She took out her phone and pulled up a picture of them together—ridiculous hair, both with wide smiles and hugging.
“Wow, you really do look similar.” Our fingers brushed as I took the phone, electricity zipping through me. I tried to ignore it, but stored it somewhere in my mind.
“I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a cloudy day, but I still got sunburned. Then she forgot me in the parking lot after I ran errands for an hour,” Hazel laughed deliciously, but I froze in my seat. Hazel noticed.
“It’s okay. By then, I already knew her condition. I didn’t hold it against her. Knowledge always helped.”
But that was what gutted me. That something like that happened to her, and she didn’t mind. She’d rationalized something that should’ve hurt. She managed to explain to her brain something that her heart was feeling, and suddenly, the heart wasn’t angry anymore. I wanted her tobeangry. I wanted to be angry for her. She didn’t deserve this. Not her mother dying, not her father avoiding it. Avoiding her.
I felt my muscles tense up, and a bubble stuck in my throat. Hazel placed her hand on mine, not to lighten her own load but to try to ease the weight sitting on my chest.
“It’s okay. Really.” I held her gaze. “It’s my favorite one hanging on the wall.”
She glanced at the picture again, and I noticed the small wrinkles on her cheeks. Probably from the constant smiling. How was she so... Kind? Beautiful? Functioning? I didn’t have the word, even though she was all those things.
“Mady has done this with me ever since she died.”
“She sounds like a good friend.”
Hazel nodded. “She is.”
“So, have you figured out your best and worst thing for this year?” I asked. Her lips curled slightly, her eyes saying things her mouth didn’t.
“I have some idea.” Somewhere deep in my chest, something pulled at my heartstrings. A selfish hope. That maybethis—this trip, these people—was her good thing this year. Maybe I was one of these people.
Meanwhile, the waiter arrived to collect our dishes that Hazel had already arranged neatly together, making it easier for him to collect them, I was sure. All the plates stacked accurately by their sizes, one on the other, forks together, prongs facing the same direction, cups with their handles pushed together.
“Podia trazer a conta, por favor?” Hazel said with perfect pronunciation.
“Claro,” the waiter replied and went off. I assumed for the check. Hazel pulled out her wallet.
“I got it.”
Hazel looked at me, contemplating. She rubbed her palms under the table, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that I wouldn’t let her spend her money. But I didn’t give her a chance to fight me. “Another company perk.”Liar, liar, pants on fire.
She needed it for herself. Her health. For more EpiPens? An uneasy feeling ran through my bones.
“Luke M. Davis,” she repeated the words written on my leather wallet, as I tossed it on the table.
“A gift from my father.”
“What does the M stand for?” Hazel asked, as I knew she would.
“Miles.” The corners of her lips raised. I never used the name, but seeing her smile, it somehow seemed worth having it.
“It suits you.”
“Not really,” I laughed.
“Really.” Her voice was so soft, sosure, I had no choice but to believe her.
“Do you have one?” I asked.
“What? A middle name? No, but my mom almost named me Daphne before choosing Hazel.”
“Hmm,” I smirked to myself. “Daphne, the librarian.” The sound of that amused me. We shared a look before her gaze wandered again. She had done that at least four times in the last half hour. I turned and instantly connected the dots.
“Are you a good teacher?” I asked, nodding toward the old piano in the corner. Hazel raised an eyebrow.
