Page 19

nineteen

Alice

Three Weeks Later

“That. Better. Be. A. Margarita.”

I hold up my dad’s bag of liquid nutrition, laughing lightly. “How’d you know? I’m even salting the rim of your G-tube. But not until later, when Mom is here to help me with it.”

He’s been home for almost ten days now, his condition more fragile than before. The doctors had to put a gastrostomy tube in his stomach so he can be fed a liquid diet that gives him the nutrients he needs and helps protect his deteriorating kidneys.

Once his bag is stored in the small refrigerator in his room, I tuck his covers around him, his eyes already closing. I kiss his forehead, double-checking that the large call button on the side of the hospital bed in his bedroom is within his reach.

“Call if you need anything, Dad. You better sleep while you can. Dalton has another game picked out to watch tonight.”

His lips twitch, which is him smiling. For the past few evenings, Dalton has carried my dad out to the living room and streamed one of his old hockey games on our TV. He’s teaching us about hockey and all the little things he sees himself doing on film that he’s always working on.

My dad loves every minute of it. My mom says he works harder at therapy when Dalton takes him. It’s just been the two of them for a long time, and my parents are thrilled to have time to get to know Dalton and catch up with me.

I close his bedroom door and find Dalton in the kitchen making sandwiches for our lunch.

“You’re not tired of my mom’s chicken salad?”

He grins at me. “Are you kidding? I love this stuff. She should package it and sell it.”

I walk over to him and hug him from behind. He raves about my mom’s cooking, and she eats up every word. I think he genuinely does love it, because he has a bowl of chicken salad on the counter with a fork in it that he’s snacking on while he makes the sandwiches.

“Did you notice that since I don’t like the grapes in the chicken salad, and you love the grapes in it, she put more grapes in it this time?” I roll my eyes as I walk over to the dishwasher.

“I’m a growing boy, babe. Maria knows it.”

My mom adores Dalton. In the three weeks he’s been staying with us at their house, he’s done all the grocery shopping, taken over mowing and trimming the yard, and fixed the leaky roof on their shed. Not to mention his help with Dad’s care.

Dalton and I have been taking Dad to his therapy and doctor appointments in what Dalton calls my parents’ “party van.” Once we’ve used the wheelchair lift to get him inside and secure him, Dalton gets behind the wheel of the van and asks Dad where he wants to go. He lists off ideas like casinos, gentlemen’s clubs, and the golf course.

Dad has always had a great sense of humor, and his lips twitch with mirth as Dalton pretends he’s taking Dad to play poker or shoot nine holes.

“Speaking of my mom, where is she?” I ask as I unload clean dishes from the dishwasher.

“She went to get a pedicure.”

“Oh, that’s right. She’s getting her hair done, too. She’s so excited about Will coming for the weekend.”

Dalton sets my plate down in front of me on the counter, my chicken salad sandwich on white cut into two neat triangles. “I finally get to find out if you’re the good twin or the evil twin.”

“Let me know what you decide,” I quip. “You’re free to share a bed with Will if you want.”

He wraps his arms around my waist from behind as I put a bowl in a kitchen cabinet.

“You’d miss me too much, Miss Morrow.” He holds me close, my back to his chest, and I let my head fall back on his shoulder.

“You do have certain talents I’ve grown fond of,” I say playfully.

It took me more than a week to convince him to have sex with me in my parents’ house. He said he felt like a high school kid who was worried about getting busted.

We’ve become great at stealthy sex. Dalton is particularly skilled with his hands, using one to slowly tease me while he covers my mouth with his other one to conceal my moans.

He kisses my neck, gently tugging on my earlobe with his teeth. I get that familiar swirl of desire in my stomach for him, his hand sliding underneath the hem of my T-shirt.

“You know, we could--”

The ringing of the doorbell cuts me off. I turn and look at him, grabbing a handful of the front of his T-shirt and pulling lightly.

“Probably just a delivery. Want to meet me in the bedroom?”

His gaze darkens. “You know I do.”

I close the dishwasher door, leaving the rest of the clean dishes for later. Dalton is scarfing his sandwich as I go into the living room and open the front door.

Farrah is standing there, a vase full of colorful flowers in her hands.

“Hey,” she says, her eyes locking with mine.

“Hi.”

