Lucy laughs through breathy sobs, squeezing me tighter. After a moment of silence and intense sisterly hugging, we break apart.
Lucy’s bangs are disheveled, so I play with them until they sit on her face nicely. “You’re going to be okay, you know?”
“I might be okay. But I’m not sure I’m going to be well. I’ve never lived alone before.”
I take her hand in mine and look into her watery, hazel eyes. “You’re self-sufficient and a beautiful, capable woman. What fears do you have?”
She looks away from me. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to keep up with rent, electricity, and water. Not to mention wifi and other bills. I’m afraid I won’t be able to afford food and gas. I’m worried that I will lose contact with you and Karoline. Hadley is here, but she’s married. I’ll have to hang out with Emma Jane more.”
After a beat, I open my mouth to respond, but she begins again. “I’m scared of becoming a lonely cat lady for the rest of my life.”We both glance at Frannie and Frizzle as they laze about in the streaming sunlight.
“Those are valid fears,” I say, folding my hands in my lap. “I had goals of being a plant and cat mom for a while. I don’t think it’s a bad thing. But I know it’s not what you desire. And to that, well, Lucy, you can’t control the will of God. Please remember that. Don’t jump the gun with anything. Take this time to be alone. To learn to be content with it even though I know it is an affliction on your soul. Grow closer to the Lord and find yourself. Write your stories and figure out this life. We are twenty-six. You are not behind in life, Lucy. Do you believe me?”
“No,” she says immediately. I grimace, but she turns a soft smile to me. “But I can promise to try.”
The response doesn’t calm me much, but I have to accept that Lucy is not mine to manage, and she has to figure things out herself. I will pray for her, reach out consistently to her, and support her as I can.
“May I ease part of your fears?” I ask. This is the right moment to bring up an idea Finley and I discussed earlier in the week.
Lucy nods, questions in her eyes.
“Finley and I would like to pay the rent and utilities on the apartment. It’s not because we don’t think you are capable, because we do, but it was quite sudden of me to up and leave you. We didn’t give you much time to save or arrange other accommodations, so please don’t take this as a handout but as a severance package.”
Her eyes widen as her jaw drops. “Are you for real?”
I nod with finality. “And if you try not to accept, Finley is prepared to promote your books.”
She narrows her eyes and scowls. “Fine. But only because I want to build my authordom myself. That is sacred to me.”
I grin, and Lucy finally relents, smiling back at me.
“You’re kinda the best twin ever, you know?” Lucy jumps on me, throwing us both backwards, falling deeper into the couch.
“How can I be the best when you are?” I respond. We both laugh until our cats decide to pounce, sinking claws into our skin in the name of playtime.
“I’m going to miss this.” And right as the words leave my mouth, my laughs turn to a tearful, mourning sound. This change hurts, but I also know that what awaits me across the pond is a lifetime of joy, love, and intellectual stimulation. I mean, I will be governing a country, after all. What better use of my law training, historical facts, and philosophy obsession.
The thought stirs giddiness in me, and my tears quickly dry up. Lucy and I spend the rest of the afternoon finishing packing, cleaning (I won’t leave her with a dirty apartment), and randomly crying when we think of memories we’ve shared together over our twenty-six years.
I won’t lie and say I’m not worried about my twin. I make a mental note to talk to Hadley and Emma Jane. I won’t share Lucy’s fears and worries, but I do want to make sure I have people in place to check in on her. Grandma Netty will look after her, but she’s getting old and has been struggling the past few weeks. But maybe Lucy can look after her, which will help my sister retain a sense of responsibility and feeling needed. So many things to consider,so while I dress for my date with Finley tonight, our last one in Mississippi for the foreseeable future, I take my concerns to the Lord and place my trust in Him to take care of my sister in my physical absence.
“It’s time we redeem this location.” Finley’s fingers brush the backside of my arm as he guides me down the stone path that leads to Club Paris, the French restaurant I met him at once upon a time when he believed he was meeting up with my twin for their first date.
As his feather-light touches continue to simultaneously send gooseflesh up my arms and warmth to my cheeks, I’m enamored with the thought that I may never get used to the glorious feeling of being touched by this man.
I hope I don’t.
My eyes take in every ounce of him once we get to the door, lit only by two incandescent lights. He’s wearing a white collared shirt with three buttons, the top one unbuttoned, tucked into navy pants. Light brown dress shoes round off his classic, easy appearance. Unwillingly tearing my eyes from him, I glance down at my navy ponte cap-sleeve dress with a thin, gold belt accentuating my waistline. Lucy outfitted me with simple, small gold hoops that don’t hit my neck when I walk, matching gold sneakers that mirror my white ones, just nicer, and styled my hair into bighollywood-style waves. I did require pulling the mass of red hair into a ponytail, but she said as long as it was a high ponytail, it would be sufficient.
I obliged. And I’m pretty sure it rivals Ariana Grande’s.
“What’s there to redeem? I thought that first date went okay.” I swim in my memories, remembering how horribly I impersonated my sister, and I grimace. “Other than my terrible acting skills, which was odd considering I’m a great masker.”
“The Lord must have known you needed to be yourself.” He grins a dazzling smile at me as he leads me through the double golden doors of the restaurant. I’m hit with the smell of fresh bread, pasta, and a variety of spices begging to let me taste them. The restaurant still looks the same as last time with one exception: we are the only ones here outside of staff.
Bewildered, I look up at my boyfriend. (And no. I will never tire of calling him that.) “Did you…”
“Rent the place out?” Finley finishes. “Yep. We can have our last date in Mississippi in peace. You don’t have to worry about getting overstimulated by a bunch of chattering people, and I get you all to myself.” He winks, and a nervous energy stirs within my stomach at his statement. A good kind of nervous. The kind that only my man seems to be able to awaken within me. I’m not at all phased that he’s spending money like this on me. He’s a prince. What else would he do?
