Page 374 of The First Time
Blake is next to her, his fingers wrapped around a glass of whiskey, his attention on his mom.
She turns to us. "About time someone entertaining shows up." She looks to Lizzy. "You must be Kat's sister."
"Lizzy." She offers her hand.
Meryl shakes. "It's nice to meet you, sweetheart. You're just as pretty as Kat. Tell me there's some man desperate to scoop you up."
Lizzy laughs. "There have been a few."
"None good enough for your demanding older sister?" Meryl asks.
"How did you know?" Lizzy takes a seat. She turns to Meryl. Her expression gets bright. Animated. "None were good enough for me either. They're such… boys."
"And you want a man?" Meryl asks.
Lizzy nods.
"She's only eighteen," Blake says.
"But an old eighteen. Like you were." Meryl leans in to whisper in Lizzy's ear.
Lizzy laughs. She turns back to me. "I get it."
"Hmm?" Meryl asks.
"Why Kat was so… insistent about this… dinner." Lizzy pats the spot next to her. "She's been really excited for me to meet you."
"I've been excited too." Meryl takes a long sip of her wine. "Tell me, sweetheart. Are you an artist like your sister?"
Lizzy laughs. "No. I don't get art."
Meryl stage-whispers. "Me either."
"What's the deal with that one guy who does plaid paintings? I mean, those would look awesome on a skirt, but on the wall of a museum?" Lizzy shakes her head with distaste.
I can't help but smile. Even if Lizzy has no idea what she's talking about. The modernist movement—
"You look gorgeous." Blake's voice grabs my attention. He's staring into my eyes. "I've missed you."
"Me too. I've been busy." I take a seat next to my sister and look to Meryl. "College applications."
"Still?" Meryl plays with the stem of her wineglass.
"With art school, you need a portfolio. But nothing I draw feels good enough," I say.
"Her work is wonderful. She's underselling herself," Blake says.
"I haven't showed you anything." My cheeks flush.
"You leave your sketchbook open on the table. I see plenty when you're drawing." His voice is proud. He really does appreciate my skill.
But that only makes things more confusing.
He misses me. He wants the world for me. He's interested in my art.
And he's never going to love me.
It doesn't add up.
