I had heard of amicable divorces . . . or at least, cases of parents who could get along in each other’s company. Couldn’t picture Brad and Dylan and me sitting down for a pleasant dinner, but . . .
“I passed a BMW stuck on the road back there,” he said. “You got company?”
“Yes, I do. I’m having a sleepover. Melissa Fairchild and her niece. Ophelia ran away and came here, and Melissa drove over to check on her, got stuck and walked the rest of the way.”
“That’s a good mile back.”
“Eesh. Well, with the weather being so dangerous, and her being great with child, I invited them to stay.”
He raised his eyebrow. “Very generous of you.”
“Thanks. I know. I’m a saint.”
He smiled. “You’re not bad, I’ll give you that.”
“Oh, and I found out who my father’s girlfriend is,” I said.
“Really?”
“Brace yourself. It’s my mother.”
“Holy shit,” he said. “Are you sure?”
“I caught them in the act, Ben.”
His face contorted. “Oh, man. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you for your much-needed sympathy. It was horrible. Hannah is especially traumatized.”
“I can imagine.”
I looked at him, snow falling on his shaggy hair. The clouds were faintly pink, and the quiet wrapped us like a secret. I wanted to say something profound, or . . . something, just to make this moment last.
“I’m gonna go to bed, Ben.” Dang it. Not what I meant to say.
“Yeah. Quite a day for you.”
“Understatement of the year.”
“Well. Sleep tight.”
I didn’t move. “You can kiss me if you want.” There. That’s what I wanted to say.
He gave that wonderful, smoky laugh, and pulled me close and kissed me, long and slow and warm. “Good night, Lillie. Love your pajamas.”
I looked down. Cartoon sharks carrying human legs in their mouths. “Limited edition,” I said. “Just like me.”
I was smiling as I got into bed and hugged Zeus tight. Weird, to feel so happy after one of the strangest days of my life, but here I was. I’d done the right thing tonight. By Hannah, by Ophelia, by Melissa. And Ben was out there, willing to kiss me.
It was a good feeling.
CHAPTER 31
Melissa
Lillie had made them oatmeal with dried fruit and cream for breakfast. Of course she had.
Melissa was exhausted . . . sleeping on a strange mattress, her brain still buzzing with all the things that could’ve happened to Ophelia. Hit by a car on Route 6! Twisted her ankle and fallen in the snow. Taken by some pervert and . . . But she was safe, thank heavens.
Typical, that she’d come to Lillie. Everyone loved Lillie. The fact that Ophelia even knew what Lillie looked like, let alone where she lived, was a shock. The house was nothing like Bradley had described—crowded, dark, poorly laid out. It was adorable. Homey. All the photos of Dylan and Lillie’s father, her sister, her friends. All the strange little touches. The collection of Portuguese chickens lined up on the windowsill in the bathroom. The sturdy, colorful plates on the kitchen shelves. A framed piece of artwork from Dylan’s school days. His little handprint preserved in clay, hanging in the kitchen.
Totally not Melissa’s style, but not ugly, either. She’d pictured Lillie’s house as dirtier, less . . . lovely. It was the epitome of the type of home Melissa herself had wanted to grow up in, the smell of baked goods and coffee in the air, rather than cigarettes and cheap beer. She found herself strangely choked up when, upon awakening, she’d noticed a little slip of paper taped next to Dylan’s bed. Mommy loves you! it said, and she could tell it had been there a long, long time. Imagine that. Imagine an eighteen-year-old boy keeping a little note from his mother.
Is that what she’d have to do for hers? As if in answer, the baby rolled and kicked, and she grunted a little, putting her hand on her stomach.
“Baby kicking?” Lillie asked, her voice mild.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Always a good sign. Finish your breakfast, and try to get enough rest today. You probably overdid it last night, slogging through the snow.”
“It was beautiful, though.” Melissa stopped, blushing. It felt weird to be chatting with her, the woman whose husband Melissa had seduced and married so easily.
“It is pretty out here.” Lillie didn’t seem to be that angry.
Ophelia had left the table, allegedly to gather up Teeny, but she was throwing a ball upstairs, laughing as both dogs barked and played. The child had come somewhere safe yesterday. At least there was that.