“Thank you, Pia.”
Mom sniffled and shook her head. “I don’t want to ruin your birthday and get all emotional. So let me just give you your gifts.” She turned around, took two wrapped boxes off the kitchen counter, and handed them to Lily. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”
Lily thanked her and opened the first one. Her eyes lit up as she found a big set of expensive oil paints she always visited in the store. “Thank you so much. I’ve wanted these for so long. But they’re so expensive. You shouldn’t have.”
“Grant told me how much you admired them.”
She opened the second box—stationery with Lily imprinted on it and lilies wrapped around her name.
She ran her finger across the top. “This is beautiful.”
“I figured you could use it to write to Grant when he goes away to college.”
Lily’s eyes jumped to me, but then she smiled at Mom. “Thank you. It’s perfect. I really love it.”
Four years ago, when Lily moved back in with her mom the first time, she’d told me she would write to me every day we couldn’t be together. I’d thought she was exaggerating, but the last time I counted, I had over five hundred letters. Some days she sent me three or four pages about her day, other days she’d just write a few sentences, and sometimes I’d get a poem or a picture she’d drawn. But she never missed a day. So the stationery was a great idea, though she wouldn’t be using it when I went away to college. I’d decided to stay home. Yet another thing neither Lily nor I had mentioned to my mom yet.
I looked at my watch. “You ready to get going?”
“I am.”
“You two be careful,” Mom said. She turned to Lily. “Enjoy your visit with your mom.”
If today was anything like most days with Rose, there was about a fifty-fifty shot of that happening.
***
A psychiatric center might be a hospital, but it’s a hell of a lot different than the place you go when someone has a baby or something, or at least this one was. The white walls were bare, with no cheerful art or framed pictures to soften the hardness of the environment. Since the floor we were visiting at Crescent Psychiatric Hospital was an adult-only wing, everyone was dressed casually, mostly in street clothes. But a few people were milling around in pajamas, even though it was the middle of the day.
Rose, Lily’s mother, wasn’t in the activity center or any of the common areas. We found her in her room, lying in bed in the fetal position with her eyes open. Her big belly was really showing now. Three months ago when she was admitted, we’d found out Rose was four months pregnant. She’d been in the midst of a manic episode then, rambling on about all the plans she and the baby’s father had. Though as far as I knew, the mystery man who had gotten her pregnant had never shown his face even once to check on her since her admission. And something told me he never would.
Rose’s eyes acknowledged us as we walked in, but she didn’t move.
“Mom, how are you?”
Lily went to sit down on the bed. She brushed her mom’s hair back the same way I’d seen my mom do to my sisters a hundred times.
Rose mumbled something incoherent.
Lily leaned down and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Your hair is nice and soft. Did you wash it today?”
More incoherent babbling, yet Lily went on like they were having an actual conversation.
“Look, Grant’s with me.” She pointed to where I stood near the door, and her mom’s eyes followed along for a few seconds, but then Rose went right back to staring into space.
I wasn’t sure what kind of drugs they were giving her, but she was only slightly more alert than catatonic. Or maybe they weren’t giving her any. She was pregnant, after all.
Lily got up, went around to the other side of her bed, and climbed in behind her mom to snuggle her. “I missed you.”
I blinked a few times as the scene before me brought back a flash of a memory. About six months ago, Lily had been sad when her mom hadn’t called or shown up for their scheduled weekly visit again. After waiting all day on Sunday, Lily had climbed into bed and spent a few days there…lying in the fetal position. I’d thought she was just sulking and sad, and I had done my best to cheer her up—including spending hours snuggled in bed behind her, a lot like she was doing to her mother now.
That thought made me antsy. “I’m going to go for a walk—give you two some time alone.”
Lily nodded.
I grabbed my jacket and opened the door, but I glanced back over my shoulder one more time before leaving. A fucked-up feeling settled into my chest as I thought how much the two of them looked like Lily and me had a while back.
Except Lily just had a lot to deal with. She wasn’t sick like her mom.
Chapter 15
* * *
Ireland
I was so damn nervous.
Grant’s boat was only a twenty-minute drive from my apartment, but I wanted to pick up something to bring with me, so I’d left an hour early. The liquor store pit stop only ate up a few minutes, so I arrived at the marina almost a half-hour before I was supposed to. I gave my name to the attendant at the booth, and he pointed out one of Grant’s assigned spots. I could see down the long dock that led to where his boat was parked. There was a flurry of activity, people coming and going to their boats, and chairs set up where people sat on the dock and chatted with their neighbors.
It seemed like a friendly community, and it made me wonder why Grant didn’t bring dates down here. His boat was impressive, and the setting was definitely made for romance. I made a mental note to dig deeper into the no-dates-on-the-boat zone, and I pulled down the mirror to check my makeup. When I flicked it back up, I saw Grant outside on the back of his boat. He was dressed casually, in a pair of shorts with an untucked short-sleeve button up and sunglasses. When he hopped over the back transom, I saw he had no shoes on.
An older man walked over to talk to him, and it gave me the chance to observe him outside of a work setting. God, he was sexy. I’d always had a thing for a man in a well-fitted suit. The way they wore them gave off an air of power, but looking down the dock, I realized the suit had nothing to do with the air Grant Lexington gave off. He stood casually talking to the gentleman, yet there was something about the way he held himself—his feet planted wide, broad shoulders back, arms folded across his chest. The man oozed confidence even with bare feet. With some guys, a good suit made the man. Not Grant. He made the suit.
I watched for a few minutes more while he finished his conversation with the man. Then he tightened some ropes and carried out a set of portable stairs and set them on the dock. The next time he went into the cabin, I took a deep breath and got out of the car.
His boat was docked next to last, probably thirty boats down at the far end of the marina. I’d made it about ten when he emerged from the cabin again. He caught sight of me right away and stood watching me make my way toward him. I became self-conscious about each step. And whatever nerves had settled in the car came back with a roar. Though I wouldn’t let him see me stress. So I straightened my spine and added a little bounce to my walk that I knew would make the bottom of my sundress shimmy from side to side.