Page 46 of I Love You in French

“Will you go out with me, Rory?”

And this time, with Rafe not in sight and the note clenched in my hands, I nod my head and feel a bit shattered as I do.

Chapter Seventeen

Sparrow

“Lily! I have nothing to wear!” I yell via speaker phone.

“You have loads to wear. Actual loads, Rory. I’ve seen you do your laundry.”

My sigh bends me forward enough to place my head on my dresser, its half-open drawers pressing into my hips. My phone is resting next to my head so I can hear Lily in a muffled yet endearing sort of way.

A ribbon hairpiece I haven’t seen in a few months is stuffed toward the back of the open drawer, and I shut my eyes before I notice anything else that’s gone missing. There’s too much weighing on my mind for this event.

I hear some music playing softly through the phone. Lily has a nineties boy band playlist going at the café—she does that sometimes when I’m not there—and I don’t even have the heart to tease her or tell her to switch it. “Lil,” I start.

“I know, Rory. I know.”

And we both know that she’s not talking about the music.

Somewhere in the conversation, I’ve turned and slid to the floor, my bed to my back. This is one of the moments I remember it’s true that grief shows its face when you least expect it. Speaking of grief, I look at the flowers on my bedside table. Because I’m a masochist, I put the bouquet Rafe gave me earlier this week in a vase beside my bed so I can look at them and think of the look on his face when he told Gladys that he couldn’t be the one I’d choose in the end. The look that will haunt me. I had him close to me, and I didn’t go after him. I know I let fear win this time, and if I didn’t have tonight to distract me, I would be banging on his door for forgiveness. But what would that change?

“Ro, why aren’t you with him instead?”

I don’t have the luxury of hiding from someone who’s walked with me through the most difficult parts of my life. “Because this was always supposed to be the plan, wasn’t it? Apparently, Rafe had an enlightening conversation with Jacques. And then Jacques asked me out. How could I say no?”

“And? I sense an and,” is the response I get from the other end of the line.

“Anddddd Rafe’s not going to stay in this small town forever.” It hurts to say his name. Whereas normally, it’s sweet and like honey on my tongue, it now feels scratchy.

“Well, have you asked him that? I mean, have you said, ‘Rafe, what are your plans for the future’?”

“He told me. He said that he was here to get his music back on track. But he’s been to Paris and London and just came from LA, Lily! LA.”

“So?”

“So, I love it here, but I know there’s no way I could ask him to stay. Not when he wants to reach people with his music. He’s everything good in this world. He deserves to be on a bigger stage.”

There’s silence, and I know she’s giving me her full attention. “And you can’t leave.”

I shake my head, even though I know she can’t see me. My eyes catch on a framed picture of my parents and me at my fourth birthday. The cake is a few feet toward the center of the table, so I’m on my elbows, leaning over the table, my lips pursed to blow out the candles, my eyes closed to make a wish. The cake is white with pink roses and trim, and my parents are behind me, my mother smiling and my father grinning at my dedication to making wishes. I’ve always made wishes. I just didn’t believe any more of them would come true. “And I can’t leave,” is all I say.

Lily hums in acknowledgment, and then it’s quiet on her end of the line. I know she’s giving me space to work through this moment. I wipe my eyes—because at some point in this conversation I started crying—and I stand up from the floor. It’s time to move forward. Rafe has been a distraction—a beautiful distraction—but I can’t commit to someone who won’t be able to fully commit to me. Who shouldn’t. And I would never ask. So, I ignore the dread in my stomach and decide a different distraction is exactly what I need. Besides, isn’t this what I wished for?

“Let me ask you, Rory—because I love you too much. You want someone to fight for you, and I get it. But what if he needs someone to fight for him too?”

“He got to you too, didn’t he?”

Lily sighs, but I can feel that she’s not going to give away anything easily. She’s a beautiful vault and fights fiercely for people she cares about. So, if she’s not telling me something about Rafe, it means she’s also come to care for him too. This thought makes me smile.

“He didn’t not get to me. He’s okay. I guess. But most importantly, he makes you smile like I’ve never seen. Ever. I don’t know whether to hate him a little bit for it or name one of our coffee drinks after him—decaf, of course.” She laughs at herself. “But if you really need to see this through with Jacques, I’ll support you. I just think you need to be really careful about what you could be losing in the process.”

“I can’t lose him. I never had him.” Something tastes sour about those words. “I have to know, Lily. Don’t I have to know?”

She hums a bit, and I can feel she doesn’t wholeheartedly approve, but she also won’t stand in my way. Sometimes just knowing someone will support you in the trying is enough to add some courage.

“Okay, Lils, here’s what we’re going to do.” I can hear the smile from Lily on the other side of the line.

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