Chapter Thirty-Two
Lila
“Dot, where’s the dog?” I ask, running through the front door. She’s standing behind the counter, smiling calmly, which strikes me as odd. Shouldn’t she be in a panic? Shouldn’t there be other people here, trying to help?
She comes from behind the counter as I breathe heavily.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” she says, “but you two needed a shove. I can’t stand it anymore.”
“What?” I ask, confused, but Dot just gestures toward a table. I take a moment and realize Dot’s is empty. Where is everyone? She should be open right now. This is always a place for teenagers and young couples to come sip coffee and ring in the holidays in a peaceful setting.
My eyes settle on something, though, in a familiar corner. The table, our table, is occupied.
By a familiar curly-haired man who looks just as awestruck as me.
Dot pulls me by the arm over to the table. “Dot, I can’t… are you serious?” I ask, a little pissed by her lies.
“Now listen, I know I lied to both of you. I’m sorry. But you two need to stop thinking it’s too late and stop avoiding it. Your love isn’t easy. I get that. My love with Louie wasn’t either. We were different in so many ways, and we fought. We had different visions and we argued like crazy. We almost called it quits a few times, and we even spent some time apart. But you know what? Easy isn’t always better. Sometimes the thing we fight the hardest is the best. I know you two have a lot of things to work out, but I believe in you. I knew from the first moment you walked through that door together you were real. You were good for each other. You were it. I don’t want you two to let your pride or some stupid notion that you can’t work through your issues get in the way. So suck it up and talk it out. I’m leaving now. Lock up when you’re done.”
I look at Luke, who is staring at Dot.
“Oh, and happy holidays,” she says, smiling.
I look down at the plate of three peanut-butter glazed doughnuts between us, an awkward tension palpable as well. I smooth my hair self-consciously as I approach the table.
I can’t believe she did this.
I can’t believe he’s here.
“So how did she get you here?” I ask quietly, almost afraid to raise my voice too much.
“Told me the roof was leaking and with the crowds of people, she needed a roofing expert.”
I shake my head and smile. “She told me there was a dog hit by a car.”
“I didn’t think Dot was so plotting,” Luke says.
I shake my head. “So,” I say just as he says the same thing.
We both sigh. Finally, I reach for a doughnut and take a bite. He does the same. “These things are so damn good,” I say.
“What the hell is in her secret recipe?”
“At this point, with all her lies tonight, I don’t want to know.”
We both eat in silence for a long time, lost in our heads and confusion. I stare at him, feeling the butterflies stirring without even a word between us.
We finish our doughnuts, the third one still sitting on the plate. Neither of us makes a move, both staring at the table, not making eye contact. I wonder if Dot’s plan will fail, if we’ll get up and leave this place just as we came in… separately, alone, apart.
I wonder if too much has happened. I wonder if we’re even the same people sitting here as we were before. I wonder if we could ever get back to the peanut-butter glazed doughnut eating, giggly couple we once were.
I wonder if I even want that.
Luke splits the last doughnut in half and hands it to me. We don’t touch, and we don’t joke. We simply finish our individual halves as if in ode to tradition.
“I should get going.” The words come out of my mouth perfunctorily. I want to look at him and tell him I miss him, that I never stopped. I want to tell him I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him or us since I walked out of that apartment for the final time.
I want to tell him that Dot’s right, that we were so good together. I want to tell him I was a damn fool for insisting on a certain path for us. I want to tell him I don’t care anymore if he’s a little reckless with money or if he sometimes struggles to keep his feet on the ground. I want to tell him that he’s not his dad and that he could never hurt me like that.
But I can’t because the words are stuck in my throat. So much has happened, yet nothing has happened between us these past six months.
I stand, walking away from the table. Luke follows wordlessly. We walk out of Dot’s, Luke locking up behind us. I feel tears forming, so I walk quickly, trying not to look back, the streetlight shining down like a beacon from the past.
I pause underneath it.
“Lila,” he says behind me. It’s said with a reverence, the single word floating between us in the freezing December night.
