Page 65 of Wandering Closer

Amber gives me a grateful nod, her shoulders easing as she sets down her purse. “I live for margaritas. What were you guys talking about?”

Michele’s smile brightens as she winks at me. “I love her already. I went on a date for the first time in… a while this weekend.”

Something in the way she says it makes me want to ask for details, but I won’t in front of Amber yet. Has she dated since Ethan? Surely she has gone on dates since high school, although Thoren did say that was her only love.

“What does he look like? Where did you go? Spill it.”

“He’s a short king, but the muscles on him are pristine. You can’t laugh at his name because it doesn’t fit him at all,” she eyes us both before continuing. “Oliver took me to the little Italian place down the road, but he’s going to cook for me this weekend.”

I can’t hold it back, the laugh bubbling out of me. “Oliver? Chele, that’s so cute. But I need a height reference because I am totally picturing Lord Farquaad.” Amber almost spits out her drink as she joins in on the laughter.

“He’s like 5 ’6 and built like Thoren,” she gives me a pointed look.

“Go girl, get you some,” Amber clinks her glass with Michele’s. “I’m assuming Thoren is the man you came into the shop with? Not that I was really looking, but…”

“But that man is hotter than sin,” Michele finishes for her. They both nod, and I beam with pride.

“He is, and I believe in museum rules, so look all you want.”

Our waiter comes over to bring us chips and takes our orders. We decided on a trio of appetizers to share and another pitcher of margaritas. I might have to leave my car and Uber home, but it’s worth it.

“How’s the book coming along?” Amber asks, around a sip of her drink.

“First draft is finished. I need to start on the next book while this one is in the first round of edits, but I feel like I should spend my time doing things for Thoren instead.”

“What do you mean?” Michele questions. “He brags to me all the time about all the things you do for him. He said the only time he cooks anymore is when you cook together or breakfast on the weekends. That man is obsessed with you already, you don’t need to do anything else.”

I swirl my chip through the queso, embarrassed I even brought it up. My mom’s words just won’t stop replaying in my head, and it’s taking a toll on me.

“Relationships should be 50/50. He found a lawyer for me, is housing me, fixing my bathroom, and is my safe space when all this crap boils over; which it does constantly. That’s on top of allthe little things that he does to care for me.” I bite my chip to give myself a moment.

“He makes my coffee just the way I like it every morning. There have been fresh purple flowers on his dresser and the dining room table, constantly, since I moved in. He draws me a bath every time he sees that I’m overwhelmed. He alternates between rubbing my feet and scratching my back every night that we watch movies. I got my period last week, and he came home with a heat pack because he didn’t have one and a bag of chocolates. I didn’t even tell him I got my period, he must have just seen the tampon box. What do I have to offer that man?”

Amber and Michele are wearing matching looks of empathy. Amber places her hand on mine, giving it a light squeeze. “Good relationships aren’t 50/50, Lily. Each person brings something different to the table, and neither person is going to be at their best all the time. I hardly know you, and I can see that you are selfless, kind, and have so much to offer. Just because you give in different ways doesn’t devalue you.”

“Get your shit ass parents out of your head,” Michele points her chip at me. “I know that’s what this is. You clean his house, fold his laundry, pack him lunches, and make him dinner. You take the time to do his favorite activities with him, take care of his dog who is his best friend, and make an effort to get to know his family. You brought peace and happiness back into his life. You, my dear, are everything he has ever wanted.”

I know they are right, but it’s hard to rewire what I have been told my whole life. Thoren and I both give each other everything that we have. He is everything that Tyler wasn’t and he shows me every day how cherished and appreciated I am. He turned the room he was saving for a nursery into an office for me, for god’s sake. I need to get over my own issues and think of something else.

“How’s your mom doing, Amber?”

“She’s doing okay. She’s not actually my mom, she’s my great-aunt. Jana’s been raising me since I was eleven, and she’s the only family I have left.”

“Well, shit,” Michele says. “What happened to her?”

“She had a stroke and has been in a rehab facility since. Total recovery isn’t a possibility, and she’s mostly bed bound now, but her mind is still sharp. It’s been rough. I only have one part-time worker at the store besides myself, so finding the time to run it and go visit her and deal with everything has sucked.”

“Jesus, Amber, you just let me whine about my boyfriend being too good of a man, and you’re going through all that. Do you have anyone else to help?” All of my problems feel a lot smaller, and I want to wrap her in a hug. I don’t have to start my next book right away, I can easily help out at the shop if she needs it.

“Nah, I’ve kind of always been an outsider here. It’s my own doing. I was angry at the world when I moved here, and in this small town, all the kids already knew each other. When they tried to be nice, I essentially told them to fuck off, and no one has really given me a chance since. I’ll figure it out. I always do.”

Michele is out of her chair in an instant, pulling Amber out of hers and wrapping her in a hug. “Get in here,” she motions to me as we all stand in the middle of the restaurant in an awkward group hug. “You have us now. I don’t listen when people tell me to fuck off, so I’ll still show up if you do.”

Amber subtly wipes at her eyes when we break apart and take our seats again. As I look at her, I see myself right after I got fired. I felt completely alone in the world, trying to figure out how to move forward. These people in this town have become my family, and I want her to have that, too.

“I’m stopping by next week,” I say, full of determination. “If you need help with any finances, I’m your girl. If not, you’re going to teach me how to work at the store. You don’t have to payme, but I will work at least one day a week so you get some time off. No arguments.”

Her eyes turn watery as she grabs my hand again. I may not have money rolling in from a prestigious career, but I can do this. I can be a friend, and give my love and my time freely to those who need it. I want friends that are real and true. That laugh and cry with you, and show up at the drop of a hat because you need it. Knowing I have those types of friends feels like I am one step further from the daughter my parents want, and one step closer to the woman I want to be.

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