One Tiny Lie (Ten Tiny Breaths, #2)(42)
It’s his brother, though, who turns around and says in that soft, raspy voice, “Do you want to sit with us, Lola?”
Eric scrambles to take the seat next to me, edging in a little closer, watching Lola like a hawk as she gingerly picks her way to the empty seat between him and Derek. “Feel my head, Lola,” he says, leaning forward to point his smooth scalp in her face.
Giggling, she shakes her head and folds her hands under her arms, recoiling slightly.
Derek doesn’t find it amusing, though, and glowers at his brother. “Stop telling people to touch your head.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s weird.” Derek’s eyes flicker over to Lola and the glower vanishes instantly. “Right, Lola?”
She just shrugs, her eyes flickering back and forth behind the two brothers, not saying anything.
Giving up on his attempt to impress Lola with his smooth scalp, Eric occupies himself with his picture, drawing a tank. His brother, though, slides a sheet forward and, holding out his box of crayons, offers, “Here, do you want to draw a picture with me?”
And that’s when it hits me. Derek has a crush on little Lola. I share a look with the middle-aged volunteer who trailed her here. She winks, confirming it.
The boys and Lola color for an hour straight, using up a stack of paper as they draw themselves as everything from a policeman to a werewolf to a scuba-diver to a rock star and the entire time, I can’t take my eyes off Derek as he dotes on Lola, helping her hold her crayon properly, drawing parts of her picture that are harder for a four-year-old than an almost-six-year-old.
I watch while my heart melts and aches at the same time.
At the end of the hour, when Lola’s volunteer reminds her that she needs her rest, Eric, who’s busy coloring the wheels on his dump truck, hollers, “’Bye, Lola!” Derek, though, takes the picture he drew of himself as the policeman and quietly gives it to Lola for her room.
And I have to turn away before they see the tears welling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Homesick
“Can you believe this?” Kacey’s chin settles on my shoulder from behind as we stare out onto the ocean together, our matching plum-colored silk bridesmaid dresses fluttering in the light breeze. “I still remember them going on their first date. Storm was petrified. And now here they are, getting married and having a baby.”
We turn in unison to look at the stunningly beautiful couple as the photographer captures them with the sun setting in the background. Storm may be six months pregnant, but other than the cute, round bump on her abdomen and her gigantic breasts—a product of raging hormones mixed with silicone implants—she looks exactly like she always has. A Barbie doll.
A Barbie doll who, along with her adorable little daughter, stumbled into our lives when we needed it most. It’s funny how some relationships can be so accidently forged and yet so perfectly matched. When Kacey and I took off to Miami, we ended up in a run-down apartment building, living next door to a bartender/entertainer and struggling single mom to a five-year-old girl. Storm and Mia. They welcomed us both into their lives without reservation, without apprehension. Because of that, I’ve never thought of them as neighbors or friends.
In some strange way, they’ve always been family.
All of them are, I admit, looking at the small crowd gathered after the sunset beach wedding outside our house. It’s the biggest mixed bag of people you could imagine—our old landlord, Tanner, as awkward as ever holding his date’s arm while he scratches his belly absently; Cain, the owner of the strip club where Storm and Kacey used to work, sipping on a glass of liquor as he watches Storm and Dan, a strange, proud smile touching his lips; Ben, the former bouncer at Penny’s who’s become a close friend to all of us, arm-in-arm with a cute blond lawyer from his firm. I have to admit, that’s a welcome sight, as he’s been dropping not-so-discreet hints about wanting to date me since the day I turned eighteen.
“I wish you were staying longer,” Kacey moans. “We’ve been so busy, we haven’t had a chance to talk. I feel like I don’t know what’s going on in your life anymore.”
That’s because you don’t, Kacey. I’ve told her nothing. It’s status quo as far as she’s concerned—school’s great, I’m great. Everything’s great. I’m not telling her the truth: that I’m just plain confused. I spent the plane ride down convincing myself that this will all blow over. I need to adjust, that’s all. And while I’m adjusting, I’m not taking any attention away from Storm and Dan’s day.
“Kacey!” Trent’s hands are cupped around his mouth as he calls my sister.
“Oh, gotta go!” She squeezes my elbow, a devilish grin curling her lips. “Make sure you’re back at the house in fifteen, for their first dance.” I watch her as she takes off, skipping barefoot through the sand toward a stunning Trent in his fitted tux. The first few times I met him, I couldn’t be in the same room as him without sweating profusely. But, at some point, he turned into nothing more than my sister’s goofy soul mate. And right now, they’re up to something. I’m not sure exactly what, but by the whispers I’ve caught, it involves a bottle of champagne, the silver stage hoop from Penny’s that Storm used to use in her “act,” and an embarrassing video montage of the happy couple.