Good for You: A Novel (68)

It took Aly several moments to respond. As she contemplated what her mother had said and what she wanted to say back to her, Cindy sat motionless on the edge of the coffee table, looking not unlike a defendant awaiting a verdict.

“Thank you,” Aly finally said.

“No, thank you,” Cindy said softly. She wiped her eyes, then stood. “How about I fix you some food?”

“Okay,” said Aly, not because she was hungry—she had a strong suspicion everything would taste like sawdust—but because Cindy was trying.

And if there was one thing Aly could appreciate, it was effort.

“I know you don’t want me to be here too long,” called Cindy from the kitchen, “but I don’t want you to be by yourself after I go. Can you call Wyatt, maybe patch things up?”

Aly had decided she’d been on the sofa long enough and moved over to the island. As she sat on one of the stools, she spotted a tiny sliver of blue tape at the edge of the granite countertop, which she must have missed when she’d peeled the rest off. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” she said, pulling the tape up with the edge of her nail.

“No, Allegra. Sorry—Aly,” Cindy corrected herself. She stood at the stove, stirring the eggs she’d just cracked in the pan. “That’s what I told myself all those years, that I was okay with it being just me against the world. But as my sponsor keeps reminding me, you always have a choice. We all have someone who will be there for us if we’d only ask them. So, my girl,” she said, her steely gray eyes trained on Aly, “don’t choose to be alone, okay?”





THIRTY-SIX


Cindy had made it sound like Aly had a choice. But as Aly stared at the ceiling later that night, listening for the sound of Wyatt even though she knew she wouldn’t hear the jangle of his keys or his footsteps on the stairs, she sure didn’t feel that way.

She supposed she could call him, or even text, but what would she say? I’m still so upset that you didn’t tell me the truth about my brother—but also, I accidentally fell for you, and now I see that I’ve ruined everything and understand if you won’t forgive me, because I certainly wouldn’t if I were in your shoes because I told you I was leaving anyway?

Yeah, no. She wasn’t doing that.

She tossed and turned throughout the night, and by five the next morning she was wide awake, even though it was still dark out. She got up and made coffee and puttered around the house, forcing herself to wait until seven—which was still only six in Chicago—to call Harry.

“I just had the weirdest dream about you,” he answered.

She smiled at the sound of his voice. “Was I submerged in a lake and Cindy was rescuing me from a semiaccidental drowning?”

“Um, no. You were a television news anchor, and you were sending me coded messages through the screen. But please tell me you’re joking about the whole semiaccidental drowning thing, because I haven’t had nearly enough espresso to deal with you being serious.”

“I’m joking? Except also I’m not.” And then she told him what had occurred—but only after she made him promise not to drive straight to Saugatuck the second she’d finished her story. “Well?” said Aly after she’d finished, because Harry had been too quiet for far too long.

“Oh, babe,” he said in a voice that immediately made her tear up. “I’m so sorry to hear that about Luke—and about Wyatt. And I am so proud of you for confronting your mother, although I may have to send Cindy a whole florist’s shop full of flowers for saving your life. Point being, I’m giving you the biggest telepathic hug that ever was right now. Can you feel it?”

She could. “I love you, Har.”

“I love you more. So forgive me when I say: Wake up!”

Aly jumped. “What?” Where was soft, sweet Harry, who loved her unconditionally and would never judge her?

“I’m not judging you,” he retorted.

She had to laugh. “I hate it when you read my mind.”

“Oh, I know you do. But as the person who loves you almost as much as the Wild Thing does—”

“Harry!” she interjected. “He doesn’t love me.”

“Let me finish, babe.”

“Fine.”

“You do know you’re still interrupting, right?”

She laughed again, and he continued. “I adore your brother, but I think it’s important to recognize that he put Wyatt in an impossible situation with this. On top of the whole leaving-the-house-to-you-both thing, he obviously must have known about his sister dying and could have at least guessed that this would be really, really hard for Wyatt—first he loses his sister, then his best friend?”

“I know,” said Aly. It had been a rare misstep for Luke. Then again, she didn’t have terminal cancer, and she was still making one screwup after another. And really, didn’t it come back to intent? She wished Luke had made different decisions, starting with telling her that he was sick.

But the fact remained that he had not, and still she knew he’d taken every one of his actions with love.

“I’m not saying Luke needed to predict the future,” said Harry, “but he must have known that this would be hard for Wyatt, and he still asked him to keep his trap shut. I think you should cut Wyatt some slack here.”