Page 53 of Roses in Summer

“Hmm,” Rafe hums, internalizing my words.

That nonresponse triggers me, and I let everything out. “Before she came, Lincoln and I spoke, really spoke. For the first time in years. It was—he was—it just—” I cut myself off, shaking my head at my stumbling of words. “He looked good. Great. But he has a girlfriend, and for some reason, seeing him with someone hurt.”

“You can’t help how you feel, Ser,” my brother says in a resigned voice, as though he knows the exact way I’m feeling. It’s that tone that has me swallowing the words about my interaction with Lincoln in Ava’s kitchen, how he seemed ready to tell me something before I continuously interrupted him, and Bianca stormed in.

Drawing my lips under my teeth, I weigh my words before responding. “I tried to put him from my mind, and this interview helped, you know? But I can’t deny that I’ve thought of him this week,” I confess. “A lot, if I’m honest. Part of me wants to text him to see if his old number is still the one he uses, but a bigger part of me is disgusted with myself for even thinking about that when he has a girlfriend. Does that make me a monster?”

“No, Ser. But you still shouldn’t do it. I understand how you feel, but from what I know about Lincoln from Ava, he’s living with his long-time girlfriend. I know you had feelings for him, but that’s not fair to you or to him when he’s with someone else.”

My shoulders deflate, and I feel disgusted with myself for even contemplating the thought. “I know. You’re right.” My voice is a whisper that holds all the self-loathing I feel. My previous good mood, brought about by the job in the library, has evaporated, and in its place is this hollow feeling.

The full scope of what Rafe just said registers. “Wait—you knew about Lincoln’s girlfriend? I assumed Ava did when I met Gemma, but how did you know?”

“We all knew, Seraphina. We all have social media. But…” He clears his throat in preparation for the bomb he’s about to drop. “But every time we brought up Lincoln, you acted like you didn’t want to hear about him, much less talk about how he has a girlfriend. No one said anything because any time we did, you either left the room or blocked us out because you were too miserable to hear about him.”

“Oh,” I squeak. I can’t be mad at my siblings; I know that rationally. But even so, an irrational seed of anger plants inside me, and I do everything I can not to act on it. It would have been nice to prepare with that knowledge.

“Listen, Ser. I need to get back to work. There’s a case I’m working on, and I need to meet with my partner to talk about some of the field notes.”

“Right, right. Sorry to call you during work.”

“Never apologize for that. You know we’re all here when you need us. Just be careful, and if you see Chris or anyone else again, call me immediately.”

“I promise,” I whisper, hanging up after a tense goodbye.

Shifting my car into drive, I put my blinker on and wait for the oncoming traffic to slow before I pull back onto the road and drift home, thoughts of the library, the past, and my uncertain future heavy in my mind.

20

Seraphina

Standing in front of my apartment, I tilt my head, considering my options.

With the music blaring on the other side of the door and the stomping of feet that trickles out, it’s easy to deduce that Bianca has people over. It’s also easy to guess that Olivia probably isn’t home because if she were, Bianca would be dead before she allowed strangers to invade our private space.

Pulling out my phone, I work to figure out my best friend’s location before I even bother entering the fray.

Seraphina: Are you home?

Instinctually, I know she’s not, but I need to make sure.

Livvy: Absolutely not. Bianca said she invited her friends over after their video thing before going out tonight, and I decided to pick up an extra shift at the bar. How was the interview?

Seraphina: You’ve worked every night this week. I would have stayed in or gone out with you. And I got the position. I start next month.

I can’t help but frown at my best friend. In the three weeks we’ve shared the apartment, I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve had any real best-friend time. If I were a paranoid person, I’d assume she was avoiding me. Since I’m a realistic person, I know she’s avoiding me.

I just can’t figure out why.

Seraphina: I can come by the bar tonight and keep you company while you serve drinks? I’ll bring you a coffee and some food. What do you want?

Her reply is instant and confirms my belief.

Livvy: I’m not surprised. They’d be nuts not to hire you. And no, we’re slammed, and I won’t have time to talk. Go out with B or see if Ava is free. We’re going to your parents tomorrow anyway. We’ll hang out then.

Bringing my thumb to my mouth, I bite at the nail, a disgusting habit I’ve had since childhood that seems to be reappearing more and more frequently since moving to West Elm. Part of me dreads dinner at my parents, knowing that I’m going to have to tell them about Chris and also knowing that their reaction won’t be good. But another part of me feels peace because I’ll be able to check on my garden, a hobby I fell into when I needed an elective at Penn and chose an intro to botany course. It was cathartic, playing in the soil, and when I first came back from Penn, Liv and I stayed at my parents’ house before the lease to the apartment was ready. My mother’s little garden transformed into a greenhouse, and for the month we were there, I spent nearly every day tending to the vegetables and flowers, practicing the same habits I learned in my class. I checked on my roses two weeks ago but haven’t had an opportunity to since.

Shaking my head to rid myself of thoughts of my roses and vegetables, I consider Liv’s text, growing more confused by her actions.

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