I don’t know what, or who, I want.
I am a mess of utter, swirling confusion.
At this point, I honestly don’t know if I want my old memories back or if I wish they’d stay gone forever.
As I look around the table, at the laughing and friendly faces of my friends, I’m beginning to realize that my life is pretty good right now. I might not know what I want, but I’m pretty sure that I don’t want anything to change.
At all.
And I know that my memories have the potential to change everything.
Chapter Fourteen
My bedroom has a private balcony. I think all of the bedrooms here at Giliberti House do. I’m sitting on mine tonight, alone, under the dark sky filled with twinkling stars. The night air is cool and it brushes over my skin softly, like tropical velvet fingers.
And I’m feeling nostalgic and poetic.
I don’t know why.
There is a book lying open in my lap. It feels good to lose myself in someone else’s world tonight, someone else’s fictional drama. Because my own drama is too real and raw.
There is a knock on my bedroom door, soft and light. And before I can call out, the door opens and Reece is there. She’s wearing pajamas and holding a small box.
“I brought you something,” she announces as she crosses my room and joins me on the balcony. “You love these. They’re good for anything that ails you. You bought them for me when I was here this summer.”
She thrusts the box into my hands and I peer inside.
Tiny chocolate volcanoes sit amidst tissue.
I raise an eyebrow.
“Chocolate therapy?”
“Is there a better kind?” she tosses back.
“Excellent point,” I answer. I pop one into my mouth and then I almost melt into my seat. “Oh my gosh. Yummo.”
Reece looks satisfied. “Right? I braved the scary gypsy lady for you. That’s how much I love you.”
“Scary gypsy lady?” This intrigues me. Reece sighs.
“The woman in town who sells these is terrifying,” she tells me. “You laugh about her, but she’s got these cloudy eyes that see right through a person. And she always mutters vague things about people, as if she can see our future. Last time I was here, she told me that I was strong enough to handle anything. It was like she knew what was going on in my life. It was creepy.”
“Were you?” I ask. “Strong enough?”
Reece looks at me, gorgeous in her blonde, girl-next-door way. She finally nods.
“Yes. I was. And I am. It’s something I learned while I was here. Everyone is strong enough. Sometimes, they just don’t know it. You’re strong enough too.”
“You’re very profound, you know that?” I nudge her jokingly. But honestly, I’m not joking. Reece has given me some pretty good advice so far.
I look at her. “So, I guess my best friend is a sage, then.”
She laughs. “I don’t know about that. But you’ve never steered me wrong, either, so I guess we’re good for each other.”
I offer her a chocolate.
“Thank you for being my friend,” I tell her sincerely. “Thank you for sticking with me even when I don’t remember how good of a friend you actually are.”
Reece looks at me like I’ve suddenly grown two heads.
“Seriously? That’s what friends do. You would do the same for me.”
I honestly hope that is true, that I’m a good enough person for that.
We lean back onto our chairs and stare at the stars. Reece wraps her sweater more tightly around her and then pulls something from her pocket.
“I almost forgot,” she tells me. She hands it to me.
A picture in a silver frame.
It’s Dante, Gavin and me, and we’re standing in front of the sea. Sunshine bathes our bare shoulders and we’re wearing swimsuits. I have blue and green stripes in my dark hair, an interesting, peacock-like combination. It’s clear that we are having a good time because we’re all laughing. It’s a candid shot, not posed. Gavin’s eyes are twinkling and he’s bending toward me. Dante is laughing at us.
And I wish I could remember the joke.
But I don’t.
Reece watches me and I feel my lips curve into a smile, simply from the happy expression on my face in the picture.
It makes me feel warm inside.
“Dante had this, so I had a copy made for you and framed. It was from a beach party this past summer. I love it. In fact, I love it so much that I had a copy made for me, too.”
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely. “Very much. It’s like you’ve handed me a piece of my life, like I have a glimpse of who I was through this picture. I love it.”
Tears well up in my eyes and I don’t know why. I wipe at them impatiently.
Reece looks at me sympathetically.
“It’s okay to be upset,” she tells me. “Anyone would be. And you’re handling it so much better than most people would. Cut yourself some slack, Mi.”
And her words make me cry.
It’s like the barrier that I’ve built around myself lately crumbles down and I gulp at the air, sucking at it like a fish on a sidewalk as I heave in wracking sobs.
At first Reece is shocked, then she grabs me and pulls me to her. She pats my back and murmurs soothingly to me as I cry. And surprisingly, it feels good. When I’m finally finished and I’m lying in Reece’s lap, I feel cleansed. It’s like my tears washed my anxiety away.
At least, temporarily.
