Page 81 of Wish You Would

I blinked rapidly, clearing the tears away, before I looked back up. “We’ve all got damage. Show me one single person in this world that doesn’t, and I’ll show you a liar.”

Anya nodded. “Fair, fair.” She pulled her wine glass to her and twisted the stem. “I…I don’t want you to get hurt, is all.”

I stared across the table, her words pinging around in my brain like a pinball machine. “Okay,” I started, “I appreciate your concern. Really, I do. But I’ve already got an overprotective parent who kept me from making decisions for myself for too long. I don’t need another.”

At that, Anya winced. I’d have felt bad if I weren’t so mad. We were both quiet for a long, awkward moment, until Anya finally spoke again.

“Parks,” she started, her tone careful, like she was tiptoeing through a field of landmines. “I love Gigi. Really, I do. But I also understand her. Maybe better than she understands herself. And…she hasn’t dealt with her baggage yet.” She brought her wine to her lips, but she didn’t drink. Putting it back down, she spoke again. “I’m worried about you getting involved with someone who’s still running.”

I frowned, her words lighting up neurons in my brain so quickly I couldn’t make sense of them.

Seeing the confusion on my face, Anya went on. “I was just like her last year. Fucked up and insisting I was fine, even while I bounced from place to place, living out of a duffel bag, never settling in. I was a mess, but I swore I was okay.” She shook her head, lost in thoughts of her past. “I hurt people because I was not ready to face my fucked-up-ness.” Her eyes met mine, glittering like emeralds. “I hurt you, and I hurt Vaughn. And so many other people who were trying to love me.”

I reached across the table and laid my hand over her free one. “It’s okay, though, you’re here now, and—”

“I don’t want to see you get hurt, Parks.” Her eyes flashed with fire. She turned her hand over and gripped mine tight. “Getting involved with Gigi…it’s a risk. And I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I inhaled sharply, the air stinging my lungs. Looking at my sister, the earnestness on her face, her fingers squeezing mine, my brain spun. She was right. I knew she was. The question was: did that change anything? Did it change what I felt for Gigi, or sever the invisible string that tied my heart to hers?

I didn’t have to think about the answer.

I squeezed my sister’s hand back. “I love you so, so much for looking out for me,” I started as I pulled my hand away. “But the truth is, getting involved with anyone is a risk. Anytime you open your heart to another person, you’re taking a chance.” I smiled at her, my beautiful, brave sister who, less than a year ago, was a virtual stranger. Now? Now, she was my best friend. “I took a chance on you, Anya. And you, me. Look where it got us.”

She smiled—a tiny one, but it was there. “Point taken, kid.”

I took it as a sign to go on. Cradling my wine glass between my hands. “She isn’t what I thought I wanted,” I murmured, watching the bubbles rise to the surface of the pink liquid. “But she’s everything I needed.” I lifted my gaze to meet Anya’s, a helpless smile on my face. “She’s flipped my whole world upside down, in the best way possible.”

Anya’s smile grew infinitesimally. “Been there.”

“She’s just…” I searched the space between us for the words, the best way to explain the magic of Gigi to the skeptic across from me. I didn’t need her approval. My heart had made its choice, and nothing my sister said was going to deter it.

“She’s smart and stubborn and sweet.” My heart swelled as I conjured up all the things I loved about this woman. “She’ll take care of you when you’ve had a long day, and she’ll step in to help wherever she’s needed.” I smiled softly, my mind a montage of the last couple months. “And, yeah, she’s got bad taste in TV, but that’s okay, because she’ll snuggle the heck out of you while you watch it with her.”

“You don’t have to sell me on her, Parks,” Anya cut in when I paused for breath. “I adore Gigi. You know I do. But—”

“I’m not done.”

She pressed her lips together, the words I’d interrupted flaring behind her eyes. I was on a time crunch. I could see it all over her face. Taking a deep breath, I pieced together my next words, then carefully laid them out on the table between us.

“You know more than anyone,” I started, “how hard it is to face everything you’ve spent forever running from. To ask for a second chance. But you did it, and look at you now.” I paused, looking her over, from her bright purple hair to the sharp set of her chin. “Don’t you think Gigi deserves that same chance?”

My question landed in the silence like a sonic boom. Her eyes burned with conflict. Her grip tightened on her wine glass, as if she wanted to squeeze me until I came to my senses. I held her gaze, hoping she saw the same stubborn steel in me that lived in her.

Finally, she nodded. “Okay. Point taken.” Lifting her wine glass, she shook her hair away from her face. “To second chances.”

33

33 GIGI

…BABY ONE MORE TIME

Before I knew it, we’d arrived at another ’90s night at Heathcliff’s. Patti Mayonnaise was setting up onstage, and I was doing every teensy, meaningless task I could think of to keep from joining them. My current meaningless task? Polishing the wine glasses that I’d already polished two hours ago.

Tailspin didn’t begin to describe how I’d felt the last few days. Between my conversation with Vaughn, and the revelation of Parker, there wasn’t a single moment of peace, of quiet in my brain.

Or in my heart.

Vaughn had handed me a permission slip. A Get Out of Jail Free card. Not that I thought of Heathcliff’s as jail, but it wasn’t the stage. It wasn’t music.

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