Good for You: A Novel (46)

“Wyatt? He’s no gentleman,” retorted Aly, but then she thought of the way he’d carried her up the stairs and put her to bed. “He’s not that bad, though,” she admitted. “Sometimes we talk about my brother. I’ve been having a rough time since he’s been gone.” It felt good to say this out loud—to stop pretending that there wasn’t a Luke-shaped hole in the center of her life.

“I’ll bet.” Mari gave Aly a quick sideways hug. “I said this before, but I really am sorry.”

“Me, too,” said Aly softly. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to get over this. I don’t really know how to feel good anymore, and it seems like that’s never going to change.”

“Probably. But maybe we’re not supposed to get over things like this. I should know—I lost my husband, José, last year.”

“Oh, Mari, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

Mari smiled sadly. “No wonder—we haven’t seen each other in ages. Point is, I get it. Everyone else acknowledges how bad it is at first, but then over time, they move on, and you’re still carrying around that heavy loss. I don’t know.” She looked out at the water, which was covered with tiny, green duckweed leaves. “Call me crazy, but I don’t really mind the weight. It reminds me of how much I love José.”

Love. Not loved. He was still real for her, just as Luke was for Aly. Her eyes welled with tears. This was the first comforting thing anyone had said to her since Luke had died.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, staring out at the river. Then Mari said, “So, anything happening between you and Wyatt?”

Aly laughed. “No way. We’re roommates for the time being—Luke left us both his house.” She sighed deeply. “I don’t know what my brother was thinking. He knew we didn’t get along.”

The corners of Mari’s lips turned up. “Maybe he was thinking you two would be good for each other.”

“He’s a cranky slob who wants to go wherever the wind blows him. He’s the opposite of good for me.”

“Is that so.”

Aly eyed Mari, who was still smiling to herself. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, nothing. Just, you know. Could’ve fooled me.”

“Even if he wanted to, and he doesn’t,” said Aly as Mari snorted in dissent, “we can’t be involved. I have plans to leave, and as Wyatt himself pointed out, it would ruin everything.”

“So you’ve discussed this.”

Aly blushed in response. “Maybe.”

“Aly, I know we haven’t seen each other in a while, but I remember how much you relied on your goals and plans. Sometimes what got you here won’t take you there, though. You know?”

Aly did not, in fact, know. But she didn’t want to disappoint Mari, so she nodded like she understood.

“Just leave a little space for spontaneity,” added Mari. “You might be pleasantly surprised by what happens when you let life happen to you.”





TWENTY-THREE


Spontaneity was for surprise parties and skinny-dipping—not living arrangements, and certainly not love. Mari was nuts, Aly decided as she drove home. It didn’t matter if she’d never steered Aly wrong in the past. Aly wasn’t the same person she was nearly two decades ago. Besides, Mari didn’t even know Wyatt!

As lovely as it had been to see her old counselor, Aly filed Mari’s advice in her mental wastebasket . . . right beside whatever she’d said to Meagan and Ashleigh. Because Aly knew one thing, and that was that she needed to focus on the big picture and not inconsequential distractions like Wyatt.

He was vacuuming the living room when she got home, but he quickly turned off the machine when he saw her. His shorts hung low on his hips, and he was wearing another one of the rags he called T-shirts.

“Vacuuming?” she asked as she approached. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing,” he said, wiping his brow on the back of his arm. “I’m just trying to chip in more.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.” He tilted his head and regarded her for a moment, then reached toward her face. Aly flinched, then stepped back, but it wasn’t until she saw Wyatt’s stunned expression that she realized what she’d done.

“There’s a leaf in your hair,” he said quietly. “I was just going to pull it out.”

Aly turned away, mortified. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I should’ve figured.”

“Aly.” His voice had dropped an octave. “Please look at me.”

“No, thanks,” she said, but after a moment she turned back toward him. When she did, his eyes were blazing.

“Don’t ever apologize for that.”

“For what?” she said flatly.

“You know, and so do I.” He put his hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. “I know your father was terrible to you, and I hate him for that,” he said after a moment. “If he ever dared to show up again, I’d run him out of town so fast he wouldn’t remember having been here. And don’t get me started on your mother.”

“My dad wasn’t that bad,” Aly said softly. She began mentally cataloguing his virtues, as she’d done many times over the years—because who wanted to hate their own father? Dan was always cracking jokes to make strangers laugh, and some of them seemed to think he was funny enough. And he’d liked to brag about how well she did in school. He’d sent her mother money after he took off, which had helped keep a roof over their heads.