Page 51 of The First Love Myth

Dad blushes brighter than the day I first asked to buy tampons. “I see Anna’s been telling stories.”

There’s a teasing in his voice and in the look Anna gives back to him that I wish Liz could see. Cecilia’s too angry to appreciate it, but it might give Liz some much-needed perspective. Patrick and Anna Reid may have been divorced for nearly two decades, but they are still connected in some cosmic way.

I knew this in the smallest of ways. The yearly card Anna sent for my birthday. The gift from her under the Christmas tree. The infrequent-yet-significant outings that I desperately needed a woman for but was too shy and ashamed to ask Becca’s mom for help. Liz was in college and then graduate school, flitting in and out of Ardena, always with an air of drama around her. She tried—Liz always tried—but it never seemed to work out.

“Can I meet her?” I ask with a grin. “Before I go back to school?”

“Of course, dear.” His face relaxes, and his smile, though tentative, is real. “Robin would like that, I think. She knows all about you—about all of you—but especially you.”

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen catches our attention. We can’t see Cecilia, only Liz, her shoulders hunched as she organizes the pastries.

“How could you do this?” Cecilia shrieks as if the apartment isn’t completely open concept and we can’t hear everything she says.

“I mean,” she continues, her voice getting quieter, “first you go to Dad—fucking Dad—when you leave Julian. And then you force Zoey on me this summer.”

I straighten at my name. What is she talking about? We barely interacted all summer.

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you did. You literally gave me no choice.”

Tears come without warning. They won’t stop no matter how often I dab at my eyes or how hard I jam my fists into them. There’s the story of my life in black and white. I knew it. I knew Cecilia wasn’t warming up to me, but there was that moment in Wildwood and then on the phone... But I was wrong. So wrong.

“Zo, come on.” Dad stands and extends his hand. “Let’s go home.”

My heart cracks at the words. Home. Dad has been home since I was two years old, but this summer I started to form another one. I don’t want to leave it. Tears blind me as I take his hand. My breath hitches in my throat. I force myself to calm down and dab at my face again. The room comes back into focus, and Liz stands in front of us, tears glistening on her own cheeks. Cecilia stands at the door, her purse slung over her shoulder. She stares at Liz, her hand on the doorknob, waiting. Whose side will Liz take?

“Please don’t go,” Liz says, her eyes fastened on mine.

The front door slams, and Cecilia is gone. Liz stares at the door but doesn’t move. I’m rooted in place, Dad’s hand the only thing keeping me upright. Liz picked me.

Anna stands, her chair creaking as she pushes it back. She brushes her hand across mine as she passes and places a hand on Liz’s shoulder. She looks between the two of us and finally gives a nod to Dad. “I’ll talk to her. I’m sorry. We knew she wouldn’t take it well, but this... I’m so sorry, girls.”

And then she’s gone too. My heart aches from Cecilia’s words, but it’s also full. I want to throw my arms around Liz and cry until I have no tears left.

“What now?” I ask, my voice scratchy.

“Now,” Liz says with a weak smile, “we eat pastries.”

Chapter 41

Cecilia

It takes ten minutes for the Uber to arrive. Liz never comes after me. My mom leaves a few minutes after me, and I think maybe I will get answers or an apology or something.

But she says, “You should know better,” then walks to her car.

There is one flight from Philadelphia to Chicago tonight. I book it, not caring about my actual return flight that I will have to cancel. I’m in no mood to deal with customer service of any kind.

After I pick up my carry-on from the hotel—thankfully, I barely had time to unpack—the Uber driver drops me off at the airport with a smile I can’t return. I tip extra for my mood. Security, boarding, even the flight, are a blur of rushing. I can’t calm my mind or my body after takeoff. What the hell was my sister thinking? And my mother... I close my eyes and try to focus on the playlist running on my mindfulness app. But no, my heart still races in rage and confusion and too much hurt.

The sky is dark by the time I land and climb into yet another Uber. It’s still warm despite the late hour, and I shuck off my plane cardigan as we pull into Evie’s lot. This day needs to end. Now. But the time stays resolutely on this side of tomorrow as I stare at my phone screen and its lack of messages from anyone. Fuck this day. I avoid slamming the door, but barely, and stalk toward Evie’s. Another excessive tip will be needed.

I yank open the door to Evie’s building, shutting out summer. Where is the key? Evie uses her key often, but I’ve rarely had the opportunity. The action feels foreign, and my fingers shake as I move past the store cards. Finally, I push the door open. Two heads swivel around to meet me. Evie’s dark curls and brown locks are pulled back in a braid. She’s with Layla. Neither wears an expression of welcome, but Evie’s annoyance quickly transitions into concern, while her best friend rolls their eyes, which is typical but completely infuriating after today. I focus on Evie. If I can get to my girlfriend, it’ll be better.

“Cee?” she asks, her eyes wary. “What are you doing here?”

Irritation bubbles under my rib cage. Why give me a key if I can’t stop by unannounced? I swallow back the retort because it’ll help nothing. I rotate my shoulders and take a breath instead.

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