Page 67 of The First Love Myth

“I know.” Liz bites her lip and looks at me with wide, guileless eyes. I’m not going to like whatever she says next. “Speaking of Dad and Zoey, I’m, uh, having dinner with them next week. Meeting Zoey’s new beau for the first time and Dad’s girlfriend. Any chance you might feel like coming back to New Jersey for a few days?”

“I highly doubt Zoey wants me intruding on her last days with all of you,” I say sharply. How could she after all I said? Plus, there is no way I’m going to that dinner. I can’t put on a show like Patrick Reid has three loving daughters for his girlfriend. I can’t act like I didn’t say mean things about him and Zoey, basically to their faces, or that my resentment didn’t end the one relationship I had in over a decade that mattered. I can’t pretend. It’s too much to ask.

“That’s not an answer,” Liz prods.

Why can’t my sister ever leave well enough alone?“I can’t keep flying across the country every few weeks, Liz.”

“Oh, come on. I’ll pay for your ticket.”

“Liz, no, I can’t.”

“Why?”

It’s the question I’ve been asking myself since Evie broke up with me. Why can’t I move past it all? Everyone else has. But how do you brush away all those years of pain and hurt? How do you sit down to dinner with the physical embodiment of the worst moment of your life? When any innocence you had leftvanished forever? The answer is simple. You do. People do it every day. Zoey talks to her mom. My mom helped my dad. But I don’t know how to get there. How to even want that.

I was happy this summer with Evie. Happy going all in. It was exhilarating and terrifying. I felt walls coming down. But that’s all gone now, and I’m vulnerable and unprotected, exactly what I spent all these years avoiding.

Liz grimaces at my lack of a response but acquiesces. “Think about it, okay?”

I imagine that I’ll be doing little else for the next three days and much longer than that. The only wall I have left is my stronghold. If I let it down, I’ll be defenseless. If I let it down, who will I even be?

Chapter 49

Liz

“You can’t push her like that, honey,” my mother says. Her tone holds little chastisement, but I still feel it across the line. “You know how your sister is.”

I shift the phone to my other ear. “Stubborn as a mule?”

I’m reorganizing the stack of books and magazines on the coffee table for the third time this morning. Coffee-table books were never my thing, but this table begged for one. The copy ofHumans of New Yorkmy mom gave me will have to suffice.

“You can’t undo seventeen years of anger with one dinner,” Mom continues, her tone even. She never takes sides. Somehow, she always toes the line. “Or even one summer.”

I sigh, a bit dramatically, because I can and because Cecilia. I pick up the latest edition ofTalentedthat Zoey left behind. “But she doesn’t even try, Mom.”

“She is trying. She never would’ve included your father and sister in a conversation about family before.”

True.But I can’t see a future where we can all come together without awkward silences and death stares, where I don’t have to watch my words in order not to offend my older sister or hurt my younger one. “Is it wrong that I don’t want my daughter growing up with this needless drama? You and Dad are friends, Mom! Finding that out, it’s like this whole new world opened up before me, and it seems infinitely easier.”

My mom sighs. “I am sorry I never told you. It seemed, well, I didn’t want to confuse your feelings at first, and then there never seemed a right time, and then when she was old enough, Zoey didn’t want you to like her because I did. She wanted your relationship to be organic sisterhood. I did try to show you the relationship, but perhaps you thought I was being polite.”

She pauses, and I can imagine her sitting at the breakfast nook, sipping a late-morning coffee, wringing her hands as she tries to find the right words that won’t betray either of her daughters.

“It’s not wrong to wish away the drama, Liz, but she’s allowed her feelings too.”

Toe, meet line. “I know. Anyway, I have to go, Mom. Jules will be here in a few minutes.”

“Right. Good luck, honey.”

I’m not sure luck is what I need, but I’ll take it. As soon as the call disconnects, my phone buzzes. I swear if Julian is running late, I’ll kill him. But it’s not Julian. No, the name on the screen sends a jolt of longing through me. Spencer. We haven’t spoken since that last time at Barnes & Noble. He’s respectful like that. I asked for space, and he gave it. I click to open the text.Hope the morning sickness has passed.Another one pops up.I miss you.And then a third.I needed to say it.

Today, of all days. There’s no rhyme or reason to it. It’s a random Monday, but he’s thinking about me. I press my eyes shut as pressure builds in my head. How do I answer? The truth? I miss him. I yearn for him. I dream about him. Silence? Ignorance? My fingers hover over the keys. I can’t text Spencer while Julian is on his way here. It’s unfair to both of them. I pocket my phone. Silence will have to do for now.

The doorbell rings, and I jump at the sound. I sit for an extra moment, composing myself, praying that when I see him I’ll have my answer. Both choices are a risk. Going back to himdoesn’t fix our marriage. It doesn’t erase Sheila or Spencer or the new knowledge we have about the holes in our picture-perfect story. Leaving him presents a hard road. Being a single mom never crossed my mind, and I can’t imagine it’s remotely easy. Even with family and a co-parent, those nights where the baby doesn’t sleep will be long and lonely.

I cross the short space to the door and count to five. It’ll be fine. Either way. My heart will know the way. It always has before. I open the door, and he’s there. I blink, but he looks the same as ever in a polo shirt, khaki shorts, and boat shoes. His hair is slightly too long, but his expression is bright and his smile big. Did this summer not happen to him?

“Babe!” He pulls me into a hug before I can stop him.

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