Will nods. There’s a stillness to his body she’s never noticed before, a palpable calm. “Now,” he says.
Lilly glances over her shoulder in the direction of her parents’ house, hears an owl hooting somewhere in the distance. Looks back at Will and nods.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Will
“Okay,” she says twenty minutes later, laughing at him over the bowl of her wineglass, “that’s not real.” She’s perched on his kitchen counter in ripped jeans and a tank top, the heels of her bare feet bumping lightly against the cabinet doors. “I refuse to believe that even you would—”
“The ad said they needed an actor!” Will defends himself, arm brushing hers as he reaches for the bottle. “Technically, I was acting.”
Lilly snorts. “Standing outside a tax place dressed as the Statue of Liberty is not acting.”
“Says you, maybe.” Will grins, ducking his head a little. “Anyway, that was how I learned that one cannot circumvent the need for an agent by booking one’s own jobs on Craigslist dot org.”
“A real coming-of-age moment for you.” Lilly’s lips twist.
“Basically the plot of ‘Don’t Stop Believin’,’ yes.”
“Is that your karaoke song?”
“Uh, sure is not.” Will snorts. “I’d rather shave off both my eyebrows than sing karaoke.”
“Oh, right,” Lilly says, nodding seriously. “Sorry, I forgot for a second how terminally opposed to a good time you are.”
“I’m not opposed to a good time,” Will protests, leaning backagainst the island with his ankles crossed. “I just, as a general rule, prefer to humiliate myself accidentally instead of on purpose.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
“I mean, nobody’s going to accuse me of not being committed to the bit.” He lifts an eyebrow. “What’s yours?” he asks, lifting his chin in her direction. “Your karaoke song, I mean.”
Lilly doesn’t hesitate. “‘Scenes from an Italian Restaurant.’”
Will laughs, then realizes she’s serious. “Wait, really?” he asks. “That song is, like, twelve minutes long.”
“Seven and a half,” Lilly corrects him. “It’s actually my favorite song of all time, period. My mom used to sing it to us all the time when we were kids.”
“That... tracks,” Will says, then catches himself, remembering what happened at the movie premiere: the angry flash of her expression, the stubborn set of her jaw. “I just mean—”
Lilly cuts him off. “Fuck you,” she says, but there’s no heat behind it. “I know everybody thinks my mother is warped, and, like, fine, she is, but she was a good mom when we were kids.”
Will nods. “I can see that,” he says, and he’s surprised to discover he actually means it. “I bet she was fun.”
“She was.” Lilly shakes her head. “Anyway. That song always makes me want to cry a little bit, honestly, even though it’s not actually sad. Or maybe it is a sad song, and people just don’t realize that because it’s so fast? I don’t know.”
Will thinks about it for a minute, trying to remember the words. “‘Brenda and Eddie would always know how to survive’?”
“Exactly.” Lilly’s smile is slow and luminous. “Equal parts delusion and grit, that’s what I always say.”
He’s not sure who she’s talking about, the people in the song or her own mother, but either way Will nods. “She must have donesomething right,” he says. “Your mom, I mean. Look how close you and your sisters are. How much you all—” He breaks off, gesturing vaguely. “You know.”
Lilly makes a face. “Are obsessed with each other?” she supplies.
“I’m serious!” Will defends himself. “I do actually think it’s nice, the way you guys are. It’s not like that with Georgia and me. It never has been.”
“You don’t keep each other company while you pee?”
“Only on special occasions.” Will shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just... not a very good brother, I guess.”
