Chapter Twenty-Three
Lila
I aimlessly scroll through Facebook, telling myself I did the right thing by deleting that voice mail. I’m moving on. I can’t let him pull me back in.
I’d been shocked after all these months to hear from him. When I saw the familiar number under missed calls and the voice mail, though, my heart instantly stopped. Was something wrong? Surely there was a major emergency if he was calling.
But when I listened to the message, that familiar voice sending a shiver through me, I’d smiled. His dreams were coming true. In a way, the dreams we had together were coming true. We’d spent so many nights talking, fantasizing about Luke’s career, about what he wanted, about how music could be his day job. I was his number-one fan and his cheerleader, keeping him going when he wanted to quit. His voice is truly special, and he has this charm about him that comes alive onstage. It’s like he was born to be there.
When Luke couldn’t see that, I helped him. I was there in the front row at every gig, from basement-like bars to small fairs, listening to every word he sang, feeling like he was always singing to just me.
But not now. Now, there is a new girl in my seat. There are new eyes he stares into as he sings. There are probably new words, new songs for a new life he’s built without me.
It hurts, even if I don’t want it to. It kills me to think about that girl in my seat, where I’d always been.
And it’s not because I want the fame and the glory. It’s not because I’m afraid he’s going to write killer breakup songs about me that hit the radio. It’s because… well, I don’t know the answer to the because.
I just know it hurts not being the one there with Luke.
I snap out of it, shoving it aside. It’s over. We’re over. We walked away.
Now I’m finding new happiness, the happiness with a safe, secure man who can lead me to my goals, who can maybe someday give me my dream life.
The horn honks outside. Oliver is apparently waiting in his car. I don’t completely blame him—Grandma Claire is quite the handful. Still, I look over on the sofa where Grandma Claire is watching the evening news with Cookie and Trixie on her lap and I see a frown.
“You know, in my day, it was rude to just wait outside when you were picking up your date,” Grandma Claire says huffily.
“Oh, stop. Oliver is an amazing guy. He’s probably just in a hurry.” Mom hands Grandma Claire a cup of tea as she waves at me. “Don’t you think…,” she begins, eyeing my outfit.
“Goodbye, Mother,” I say, rushing out the door before I can hear about how if I want a proposal someday, I need to start taking my time with Oliver seriously.
Mom is, of course, Oliver Waynesboro’s biggest fan these days. A prominent family, a solid career, good looks, and just the right amount of charm equates to a perfect match for her daughter, at least in Lucy Morrow’s book. Oliver, at least in Mom’s eyes, is everything Luke wasn’t. He’s dedicated and rational. He’s a planner and a go-getter.
He’s serious about family, about marriage, about life.
So naturally, Mom has been pushing nuptials since Maren’s wedding.
He is an amazing guy, I think as I head to the Mustang and Oliver waves. And he is serious about family, about marriage, and about everything. He’s the perfect fit, the perfect, stable guy to give me the life I’ve so desperately been wanting for the past few years. Looking at Oliver, I can see this life set out before us of the white picket fence, two kids, and a steady, planned-out way of living.
I get into the car, and Oliver leans over, kissing me gently. “You look gorgeous,” he says, and I smile, buckling up as we pull out.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Well, I have to be back to Park Lane in an hour, so I thought we’d make a quick stop at that doughnut place we tried before.”
“Oh, yeah, great,” I say, trying my hardest to make the smile on my face genuine. “Do you mind if I grab Henry, then? Dot loves him and we can grab a table outside.” We’re backing down the driveway, but there’s still time. I reach to unbuckle my belt.
Oliver puts a hand on mine to stop me. “We don’t have a lot of time, and it’ll just be easier without him, don’t you think?”
I stare into those gorgeous blue eyes I’ve been getting to know.
I paint back on the smile. “Sure,” I say, thinking about how things with Oliver are easier.
Easier and simpler.
My mind threatens to wander back to all those times Luke and I walked Henry up for doughnuts, his favorite being the vanilla birthday cake supreme doughnut, which Dot would decorate with a biscuit when Henry was in tow. It threatens to think about all the laughs and the questions we’d get as Henry slobbered underneath our tiny table out in front of Dot’s, as we’d talk about our favorite shows and what we were doing tomorrow.
Just like the voice mail, though, I hit delete. I throw those thoughts away because they’re useless now. Luke was my past.
Looking over at Oliver, who is animatedly chatting about his sister’s pregnancy announcement and how he can’t wait to be an uncle again and how we should go visit his family in Maine sometime soon, I smile.
“What is it?” he asks.
“You’re a great guy,” I say, meaning it, hanging on every word.
“And you’re pretty amazing yourself, Lila. I’m lucky to have you in my life. You make me happy.”
And with that, the past is tossed aside, talks of the future, of my future, settling in.
***
Dot hugs me as Oliver and I settle into a table—a new table, our table—after Oliver orders for us. When Nicholas brings us our plate, there aren’t peanut-butter doughnuts.
There is one chocolate toffee doughnut and one plain, glazed doughnut.
“Oh, they both look good,” I say, meaning it. “Want to split them?”
Oliver looks at me. “Um, why don’t you just pick one?” he asks.
I nod, a little disappointed, which is crazy because it’s just a damn doughnut. I grab for the chocolate toffee doughnut, and Oliver picks up the glazed.
We talk about the recent patients at Park Lane and about plans for the holidays. Oliver tells me he bought us two tickets to the symphony for next weekend, and I graciously thank him, telling him it will be my first time. We chat about the weather and about the new restaurant in town.
In short, we chat away the time together. All the while, I notice Dot studying us from behind the counter as she’s wiping down surfaces and talking to other customers.
When we’re just finishing up, she wanders over. “How is everything?” Dot asks, and I know she isn’t just talking about the doughnuts.
But Oliver is none the wiser. “Everything was great. This glazed doughnut was perfect. I know people like a lot of fancy frills, but why mess with simple when it’s good, right?”
Dot rests a hand on the back of my chair, leaning over my shoulder. I can smell her flowery perfume. “Agreed, young man. Agreed. Sometimes in life we’re looking for something new and exciting and frilly, but what we had right in front of us was just simply good, you know? Being adventurous and bold and trying new things sounds great, but not if it isn’t what you really want. That plain glazed doughnut, if you eat it every single day, can get dull and less exciting. You might be tempted to move on to something better, to something that seems better for your life. They say variety is the spice of life, but I disagree. I think once you find something that works, it’s worth sticking with it, even if it seems like life is just passing by.”
I feel my chest tighten. I don’t think we’re talking about doughnuts anymore. Dot gives my shoulder a squeeze, but I don’t turn around. I can’t turn around.
“Wow, that lady really is passionate about doughnuts,” Oliver says, shaking his head, but none the wiser.
I smile. “Yeah, she really is.” I feel myself getting misty-eyed, but I try to shrug it off, clapping my hands and talking about how that chocolate toffee doughnut was amazing and how happy I am that I got to try something new.
But Dot’s words stick in my head. Was that really what I’d done? Had I convinced myself I couldn’t be with Luke anymore because it wasn’t what I wanted in life when the truth was I just felt like I needed a change? Had monotony and fear just overthrown the best damn thing that happened to me?
And did my three peanut-butter doughnut life really get better when I went to a glazed and a chocolate toffee doughnut?
Was letting Luke go for a chance at a life I thought I wanted, a life of commitment and stability, really making me happy?
I get what Dot was saying. I do. As Oliver grabs my hand and leads me to the car, kissing me on my cheek, I settle against him, thinking that I’m just in my head too much.
Dot’s words might ring true, I don’t know. Regardless, I don’t think I’m brave enough to give her words a go.