And I decide that if Gavin was right and I never cry, I might change that. A good cry every once in a while might be a good thing. A cleansing thing.
But I do feel bad for falling apart on Reece.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I didn’t mean to fall apart on you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve fallen apart on you? Trust me, I owe you a few breakdowns.”
I smile and nod like I know, even though we both know that I don’t.
“You know what you need?” Reece asks. “You need some ice cream. With fudge and marshmallows. And then a bubble bath. Come on.”
I follow her from my bedroom, down the stairs and into the kitchen. There’s a soft nightlight shining in there, like a golden beacon. I love this kitchen. It’s warm and cozy, definitely a room where a family thrives. I don’t know why I’m drawn to it like I am. But it practically feels like the pulse of this large house beats from this room.
Reece pulls things from the cupboard and drags a couple kinds of ice cream from a large freezer.
We make two of the biggest ice cream sundaes in the history of the world and then make our way out to the terrace. We eat our ice cream curled up on elaborate wrought iron chairs and surrounded by fragrant flowers.
“I love it here,” Reece tells me with a sigh. “Everything is so beautiful. I’m going to lobby hard to finish our senior year here. We’re needed here anyway.”
I look at her, at my friend who seems to have such a big heart. She’s innocently licking her spoon when I hear a deep voice from behind me.
Quinn.
“Is this a party and I wasn’t invited?”
He asks this as he saunters into the gardens. I think he saunters everywhere. There’s simply no other way to describe the way he moves. It’s fluid and confident.
And sexy.
“Nope,” Reece tells him. “But I guess it is now. Isn’t it always a party when you’re around?” She grins at him and their manner is relaxed and easy, like two people who have grown up together, because that’s exactly who they are. They both have the same charming American accent and the same friendly way about them.
“It’s so strange that you guys didn’t end up together,” I tell them. Reece looks over at me, startled, while Quinn laughs.
“Did you hear that, Reecie? I told you that we were perfect together.”
He’s kidding though and it is apparent. They are relaxed and friendly, but there is no sexual chemistry between them at and it’s hard to imagine that there ever was. Quinn nudges her shoulder, but he sits in the chair next to me. Something inside of me is happy about that, satisfied. I can smell him on the breeze, an outdoorsy man smell. I like it.
Reece rolls her eyes.
“I can’t date Quinn,” she tells me. “Because we know everything about each other. For example, I know that he passed out when he was giving blood last year.” She laughs again and Quinn glowers at her.
“For the last time,” he tells her. “The doctor said that there was a real medical reason for that—a vaso-vagal nerve reflex or something.”
Reece giggles. “Whatever, little kittie,” she laughs. “Meow!”
I’m staring at her, wondering why the heck my seemingly sane friend is meowing at Quinn when she catches a glimpse of my face and laughs harder.
“It’s a nice way of calling him a pussy…cat.” She tacks the last word on as an afterthought. And then I have to laugh. Because the P-word coming out of sweet little Reece’s mouth in any context just doesn’t seem right.
And then I meow at Quinn too, just because it is funny to associate him with the P-word in any way, shape or form.
So that is how Dante finds us a few minutes later.
Reece and I are leaned together, meowing at big, strong Quinn under the light of the moon. We look like lunatics, I’m sure. And we most certainly sound like it. But I don’t even care. I grin up at Dante.
“Hey, D,” I smile.
Dante smiles back, then startles.
“D?”
I look at him for a second, startled too, before I shrug. “It’s probably because I heard Elena call you that earlier.”
I’m not sure, though. It could be a memory. I have no idea. But I’m distracted by listening to Reece complain about how Elena apparently calls Dante “D” just to annoy her now, and then by listening to her lecture Quinn on the fact that he needs to stay far, far away from Elena because she is a mean witch who would probably eat kittens for breakfast if she could, raw and with the fur still on.
They both listen to her patiently.
And then patiently ignore her.
Apparently, they’re accustomed to her funny little outbursts.
Dante wraps an arm around Reece’s shoulders and turns to me.
“Mia, are you settling in all right? Is your room okay?”
I nod. “I love my room and the balcony. Thank you so much for letting us stay here.”
Dante waves his hand. “I’m glad you’re here. It’s like a party. Well, it would be if Gavin were here, too.”
Gavin.
Immediately, thoughts of him flood my mind and I feel guilty for sitting here with Quinn and I don’t know why. Neither of them belong to me. And I don’t answer to either of them. Yet whenever I’m with one, I feel guilty about the other. I sigh. My life is complicated.
Dante is tugging at Reece. “I think it’s time for bed,” he tells her. “We’ve had a long day and you haven’t been sleeping well.”
“That’s because I’m jet-lagged,” she tells him, somewhat grumpily. He smiles patiently.
