I smile and take her hand, pulling her out of the living room. Back in front of the back door, I stop. “Close your eyes.”
“Christian—”
I stand behind her and put my hands over her eyes. “Just follow my lead, okay?”
Lana nods and I feel the apples of her cheeks lift. She’s smiling and I wish I could see those dimples, but I know them in my mind from memory. You don’t forget Lana’s dimples.
I keep one hand over her eyes and slide open the door with my other. When we are finally on the patio with a wide view of the back yard, I say, “Can you pretend Julian didn’t ruin it?”
Lana chuckles. “Ruin what?”
