“I’m sure there’s an explanation,” I hear myself say.
“I’m sure there is.” Penelope’s voice drips with something that sounds like pity. “There’s always an explanation. That’s what men like Levi do. They explain. They apologize. They promiseit won’t happen again.” She pauses, lets the words sink in. “Until it does.”
“You don’t know him.”
“Maybe not. But I know you.” Her eyes sharpen. “I know what you told me that night. That you were leaving because you were holding him back. That he’d never make it if you stayed.” She gestures at the photo. “Well, you were right. He made it. And look at him now, pop stars throwing themselves at him. Private jets. A life you can’t even imagine.” She smiles. “Do you really think he’s going to give all that up for a florist in a small town?”
My throat is tight. I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong. But the photo is right there, and Levi didn’t tell me about it, and everything she’s saying sounds exactly like the voice in my own head.
The voice that says I don’t deserve this. That good things don’t last. That I’ll ruin it eventually, so why not just accept the inevitable?
“Why are you really here?” I ask.
Penelope’s expression flickers. Just for a second, something sharp underneath the sympathy. Then the mask slides back into place.
“Because I hate watching train wrecks in slow motion. You’re going to leave again, we both know it. You always do.” She drops the phone into her purse. “I’m not the villain here, Delilah. I’m just the one willing to tell you the truth before you waste any more of his time.”
“The truth according to you.”
“The truth according to that photograph.” She turns toward the door, then pauses. Looks back at me over her shoulder. “You told me yourself why you left. You didn’t think you were good enough. And now he’s famous and you’re…here.” A small, pitying smile. “Maybe you were right.”
She walks out. The bell chimes behind her, two notes, high then low, sounding nothing like magic.
I stand there, frozen.
Ruffy whines and presses his head against my leg.
I don’t move.
I closeup the shop on autopilot, lock the door, turn off the lights. I should call him. Ask him about it. Give him a chance to explain.
But what if there’s nothing to explain? What if this is exactly what it looks like?
I pick up my phone. Put it down. Pick itup again.
There’s a text from Jo:Wedding cake tasting tomorrow! Don’t forget!
A text from Mom:Bridge club tonight. Dinner’s in the oven. Home by 8?
Nothing from Levi since the Lucky Susan conversation.
I stare at the photo again, at Mia Monroe’s perfect face and her arms around him, at his hand on her back.
She’s a pop princess. She probably smells like expensive perfume and doesn’t drive a car with a mysterious smell.
What am I even doing?
I grab Ruffy’s leash and head home.
Mom’s not there when I get back. Bridge club, just like she texted.
Good. I don’t want to explain why I look like someone just ripped my heart out and showed it to me.
I sit at the kitchen table with my phone in front of me, open to a gossip website. Ruffy lies at my feet, watching me with worried eyes.
“It’s fine,” I tell him.
He doesn’t look convinced.
