If You Stay (Beautifully Broken, #1)(51)

I sip at it and the thick, creamy chocolate slides down my throat like pudding.

“Holy cow, that’s good,” I tell her. “You’ve got a winner.”

She tries to grab it back, but I yank it away. “Not on your life.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Now what was it that you wanted to look for today? I forget.”

I take my coat off. “I just wanted to browse through mom’s memento drawer. I’m feeling a bit sentimental and I miss them. So I thought I’d look through her trinkets.”

Madison looks at me sympathetically. “I know how you feel. I was like that last week. I miss them so much.”

Her eyes turn watery, but she moves away, toward the kitchen. Madison isn’t much of a crier. She waves her hand. “You know where to find it. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

She leaves me alone and I pad down the hall to our parent’s bedroom. Even though it’s the master bedroom, Maddy couldn’t bring herself to clean it out and sleep in there. She’s kept her old bedroom, keeping mom and dad’s exactly as it was.

As I walk in, it is so quiet that it seems almost reverent. If I close my eyes, I try to pretend that I can smell my mom’s perfume lingering here. But of course I can’t. They died several years ago. Her scent is long gone.

But her memories aren’t.

I slide open the top drawer of her dresser and pull it out, carrying it to the bed. As I sit on the flowered bedspread, I can remember so many afternoons after school spent in here with her, sitting on the bed as she readied for work at The Hill. She’d sit at her vanity and curl her hair, spritz on perfume and talk with me about my day.

God, I miss her.

I sift through the pictures in her drawer first. They are in informal stacks, held together with old rubber-bands. Black and white ones from her youth, faded ones from mine. My favorite picture is here, the one of my dad and I both holding up huge fish that we’d caught in Lake Michigan on one perfect summer day. I was eight years old and had a chocolate mustache and he’s wearing his floppy fishing hat.

I smile at the memory.

That was a really good day. Mom and Maddy had sat on the beach because they were squeamish about the fish and bait. Dad had slugged me on the shoulder and we had fished for hours. I had felt so important because I had a strong-stomach and could be his companion.

I put it back in the pile and replace the worn rubber band.

I finger through old love letters from my father to her, and even old letters from my grandmother. My mother kept everything and was a sentimental at heart. At times like this, I’m so thankful for that.

As I move the drawer, I hear a rolling sound. I feel around and find a ring in the corner. It’s a wide band made from rose-colored gold and on the inside, Love Never Fails is inscribed. My chest tightens. I remember this ring. It was mom’s original wedding ring. She had to stop wearing it after she had Maddy because it became too small. And then Daddy had gotten her a fancy diamond and she started wearing that instead.

But now, holding this simple ring in my hand, I feel buoyed somehow. Love never fails. What a strong sentiment. Just holding the cool metal in my hand makes me feel good, connected to my parents somehow. I slip it onto the ring finger of my right hand. It’s a perfect fit.

I slide the drawer back into the dresser and find Maddy in the kitchen.

“Do you mind if I keep this?” I ask her, holding out my hand. “It’s mom’s original wedding band.”

Maddy shakes her head. “Of course not. You gave me her diamond. It’s only fair.” She smiles at me now with her best big-sister grin and I can’t help but give her a hug.

“I love you, you know,” I tell her as we settle into her kitchen chairs, our elbows propped on the table. “Mom and dad would be really proud of you.”

She smiles at me again and sips her chocolate. “Thank you. They’d be proud of you, too. They always were.”

I lean into her and try to steal her cup and she slaps my hand away.

“How many of those have you had, anyway?” I demand jokingly. “Surely you can spare one cup for me.”

“I already did,” she answers. “And I’ve probably had enough. But can you ever really have too much chocolate?” She waggles her eyebrows and laughs and we chat for what seems like forever.

After we talk about The Hill, Tony, my shop, Madison’s new car and the dog that she is thinking of getting, she turns to me and looks thoughtful.

“How are things with Pax?”

I roll my eyes. “As if you care.”

“I do,” she insists. “I’m still worried, but I’m less worried now than I was. He seems to make you happy. And I really do want you to be happy, little sis.”

She wraps her slender arm around my shoulder and squeezes. I sniff at her.

“Did you put deodorant on today? Because you kind of smell.”

We giggle and she slugs me and all feels right in the world.

We sit in her kitchen and talk until dark.





[page]Chapter Eighteen


My phone buzzes. As I pick it up, I notice that it is 7:05 p.m.

Crap. I was supposed to meet Pax at 7:00. Time got away from me.

Sure enough, I glance at the text and it is from him.

Hey, Miss Tardy. Didn’t we have a date tonight?