I run my hand over her back for a while, and then I stroke my fingers through her hair, wondering how in the world she can make me feel so whole when I had no idea I was only half of myself without her.
Of course I’ve missed her all these years, and if I could have snapped my fingers and brought her back into my life, I would have in a heartbeat. But we had built lives without each other, her with Ryle and me with my career, and I assumed that was our fate. I had grown used to not living life with her. But now that she’s back, I don’t know that I could ever feel whole again without her. Especially after tonight.
“Lily,” I whisper.
She doesn’t respond. I pull back a little and can see that her eyes are closed, and her arm has gone limp around me. I’m scared if I move, I’ll wake her up. But I told Josh I’d only be a couple of hours later than the time I initially gave him, and I’m at three hours now. I’m not even sure I’m allowed to leave twelve-year-olds by themselves.
Brad was okay with it when I asked if they were fine by themselves, and if he doesn’t even allow Theo to have a phone, I doubt he’d let me leave them alone while I went on a date unless Brad has left Theo alone before.
Maybe I should google what the age limit is in Boston for a kid to stay by themselves.
I’m overthinking this. Of course, they’re fine. Neither of them has called or texted with any kind of emergency, and twelve-year-olds even babysit other kids sometimes.
I think I’m fine, but I still need to get home. I don’t know Josh well enough yet to be convinced he isn’t throwing a rager in my house right now. I slowly remove my arm from beneath Lily’s head and ease out of her bed. I dress as quietly as I can, and then I go in search of a pen and paper. I don’t want to wake her up, but I don’t want to leave without saying anything. Especially after the night we had.
I find a notebook and a pen in her kitchen drawer, so I sit at the table to write her a letter. When I finish, I take it back to her bedroom and I set the note on the pillow next to her. Then I kiss her goodnight.
Chapter Twenty-Four Lily
There’s a pounding in my head.
And outside my head.
I lift my face off my pillow and feel drool on my chin. I wipe it away with the corner of my pillowcase. I sit up and see that Atlas left a note beside me. I grab for it, but then hear the knock again, so I tuck the note under my pillow for later and force myself to clear space in my foggy brain to make room for what’s happening in this moment.
Emmy is at my mother’s.
I just had the best night of sleep I’ve had in two years.
Someone is at my door.
I reach for my phone on my nightstand and try to focus on the screen. I have several missed calls from Ryle, which makes me concerned something is wrong. But the only thing I have from my mother is a picture of Emmy eating breakfast from half an hour ago.
Phew. Emmy is okay. I immediately relax, but knowing Ryle is probably the one knocking on my door doesn’t allow for much relaxation.
“Hold on!” I yell.
I throw on something quick—a T-shirt and jeans—and then I open the door to let him in. He moves past me, into the apartment, without being invited in. “Is everything okay?” He looks panicked, but also relieved to see that I’m alive.
“I was asleep. Everything is fine.” He can tell I’m annoyed. He glances around the room for Emmy. “She spent the night at my mother’s.”
“Oh.” He’s disappointed. “I tried calling because I wanted to pick her up for a few hours. You weren’t answering your phone, and you’re always awake by now…” Ryle’s voice trails off when he sees the couch. I don’t have to look at the couch to know what he’s staring at. My T-shirt and panties are still tossed haphazardly over the back of it, I’m sure.
“Let me call my mother and let her know you’re coming.” I go get my phone from my room, hoping Ryle isn’t about to question me. He’s ruining the good mood Atlas left me in last night.
When I walk back into the living room, I pause while searching for my mother’s contact on my phone. Ryle is holding a wineglass in his hand, inspecting it. It’s the one Atlas drank from. Mine is on the counter next to it—a clear indication that someone was here with me drinking wine last night.
Before my underwear got removed and left on the couch.
I can see Ryle’s jealousy bubbling over when he sets down the wineglass and looks straight at me. “Did someone stay the night?”
I don’t bother denying it. I’m an adult. A single adult. Well, possibly not single anymore, but that’s another matter. “We’re divorced, Ryle. You can’t ask me questions like that.”