My heart races as it sets in that she’s really here, at my parents’ home. It’s nothing like the mansions she owns.

“How’s your dad doing?” she asks.

I’m too stunned to answer for a second. Farrah has never asked how I was doing, let alone one of my family members.

“He’s home. Still himself inside and able to communicate with us.”

She nods. “Good. I brought these for him.”

She’s dressed in black leggings and a plain, lightweight white T-shirt, her long blond hair flowing out of the back of a baseball cap. This is how she dresses for plane flights, and she also has on the big sunglasses that help disguise her a bit. It looks like she’s not wearing makeup, which is rare for her.

“Do you want to come inside?”

She hesitates. “I don’t want to intrude. But could we maybe...talk out here for a little bit?”

I step aside. “You’re not intruding. Come in.”

Nodding, she steps in, taking in my parents’ small, cozy living room that’s swallowed up by a couch and two recliners. Photos of me and Will growing up line the walls. An afghan made decades ago by my grandma is folded neatly and hung over the back of the worn couch they’ve had since I was a kid.

Dalton comes in from the kitchen, his gaze shooting between me and Farrah.

“Hey, Farrah,” he says in a neutral tone.

“Hey. Can I give these to you?”

“Yeah.” He comes over and takes the vase of flowers. “You want a chicken salad sandwich? Or a drink?”

I love that he’s so comfortable here. And that even though he’s pissed at Farrah, he seems to know how much pride she had to swallow to show up here.

“I’m good, thanks.”

He nods, looking at me. “I’ll be upstairs.”

Farrah sits down on one end of the couch, and I sit down on the other end. It’s weird. Having the two parts of my life that have always been so separate colliding out of nowhere.

“I owe you an apology, Alice.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I know Dalton said some things, but I knew what working for you meant, and you’ve been very generous with money. It’s changed my family’s lives.”

She shakes her head, tears welling in her eyes as she smiles sadly. “It’s so like you to let me off the hook. But Dalton was right. I spent the rest of my time on the show thinking about our relationship.”

“So you’re done with filming?”

She nods. “Spoiler alert--I didn’t end up with anyone. You can’t tell anyone that, of course, because of the NDAs we signed.”

“I won’t.”

She breaks out into the dazzling smile that has graced many movie posters. “I think Misty and Dom are going to end up married. Who saw that coming?”

I get a warm feeling as I remember the sweet gymnast who deserves all the happiness in the world from what I can see. “Good for Misty.”

She sighs heavily. “Guess it’s obvious I’m new to apologizing.”

I close the distance between us, a lump in my throat as I cover her hand with one of mine.

“I thought you’d hate me for leaving. If you don’t, we’re good.”

Her gaze falls to her lap, where a tear drops onto the back of my hand. “I could never hate you, Alice. You’re my best friend. I...” Her voice wavers and she clears her throat. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” My own eyes flood with tears. “And you’re my best friend.”

She looks up at me, a wet trail running down each of her cheeks. “Really? Even though our relationship has been completely about me?”

“It hasn’t. You watched Mean Girls for me. You took me to that French bakery so I could try things even though you didn’t want any of it.”

She laughs softly. “I wanted all of it .”

“You’ve always included me in your adventures. I’m not some sad little assistant who waits in the trailer while you’re skydiving and going on safaris. We’ve done things together that I never would have dreamed of doing without you.”

She covers my hand with her other one. “Thank you for being so gracious. But I have to say this just so I know I did this the right way. I’ve treated you unfairly and you’re the last person in my life who--,” She pauses to take a breath after her voice breaks. “Who deserved that. I’m sorry. And I’m so happy Dalton realized the most amazing woman on that show--the greatest catch--was you.”

We’re both crying as I wrap my arms around her in a hug.

“Of course I forgive you. I’m so happy you’re not...mad at me.”

She pulls away, wiping her cheeks. “I need to work on myself. I’m not signing the contract for the next movie.”

“You’re not?”

She shakes her head, looking amused. “I’m going to rehab.”

My eyes widen with surprise. “Rehab? You don’t drink alcohol or use drugs.”

“You can pay fancy rehab places to treat you for literally anything, and they’ll take your twenty thousand a week. Can you believe that? So I’m going to narcissism rehab.”

My jaw drops. Farrah has become shockingly self-aware in the three weeks we’ve been apart.

