Page 49 of How to Write a Rom-Com

“Than your brother,” May answers in a serious tone.

“May,” I scold in a muffled voice. I pinch her arm.

“It’s common knowledge already, sweetie. Roll with the small-town punches,” May responds in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s true,” a deep voice agrees. I turn around and see Brett over my shoulder. Where did he come from?What’s with this town?!

“Brett, what—?” I start, getting whiplash from discovering all of the people circled around me.

“See?” May adds, smirking at me before walking away. I let out a loud sigh as I watch her switch from the calm demeanor she just had with me to loudly embrace someone on the deck.

“You kind of walked right into that one,” Brett says, winking at me.

“Yeah, I know,” I mumble, taking another sip of my sangria. “Hey, Brett, is your wife here?” I ask, looking around him.

“Nah, she’s working. She’s a nurse at the hospital in Catskill,” Brett explains with a shrug. “Have you had some food, Lucy?” he asks, gently nudging my shoulder.

“Why don’t you go grab us some snacks like the gentleman you are?” Jill intercedes, scrunching her nose at Brett.

“Girl thinks just because she babysat me, she can tell me what to do,” Brett says, shaking his head.

Jill rolls her eyes playfully. “Liam just went to grab more sliders for the grill, so I think you should get over there.” She winks.

“I am going to get something to eat, but because Iwantto, not because youtoldme to,” Brett teases, smirking at Jill.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself,” she deadpans. I can’t help but smile at their banter.

Jill takes a long sip of her beer before turning to face me. “Liam told me you guys have been spending a lot of time together,” Jill says, just as Liam rounds the corner with a large box in his hands. He smiles at me and I try to casually smile back, hoping not to draw Jill’s attention to it.

“We’re really just friends,” I say, trying to believe it myself. I did tell Liam at The Point that me being here is only temporary, but after last night, I feel like I need to repeat it.

Jill eyes me knowingly. “Look, I don’t want to sound too ‘big sister’ here, but I just hope you’ll be careful with Liam. I know you’re here on vacation—which is great—but you’ll be leaving soon, and Liam will still be here—”

“I understand,” I say, interrupting her. I turn to face her, so she can see the seriousness in my eyes. “I know Liam has been through a lot recently.”

Jill doesn’t respond right away. She looks past me, at Liam, who has Robbie in his arms and is spinning him around.

“He has been through a lot,” Jill says, keeping her gaze on him. “You know, I’m older than him, but most of the time, it’shimtaking care ofme.”

“I guess sometimes it works out that way,” I say, stifling a laugh when Liam puts Robbie down and he falls to the ground immediately from dizziness.

“I wish I could do more for him,” Jill says, her eyes not meeting mine. “But he’s probably told you that I’ve had my own struggles the last few years.”

“Yes, and I am really sorry for everything you’ve been through,” I say, touching her arm.

“It’s not like things were great between us. He just couldn’t have chosen a worse time. I can’t even say I was heartbroken. I was just angry. I wasn’t sad for myself, honestly, I was sad for them,” she says, sighing. “They deserve so much more than that, than him.”

Liam is now busy spinning another kid around. Just watching them is making me dizzy. “Liam really made the transition as seamless as it could be for them,” Jill adds. She smiles at the scene of her brother surrounded by toddlers all begging to be spun around. “All while he was taking care of my mom, trying to keep my dad from drowning in grief, and running a business. It was very overwhelming for him.”

“I can only imagine,” I mumble, taking the last sip from my drink.

“But ever since you arrived, I’ve seen him smile more than I have in a long time,” she says, eyeing me knowingly. A pang of emotion seizes my chest. I’m not sure how to describe it—guilt, like I’ve been caught doing something wrong? Or the guilt that I’ve made an impact on this man who I’m lying to? Maybe both. Definitely both.

“My mom had these flowers on our windowsill when we were growing up,” Jill starts. I shift to face her again, seeing that her gaze is somewhere in the distance. I try to hide the confusion on my face, because I’m not sure where she is going with this.

“I don’t know what they were called, but they had really long, straight stems and gentle, purple petals on the flower. She wasn’t a gardener by any stretch of the imagination. She tried to plant herbs every year, but they never lasted for more than a few weeks.” A soft laugh escapes her lips. I can tell she’s picturing the scene in her mind, her mom bent over in the garden, maybe on a hot day like today. Her eyes don’t look sad at all. Her lips perk up at the corners, and I smile along with her.

“But these awkward-looking, lanky things held on foryears,” she continues. “They were so resilient. No matter how much she tried to kill them, unintentionally, of course, they hung on. I mean, she kept them in the corner of the living room where literallyno lightcould get to them. But they reached for it anyway. It kind of creeped me out sometimes, how I would look at them and they were in one position, and then a few hours later they were leaning to reach for the sliver of sun on the wall behind them.

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