Page 92 of Love Arranged

She disappears through the swinging door, leaving me alone with the sketch she must have been working on before her call. With modern technology, I’m surprised Lily still uses pencil and paper to design her bouquets, but given her talent, I understand why.

I start flipping the pages, only to stop at one sketch of the garden she talked about a few times. It looks different from the one I saw recently when I hid her keys. The fountain, which was deteriorating when I saw it, looks to be functioning in the drawing, with water cascading down the sides. The luscious landscaping is completely different in the drawing too, no longer appearing abandoned but with flowers blossoming and hedges neatly trimmed.

This drawing is what I imagined her special place to look like, but for some reason the garden currently lacks that charm.

Lily rips the sketchbook out from underneath my hand and slams it shut.

“Here you go.” She all but tosses the flowers at me. If I didn’t have quick reflexes, they would’ve fallen to the floor and been crushed.

“Pretty drawing you have there.”

Her jaw works itself. “Goodbye, Lorenzo.”

I’m surprised by her snippiness, so I poke around for answers because I can’t help myself. “Did that phone call put you in a mood?”

“You snooping around did.”

She fans the flames of curiosity burning inside me, but with the way her mouth pulls tight with barely restrained irritation, I’ll seek answers elsewhere.

I should leave, but I loiter instead by the counter like my feet are glued to the floor.

Lily ignores me. She doesn’t return to drawing, instead choosing a task she thinks I’d find boring.

Truth is I could watch her complete the most menial tasks, like trimming flowers or reviewing invoices, and never get bored. There’s too much about her that interests me, from the delicate way she curls ribbons or organizes wrapping paper to the amusing furrow she gets between her brows whenever she has to do inventory counts.

That’s the only plausible explanation for why I’m lingering, wanting to ask Lily more questions. That and my curiosityabout why she was talking to the vet’s office when Rafa’s kittens are all accounted for.

A curiosity that I shouldn’t feel, but one I plan on satisfying regardless.

With or without her help.

An overwhelming sense of sadness hits me when I stop in front of the vet’s office. I’m assaulted by the memory of my parents and me visiting this same clinic with our family dog, and the stabbing sensation in my chest worsens when I think about how they never made it here on the night of their accident.

With a few steady breaths and a reminder of why I’m here, I walk inside, looking like I don’t have a single care in the world outside of finding out what Lily is hiding.

Turns out the woman working the front desk was more than happy to give me all the answers I needed. All I had to do was flash a smile and share how much Lily raves about the clinic, andecco qua, everyone was ready to talk all about Daisy, the dog Lily loves to visit every day, and how Rafa is paying all the pricey medical bills.

Him covering the bills annoys me, but not nearly as much as Lily keeping secrets from me.

But why does that matter to you?

It shouldn’t, but I’m a bit peeved at how she never even talked to me about Daisy, who clearly is important since she is so invested in her rehabilitation. It’s not like she hasn’t had plenty of opportunities to bring it up.

Yet she didn’t want to.

I’m not a fan of the little pinch in my chest when I think of her keeping secrets. Not a fan at all.

I’m still thinking about Daisy when I pick up Lily from her house that evening in a vintage 1956 Cadillac Eldorado. The convertible felt like a fitting pick for tonight’s drive-in movie date, but she doesn’t comment on it like I expected.

Lily is rather quiet during the drive to the lot near the edge of town, and I find her checking her phone more than once for new messages.

“You good?” I ask once we arrive at the drive-in theater, where rows of cars are lined up for tonight’s film. We are directed toward an empty area, but with how popular the spot is for couples and families, it’s only a matter of time before we are surrounded on all sides.

“I’m fine,” she replies without an ounce of emotion.

“You sure?” I ask, knowing an answer like that deserves a follow-up.

“Yes.” She glances over at me. “Why are you asking?”