Page 40

Chapter 39

Lily

I haven’t heard from Tyler once this whole week.

And I just don’t understand why.

I understand that he was mad, but he’s had plenty of time to get over it. But I’m mad too.

Should I have reached out to him? Maybe. But honestly, deep down, I know it should be him. I didn’t start this. I didn’t accuse him of anything. I didn’t break his heart. He did all of those things, and I guess I thought he’d calm down, see reason, and reach out.

Only he hasn’t.

Which I don’t understand.

I know he has trust issues. I’ve known that for years, but he has to see that he purposely self-sabotaged a great thing because of this. He hurt me over a fear that he has, or several fears, and while I would forgive him if he called and said as much, he’s not calling, and in a way that hurts more.

After making the decision to leave Tampa, the rental property let us know they were available for me to move in early, so that’s what I did. I changed my flight, packed up my things, and headed to New York City. Morgan met me here. She was horrified when I told her what had happened and her role in this. She had been so excited about the reveal she didn’t even think about the rules I mentioned and it turns out that I did give her Tyler’s number. I gave it to her as an in case of an emergency situation months ago. Out of context and in that emotional moment with him in the kitchen, I forgot. We cried together, we drank a lot of wine, and then I put on my big girl pants and got to work.

I would be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about this week. Coming out to my readers, feeling like I can interact with them now, and having a book signing, I’m so excited for this next phase of my career that I’ve had to block out the hurt I feel from him. Morgan and I went to dinner with Julia, the owner of Between the Pages. Morgan found a photographer and we did a professional session. We’ve videoed more reels than I know what to do with, and together, Morgan and I worked on my business plan.

A business plan that sets us up for the next three years.

A plan that feels so solid and aligns with what I want for my personal life. Finally, I feel like I’m back on track, and it’s better than ever.

The only problem is Tyler.

I wanted him to be a part of my plan, but apparently, he’s not.

I even called Lance. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest that we ended up together, and while I wanted him to spill all of the sordid details of Tyler’s life, he wouldn’t. I didn’t intentionally do anything wrong. I can see how some of the things he accused me of looked really bad, but if he had just breathed a little and listened to what I was saying, we wouldn’t be where we are right now, which is nowhere, instead of emotionally together.

“Lily, if you’ll just come stand over here, we’ll get a few more photos and then we’ll get you situated upstairs,” Julia says, breaking me from my thoughts.

Julia and Morgan outdid themselves today.

Downstairs in the bookstore is a large pop-up banner for Love on the Lake . Next to it is a table where you check in and collect your preordered book. A balloon arch takes you upstairs to where the event is being held. They’ve had swag made for purchase, there's a food station with dozens of donuts and two cakes that’ve been decorated like the cover, one for each session, a nonalcoholic drink of the day, and heart-shaped cookies that are of a loon with the title over its head.

Upstairs are more balloons, a large backdrop with my author logo repeating across it, two director’s chairs, and rows and rows of chairs for the readers. Julia has already hooked a tiny microphone to my shirt. While this isn’t her first rodeo, it is definitely mine, and I’m on edge.

“Sure,” I tell her as I move to stand next to her. I smooth my pants down, make sure my shirt is tucked in, and let the photographer do her thing. I’m nervous for today. Who wouldn’t be? After all, I can’t remember the last time I did any public speaking, if ever. While I’m used to standing in the spotlight next to someone, being the main attraction is something else.

“You’re going to do great today,” Morgan says once the photos are over. She’s really been my ride or die this week, and she looks incredible, matching me in a black suit. Whereas my shirt underneath is silver, hers is a white T-shirt with my author logo on it. Both of us are wearing heels, and I know the suit should give me some confidence, but it’s not. It’s the shoes. I might have splurged on four-inch black patent leather heels with red soles.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am.” She gathers my hair to fall over my left shoulder. “We went over the interview questions already, so nothing will be a surprise, and they’re all going to love you,” she says, smiling up at me. Leaning forward, she wraps her arms around me, and I sink into the hug. “I’m really proud of you, and also, you look kick-ass today. If I wasn’t already spoken for, seeing you like this might tempt me to sway to the other side.”

A laugh bursts out of me.

She pulls back, her hands clasping my shoulders. “I’m serious. You look incredible, the book is amazing, and everyone here is so excited to see you because you’re you. You’ve earned this, and I want you to love every moment of it.”

I let out a sigh, and my head drops a little.

“Don’t do that.” She shakes me. “We’ll think about him later because today, right now, it’s your day.”

“I know. I just wish he would have texted me or something.”

She gives me a closed-mouth smile. It’s one of pity but also understanding as she knows how much I’ve fallen for him.

“Men are stupid,” she says, and for some reason, that makes me smile.

It’s then that the bell over the bookstore entrance jingles, and the door swings open. Shoppers aren’t allowed inside yet, so we all turn to see who it is. Morgan’s hand, which is still on me, squeezes my arm so hard, I stop breathing.

There, standing in the doorway, is Tyler holding a ginormous bouquet of orange flowers that half cover his face, and he sneezes. Three times. My eyes stick on the flowers and their vibrancy. They’re so beautiful my eyes prick with tears. No one has ever bought me orange tiger lilies before. You would think that they would have, considering my hair color and my name, but they haven’t. I imagine this feeling that I have is the same for brown-eyed girls the first time someone plays for them the Van Morrison song, and the emotions in my chest swell so large I feel like I’m about to burst.

