Syd hadn’t been a fan of Lily being with a townie at the beginning, so her words were surprising. And a bit uncharacteristic.
“Well, it wasn’t easy at first, remember?”
She waved a hand, as if Lily’s broken heart at having to break things off with Lucas had been a minor hiccup. In a way she was right.
But I’d shared a room with Lily when she’d cried herself to sleep. I’d seen—more so than Syd—how devastated our friend had been until she’d worked things out with Lucas.
And it had scared me.
At the time, I’d filed it away—with my mother’s perpetual desperateness—as two places I never wanted to end up.
I would not be the type of woman who was desperate to keep her man. So desperate she’d do anything. And I wouldneverfall apart over losing a guy the way Lily had.
I didn’t think less of Lil for it—I felt deeply for her. But I just knew that would never be me.
“But it was never because she didn’t trust her feelings, right? It was just shit that got in their way,” Syd said, still covering her face.
If I’d been more on my toes, I’d have been suspicious of Syd’s mood and the things she was saying. Normally I would have pushed and prodded, and gotten to what Syd wasreallysaying.
But I was distracted with her words as they applied to me.
And my feelings for Stick.
It was time to stop denying that I wanted him to kiss me, that I felt something for him. But I wouldn’t romanticize it and put it in a “Lily and Lucas” kind of love category either. Stick pushed my buttons, and I liked it. It was as simple as that.
And I very much liked when he kissed me—hard.
But that was all it could ever be—some stolen kisses, maybe a little more. Hopefully a little more.
I would never put myself in the position my mother had for all those years—begging for crumbs from a man. Or where Lily was now—helplessly in love.
“It’s just so hard, you know,” Syd said. I don’t know if she was talking about anything in particular, but I murmured my agreement.
We lay in silence for a bit more, then I got up to make my way back to my room.
At the door, I saw a beautiful scarf lying over Syd’s coat on the back of a chair. It was brightly colored and expensive looking, and did not at all look like something Syd would pick out. She was all about blending in, trying to look like the Bribury Basics. And this scarf stood out.
I bet it looked great on her, though, with her dark coloring.
“This new?” I asked, holding up the scarf.
She peeked out from under her arms and nodded. “Just got it.” She kept her arms down, propping herself up on her elbows, watching me as I held up the scarf. It wasn’t quite a paisley pattern, nor floral. It was really unique, like nothing I’d seen before. I did most of my shopping in thrift stores and consignment shops, loving older, funky, retro stuff. But I’d also had to tag along with my mother to enough high-end stores in Baltimore to know that this was quite a scarf. “It’s beautiful,” I said, meaning it. It wasn’t something I’d pick out, but I could certainly appreciate it.
“Thanks,” she said. Her eyes followed the scarf as I held it up to the light, then draped it back over her coat on the chair. I couldn’t quite read her expression—kind of pensive, like maybe she’d spent way too much money on it or something.
“Good thing you picked up a second job,” I said as I turned to leave.
“Yeah, good thing,” I heard her say quietly, more to herself, as I walked out of her side of the suite.
Chapter20
It became a standing thing.We’d meet in Lot H, Stick would be standing next to my car or sometimes sitting in it with the engine running if it was cold, I’d drive Yvette to Caroline’s house, where we’d spend a few hours, then we’d come back.
It moved from Tuesdays and Thursdays to almost every weekday. I started bringing my laptop and books and studying, either at the kitchen table with Caro nearby doing stuff on her laptop, or sometimes, if she was napping, I’d take my books to the garage and study while Stick worked on the cars.
Well, on those days, I mostly watched Stick as he moved with grace and skill around the fleet of vehicles. He was definitely in his element.
Some days, if he got particularly dirty, he’d go over to the guesthouse and shower before we left. He kept a few changes of clothes in the detached guesthouse. He said he’d even started spending a few nights a week there, just in case Caro needed him. The plan was that he’d eventually move in if—when—the time came.
