Page 125 of Delilah Green Doesn't Care

Wading into Bright River five years ago in a lace dress.

She gasped, and her hand flew to her mouth. She spun around, eyes searching through the dim lighting. Astrid could’ve had access to all the other photos. She knew Delilah had sent her a file with the images she’d taken during her time in Bright Falls. And this was the sort of thing Iris would do for her—organize some amazing display of the exact kind of art and photographs Claire would want to populate her store.

But this photo, only one person could’ve hung it here. Only one person had it in their possession, and there was no reason she’d ever give it to Astrid or Iris. No reason Claire could think of anyway. She walked swiftly through the store, hope and dread mingling in her gut. She angled around a freestanding shelf that held reference books, the reading area she’d set up with soft brown leather chairs coming into view.

And in one of the chairs, Delilah Green sat with her elbows resting on her knees.

Everything in Claire froze—her body, her breath, her heart. That’s what it felt like, her pulse pausing to see what was going to happen next.

“Hi,” Delilah said.

Claire didn’t say hi back. She couldn’t. She just blinked, her mouth hanging wide open.

“I’m really here. You’re not hallucinating,” Delilah said with a little smile. She had on a pair of gray skinny jeans and a fitted black V-neck tee, her lovely tattoos on display.

Claire snapped her mouth shut.

Delilah’s smile fell, and when she spoke again, her voice was soft. “Say something. Please.”

Claire finally got a good breath into her lungs. Her brain worked hard, trying to process all of this. She noticed one other pale green wooden frame resting on the coffee table in front of Delilah. It was far smaller than the ones on the walls, maybe a five by seven, and it was facedown so Claire couldn’t see the image.

“How... how was your show at the Whitney?” she finally said.

Delilah looked surprised. “Is that really what you want to ask me right now?”

“I... I don’t know. I just... I’ve wondered.”

Delilah’s eyes lit up. “It went well.Reallywell.”

Claire smiled. She couldn’t help it. She wanted good things for Delilah, even if those good things didn’t include Claire. But then again, Delilah was here. She was in Bright Falls, in Claire’s store. Curiosity and confusion warred in her mind.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Delilah laughed, the sound small and a little nervous. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Claire took a step forward, then another and another until she found herself sinking into the chair across from Delilah, the coffee table in between them.

“So?” she asked when Delilah didn’t continue.

Delilah swallowed and nodded, then scooted to the edge of her chair, lacing her hands together. “First, I wanted to bring you these photos.”

“You could’ve mailed them.” Her tone came out harsher than she intended. Or maybe not. She felt her defenses rising, and maybe they needed to. She didn’t think she’d even admitted it to herself yet, but this woman broke her heart when she left two weeks ago. She wouldn’t go through that again. She’d already been there so many times with her dad, with Josh. So whatever Delilah’s game was here, Claire wasn’t playing it.

Delilah took a deep breath. “I could have, but that brings me to my other reason for coming here.”

“And what’s that?”

“You.”

Such a tiny word, but it landed like a bomb. “Me.”

“You.”

“What about me?”

Delilah looked down at her boots as though gathering her thoughts. She chewed on her lower lip like she did when she was nervous, and Claire had to force herself to stay put, tonotgo to Delilah and touch her face, tell her it was going to be okay. She needed to hear whatever Delilah was going to say, and she needed Delilah to tell her on her own. Claire couldn’t help her with this one.

“What about me, Delilah?”