My eyes travel up from the flowers to him, and he is entirely locked in on me. My soul cries out at the recognition of his. His dark hair is styled perfectly, his dark eyes are full of apology and awe, and he’s wearing a sharp gray suit with a white shirt and black tie that unknowingly matches me. He’s so tall and handsome, I want to collapse into his arms and have him hold me forever.

“Have you seen the line outside?” he asks. “It’s wrapped all the way around the block.” He points over his shoulder and then drops his hand.

No one says anything. No one even moves.

But then he takes a step toward me. I snap out of the shock at seeing him and step toward him too.

“What are you doing here? You have a game tomorrow.”

“I know I do, but I couldn’t not be here.” He gives me a small sheepish smile, that’s just for me, that tells me he thinks I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. “It’s your big day, and someone I love recently told me that this is what you do for your friends, you be there for them. And well, how could I not come and be here for my best friend?”

Morgan squeaks next to me, and those tears start to fall over.

He’s here.

For me.

I’m so happy.

I didn’t need him for today, but I really wanted him.

He looks around and sees that we have an audience. Morgan is standing next to me, along with Julia, the photographer, and a few other employees. They are wide-eyed as they take Tyler in, and that’s when I see the photographer lift her camera and take his picture.

“Tyler . . .” I start shaking my head.

He steps forward and cuts me off. “Lil, I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know there is more that needs to be said after our last conversation, and I promise it will be said later, but I’d like to believe that you know me well enough to know that I didn’t mean it. I got lost in my head, and I should have taken a moment to really think things through, but I didn’t. And I’m sorry.” He takes another step and completely ignores those around us. My heart swells at how he doesn’t care at all that we have an audience, and he isn’t too prideful not to say what he came here to say.“And no matter what is happening between us, good or bad, it’s important to me that you know, I will always show up for you. I’m so proud of you.”

My hair and makeup have been done, but it doesn’t matter. I couldn’t stop the tears if I tried. One by one, they roll down my face.

“I gave her your phone number. I forgot and I’m sorry.”

One corner of his mouth tugs up. “It doesn’t matter. It never did.”

Stretching his arm toward Morgan, he hands her the flowers and then gently wraps his hands around my face. “Please don’t cry,” he whispers. “My heart can’t take it,” he says as he wipes away my tears with his thumbs and lays his forehead against mine.

Every single cell in my body responds to his nearness. All the parts of me that felt just a little bit off today suddenly don’t. I feel a relief like I’ve never known.

“You didn’t call me.”

“I’m sorry. I was mad at myself. Embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, and then days passed, and I’m just so sorry.”

“I missed you,” I tell him, gazing up into my favorite pair of eyes and reaching for his waist so I can hold on to him too. My hands slide under his coat, and his body is so warm it’s radiating through the shirt. I needed this warmth. His warmth.“I really wanted you to be here.” More tears come out, and then all of a sudden, the pressure and anxiety of the last week breaks free. He folds me into his arms, and I openly but quietly cry.

As great as Morgan has been, she's not him at the end of the day. He’s my person, and I missed him so much. It’s been hard for me to grasp that this great big career move has been happening this week, and he hasn’t been a part of it. But now he is, and I feel like a weighted blanket has been wrapped around me that’s full of encouragement and support. I don’t feel as if I’m wandering aimlessly and just a slight breeze could blow me over.

“Well, I wanted to be here, so here I am.”

He smells so good. He feels so good. All of the “fake it till you make it” I’ve been putting out this week disappears as I breathe him in.

“Took you long enough.”

He chuckles and pulls back a little so he can look down at me. One hand cups the back of my neck while the other keeps pressure on my lower back so our stomachs are touching.

“I really am sorry. I didn’t mean it.” There’s worry etched into the subtle lines of his face. The tiny ones around his eyes, the two slashes creasing between his brows, and the way he swallows, it’s as if he’s expecting a tongue-lashing from me or an argument, but I’m not the type to give one.

“I know you didn’t. At least I was praying you didn’t.” My fingertips dip under the waistband of his slacks.

“Sweetheart,” he says, and then his eyes twitch just before he turns his head and sneezes into his arm.

“Bless you,” I tell him, a smile crawling onto my face.

“It’s the flowers,” he tells me, sniffing.

“You didn’t have to get me flowers.” I grin up at him.

“Yes, I did. It’s your big day, and I love you,” he says, full of tenderness.

He loves me.

My eyes overflow again, and he lays his forehead back against mine.

“I love you so much,” he says. “You’ll never know how sorry I am for the things I said to you.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I tell him. At least not right now. He’s here, and that’s what is important to me.

“It does. And I want you to know I’ve burned the rules. All five of them. There are no more rules. You can throw as many parties as you want, fill the house with flowers, and cook all of the ground beef that your heart desires.”

I laugh at his admission.

“Tyler.” I look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” And not being able to hold back any longer, I lift on my toes and kiss him.

Would some make him work harder to make this up to me? Maybe. But what would be the point in that? I forgive him, I love him, and I have no interest in rehashing, hurting his feelings or, better yet, mine. Sometimes people say things they don’t mean. Usually there’s a cause for this. I know his, and we will talk it out. I’m not letting him off the hook that easy, but I’m also not going to punish him. I know him, and despite his fears, we’ll work through them together.

“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” he says against my lips.

“Really?”

“You know you’re stuck with me now, right?” he teases.

“Deal,” I tell him, my heart so full of happiness.

He pulls back a little. “In fact, I think we should shake on it.”

Between us, he lifts his hand with only his pinky finger open for me, and I fall all over again.