It’s true, Liv woke something inside of me that sat dormant for a long time, and dammit, Idomiss her. I miss her smile, the way everything made her blush, her laugh, and the way the stars amazed her like she was seeing them for the first time.
When she was around, I saw my world through a different lens. I miss how she fit in my arms so perfectly, and I’m angry I didn’t get to have more of that with her before she left.
Josh snaps his fingers and points at me. “You know, I think I have an idea. I’ve read enough of Fran’s books to know that this requires some sort of grand gesture. Maybe you can deal with the review and have your grand gesture at the same time,” Josh says.
“Grand gesture?” I frown.
“Trust me.” He smiles.
Fifty-Three
RIP OFF THE BAND-AID
Liv
“Hey, Pop!” The door clicks shut behind me. My bag, with my mother’s death certificate, weighs heavily on my shoulder. I don’t know how I’ll broach this topic tonight, but I know I need to.
“Out here, Livie!” Pop calls from down the hall. I find him on the porch swing, watching the world drift by.
“Come sit,” he pats the bench beside him.
Setting my bag on the floor next to the swing, I take a seat beside him, looking out over the small backyard I grew up playing in.
Rip off the Band-Aid.“Pop, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Okay, but first I want you to tell me everything about your trip.” He throws his arm around me and tugs me into his side like I’m ten again.
So I do. I tell him about the sounds of nature, the beauty of the lake, the comfort of the town. I share that we made some friends, played trivia, and tried a paint and sip night. I tell him almost everything. Almost.
“Still terrible at art?” he asks.
“Exceptionally.”
I tell him how we helped Holly with the social media account for the house and how the little town isn’t thriving the way it used to, but hopefully, bit by bit, we can fix that. The whole time he nods and listens, hums, and raises his eyebrows.
“Sounds to me like you really enjoyed your time up there. I’m glad you could get away.” He squeezes my shoulder. “Okay then. Now tell me what you wanted to talk about.”
Steeling myself, I pull the envelope from my bag and silently hand it to him. His face crinkles, bushy eyebrows dipping in confusion as he lifts the arms of the gold fastener and slips the flap of the envelope open. I watch as his eyes scan the page, head nodding slowly, but he says nothing. The only sign he understands what he’s looking at is the moisture pooling in his eyes.
I twist my fingers together. The silence is oppressive.
When he’s finished, he folds the paper back in half, places it back into the envelope and hands it to me. I watch as he clasps his hands together, eyes fixed on his entwined fingers.
“Pop?” I reach out and rub his back. “Talk to me.” He clears his throat.
“I knew, Livie. I’ve known since it happened.”
It takes a moment for his words to land, and when they do, it feels like being slapped. I pull my hand back as if stung, and plant my feet on the ground halting the sway of the swing.
“What?” I tilt my head, leaning slightly toward him. I must have misheard.
“Gram and I… we found out when it happened.” He peers at me with those beautiful pale blue eyes I’ve always trusted. Until now. Now those eyes hold what appears to be the guilt of a confession that for years—years—he’s withheld this truth from me.
“And…” I shake my head, forehead strained from tension held between my eyes. “You didn’t think… it would be a good idea to tellme?” My voice is barely above a whisper as I hold on to any shred of composure I have left.
He shakes his head back and forth, fingers twisting together. “It just didn’t seem like it was the right thing to do. Gram and I talked about it. You were thriving, planning your business, your life. We didn’t want it to derail you, and we worried it might.”
Incredible.