I turn to face him, the curly-haired man who, despite the past six months, I know better than I know anyone in this world. I see the familiar warm eyes that beckon me forward. Despite the distance between us, it feels like his eyes are wrapping me up. He steps toward me, bridging the gap. A silence freezes between us, the snowflakes gently falling onto us underneath the glow of the light. What should be a romantic scene is instead eerie, punctuated by an emotional distance and a fear of what will come next.
But then, Luke looks up at me, his eyes watery. He speaks, and it sends a jolt through me. “Look, Lila. Dot’s right. I know things aren’t perfect, and I know I hurt you.”
“We hurt each other,” I correct him, practically whispering.
“We did. And I know it’s been a long time, and we’ve both moved on. But dammit, I miss you like crazy. I miss us and who we were together. I miss our breakfast walks and our Netflix binge-watching sessions. I miss your cold feet jolting me awake in the morning. I miss that weird-smelling shampoo in the shower and the way you always winked at me when I passed the salt. I miss everything about you.” His voice, a reverent whisper, wraps itself around me in the deepest sense.
Tears fall now, the freedom of the admission to myself and to him releasing. “I miss you, too. I never stopped missing you. But what happened to us? How did this happen to us?”
“I don’t know. I know there’s a lot that’s changed. I know we can’t just go back to the way it used to be. Hell, I don’t even know if I want to go back, because I know there was a lot wrong. But I miss you, Lila. I love you. I don’t want to keep on like this if it means I have to keep on without you. I don’t know what we need to do to fix this, and I don’t even know if it’s completely possible. There’s a part of me, though, that thinks maybe it’s not all gone. There’s a part of me that thinks you might feel it too. I think that despite everything, we can find who we were together again. If we wanted, we could still be us, but better. We could be the us we always should’ve been.”
I don’t respond or try to rationalize what he’s said. I don’t search for answers or ask the hard questions. I don’t work out the logistics in my head or think of all the ways this could go wrong. I don’t ask for fancy promises or pledges from him. I don’t ask for arbitrary discussions about forever. Instead, I listen to my heart and what it’s been saying for the past six months.
With the streetlight illuminating the darkness above us, I lean in, my hand planted on the pole to steady myself. I lean in and let my lips find the familiar shape of his mouth, the beard I once asked him to shave feeling so good against my cold chin. Our kiss starts out hesitant, the kiss of two strangers unsure of their footing in the relationship. Soon, though, despite the frost in the air and in our hearts, we are home in the kiss. We find the familiar feeling we’ve been missing, and I’m entranced by the jolt between us. There’s no denying it. The spark is still there, maybe even stronger. As his hand moves to my face and he grasps me just the way I like it, I melt into him, letting go of all the fears and frustrations I once felt. The wall between us cracks and then crumbles as his tongue dances on mine in a pattern familiar, a pattern craved.
“I love you, Lila,” he whispers, his breath puffing clouds that drift between us. “I’ve lived my life thinking marriage was the enemy. But I’ve come to learn that a life without you is the enemy. I’ll marry you tomorrow or next week or next year if that’s what you want. Because a life without you isn’t a safe life. It’s just empty.”
I catch my breath and calm my murmuring heart, giving a voice to the words etched into my being. “I love you, too. I’ve never stopped. And marriage isn’t what it’s all about. I thought it was. But this love we have doesn’t need a ring or a promise of forever. It just needs you and me together. That’s it. Marriage isn’t for everyone, but what we have isn’t something everyone finds either. I love you forever, ring or no ring.”
“So we’re made for each other, then? Soul mates after all?” he asks, and a huge grin spreads on my face.
“Soul mates,” I say, grinning, and he wraps me in his arms.
Standing, staring at the town we call home together, I exhale for the first time in months.
After all this time, after all the doubts, I am confident now. It took us falling apart, trying to move on, and almost losing it all for us to figure it out. I’m thankful, though, that we did. I’m thankful we’re here, right back here, where we should be. After all these heartaches and questions, there’s just one thing I know as Luke’s hand firmly grasps mine as if he’ll never let go.
We’re still us. We’re definitely still us, and that’s more than good enough for me.