“Farrah, that’s...” I stumble, unable to come up with a word for it.

She laughs. “It’s fucked. But I’m really looking forward to it. They’re going to teach me how to have ‘healthy, reciprocal relationships.’” She air quotes the words. “I’m hoping to practice on that with you.”

A wave of trepidation hits me. “I meant it about loving you, but the doctors have said my dad’s going to decline faster than before, and I need to be here with my parents right now.”

“I know. I get it. You should be here. Jackie is depositing two years’ worth of your salary into your account on your next payday.”

My stomach drops. “No, you don’t--”

She cuts me off mid-sentence. “Stop. It’s done, and if you or your family need anything else, anything at all , you call Jackie and she’ll take care of getting you more.”

I’m too overcome with emotion to respond to her for a few seconds. When I do manage, it’s through tears. “Thank you. That means the world to me.”

“I’ll be in rehab for sixteen weeks. I start on Monday.”

I picture Farrah in a plain room with no luxuries. No one bringing her lavender water. No one running to a local gas station to buy a Kit Kat just so she can sniff it.

“Well...at least the main topic of conversation will be you ,” I quip.

She laughs heartily at that. “That’s a fair point. Would it be okay if I call you when I’m allowed to?”

“Of course. Please call me. I’ve been sad about not having you in my life anymore. I never wanted that.”

She puts an arm around me. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily. Even though you aren’t my assistant anymore, I’m hoping that at some point, you’ll consider becoming my business manager. You know the business, you know me, and I trust you completely.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You can do it entirely remotely if you want. Or you can travel with me every now and then, but only if you want to. I’ll never ask you to do anything but business manager work. And if you don’t want to do that, I respect it and still want to keep you as my best friend.”

I don’t even have to think about it. “I’m interested. But not while my dad is...”

I look away, unable to finish the sentence.

“The job is yours. In six months or in six years.”

I nod, warming to the idea as it sets in. She’s flawed, but I do love Farrah. Getting to have my own life and still be close with her is something I never dreamed possible.

“So what are you doing until you start narcissist rehab?”

A little snort comes out when she laughs. “You’re going to call it that until we’re old and gray, aren’t you?”

“Definitely.”

“I’m staying at a hotel in downtown Detroit. I fly out early Monday for Bali.”

“Bali?” I give her a wistful look. “I want to go, too.”

“I know. I’ll scope out a spa for us to stay at when I finish. If you can.”

“Well, I’d love for you to meet my family. My mom made lasagna for dinner, which I know you don’t eat, but you’re welcome to come over and...have some water?”

Her smile reaches her eyes, warm and sincere. “I would love to eat your mom’s lasagna. You don’t think Dalton would mind?”

I wave a hand. “Of course not.”

“I’m happy for you. Really, really happy. He better treat you right.”

My fingertips reflexively move over the flower pendant. I still read the letter he wrote me at least once a day. “He does. I’ll have more time on my hands when his hockey season starts, but for now, I’m just enjoying having him all to myself.” I look over at the stairway. “Speaking of Dalton, I’m going to go get him. I’m making an apple pie for tonight, so we can all catch up while I work on it.”

“Great.”

I’m almost all the way up the stairs when the doorbell rings. I jog down a couple of stairs and stop, leaning down to look out the window for a delivery truck.

“You want me to...?” Farrah is standing a few feet in front of the door, looking at me.

“Yeah, thanks.”

She opens the door with a smile. I can’t see who’s on the other side as she says, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. This is my parents’ house.”

Her jaw drops. “Oh, sorry! Come in. Hi, I’m Farrah.”

My twin walks into the house, a bag slung over his shoulder. At six-three with broad shoulders and a lean waistline, he makes his blue scrubs look good. His dark hair is cut short and he has a couple days’ worth of stubble.

Dalton joins me on the stairway, sliding an arm around my waist.

“Hi Farrah, I’m Will Morrow.”

Farrah shakes his hand, her expression lighting up as they shake hands, seconds ticking by as they stare at each other. Will looks equally mesmerized by her.

“It’s really nice to meet you,” she finally says.

“You, too. If I’d known you were going to be here, I would’ve cleaned up. I came straight from work.”

She smiles up at him, her hand still in his. “No. I think you look...perfect.”