Just about over you, p.18
Just About Over You, page 18
A beat ticks by. Then another.
“So what does it say?” He bobs up and down beside me.
“I got it!” I press my phone to my chest, unable to breathe momentarily.
There are thousands of students who go out for this internship, hundreds of thousands probably. I thought I’d be a long shot, that my work and effort were there but I didn’t have a prominent enough name or background.
“Yes!” Gannon scoops me up, twirling me around like we’re the leads in The Nutcracker or something. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You’re going to slay those Big Apple shelves!”
I giggle at his excitement and let mine run free as well as he spins me around until I’m dizzy. I can’t believe I’ll get to work in one of the most iconic libraries in the world. I can’t believe I’ll be living in New York City for the summer. Part of me is intimidated, but I know that Taya and Austin will be there. I know that I’ll be exploring a new place, and somewhere I might end up living.
I’m so happy I could burst into tears. The past couple of months have been so hard, and I’ve been tested on how much I can load onto my back. This feels like karma coming back to me.
But as he sets me down, something occurs to me.
Nothing is official yet, but I think I know what we’re both thinking. If he lands this TV show, he’ll be going to California. We don’t know when, but probably soon. And now that I know I’ll be interning at the New York City Public Library, I’ll be on the opposite coast.
Gannon seems to be thinking the same thing. “I’ll send you Nobu if you ship me Gray’s Papaya.”
Leaning into him, I inhale his scent. That minty, musky smell is so familiar to me, it might as well be my own perfume. Gannon is what I know, and being thousands of miles away from him will be torture.
“It feels like we just got together.” I pout.
I’m not usually one to look at the negatives, but I’ve been trained in it this past semester. Plus, I’m selfish when it comes to him. We only just fell in love or admitted it to each other.
“Hey, look at me.” He wraps his arms around my waist. “We still have an entire semester. We have all of winter break. And you might think you can get rid of me when you move to the big, bad Apple, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re going to go to the East Coast to live out your dream, and I’m going out West to pursue mine. That’s called growth, that’s called maturity. I’ve loved you from afar for ten years. I think I can do one summer of a long-distance relationship. Plus, we can have phone sex and how hot is that?”
His last sentence makes me smile through the sadness. “You’re shameless.”
“Only for you, baby.” He kisses me on the cheek. “But seriously, stop overthinking this. We’ll be fine. We’re in love, and we have months. And think of the places we can have sex in the New York library when I come visit. Jot them down when you find them in anticipation of my visit.”
“Is it just about sex for you?” I roll my eyes in good humor at him.
“When I watch you dance, yes. And when I touch you. And when you’re within twenty feet of me. So basically … yes.”
He swallows my laugh with his lips on mine. This moment feels like a bliss that’s a long time coming, and I wouldn’t want to share it with anyone but him.
33
Amelie
Snow falls outside the window, the fireplace is crackling, and Bing Crosby plays on my phone.
On the TV is a marathon of Elf, but Aunt Cher and I are pressed to the glass of the bay window in the living room.
“If you two don’t come away from there, your noses will get stuck a la Ralphie Parker.” Gannon chuckles at us.
“I just love a first snow. Especially on Christmas, it feels magical.” Aunt Cher sighs.
Reaching over, I grab her hand where it rests on the top of the couch. “Me too.”
She isn’t much better than when she was doing chemo, but her cheeks have a little color. She had enough energy to bake thumbprint cookies today and bring Christmas cards to the neighbors. And we basically just stayed in our pajamas all day eating sweets, baking pies, and watching tons of holiday movies.
It was perfect. And now it’s almost over. There is a weird feeling about the night of Christmas Day. All the festivities are over. There isn’t anything else to look forward to. The moment still has a little magic, but it’s mostly just heading toward business as usual. Honestly? No matter what day it is, the evening hours of Christmas Day are the worst Sunday scaries ever.
We spent the day alone until Gannon came over. I forbid him from spending last night and today with us, even though he tried to convince me. He claimed his siblings wouldn’t mind, but we both know that isn’t true. Gannon is a good brother, and he provides for them. I know that much. But being in his childhood home is hard for him. The younger kids know a mother who is mostly absent. Gannon has seen her at her worst, lived with her while she dragged him around the country. There have only been a couple of times where he’s gotten vulnerable enough to tell me of some of the worst situations they lived through, and I don’t blame him for being hesitant to be the caretaker for his family.
In the end, he agreed, but tonight he got the last word. Gannon insisted on staying the night, even though I said he should go home again. But I don’t really have a leg to stand on, and plus, I miss sleeping by his side. We’re never without each other at our Talcott house, and sleeping alone is strange now.
Christmas always makes me miss my parents, no matter how great Aunt Cher makes it. It’s been so long without them that I feel guilty when I can’t completely recall their faces. They were wonderful, the best kind of mother and father. Through the therapy I did after they passed, that Aunt Cher made me go to, I’ve learned to accept the grief, mourn it, and try to make peace with it. Obviously, it’s easier said than done. Most days I can wade through it, and be sad but thankful I have a good support system around me.
Nights like tonight, though? I wonder what they’d be doing? Maybe curled up on the couch together, watching Gannon and me? Mom loved to knit, maybe she would have given him a scarf. And Dad would pretend to do his overprotective thing, but secretly love that my boyfriend makes me so happy.
“All right, I’m going up.” Aunt Cher rises from the couch, and my attention diverts immediately to her.
I watch her arm shake and instantly begin to get up to help her. But Gannon cuts me off.
“On the arm of a gentleman, of course.” He takes her elbow and then winds her arm through his.
“My hero.” She blinks up at him, her lashes all but gone.
“I’ll get her settled. You relax,” he tells me, and I’m pretty sure he’s my hero, too.
“Love you, sweet pea.” Aunt Cher calls me the name she used to use when I was a little girl.
“Love you so much.” A knot of emotion clogs the middle of my throat.
“Now, Cherry, don’t get handsy with me,” Gannon teases her.
My aunt’s throaty laugh can be heard down the stairwell, and I slump back in both worry, wonder, and relief. I’ve been her primary caretaker when I’m here. While I would never give that up, and like to take care of her, it feels nice to get a break. What’s even sweeter is how Gannon is with her. Seeing him assist her, take her up to bed … it makes me want to burst into soulful tears.
The man I love has the best heart on the planet.
“She’s pretty much asleep.” He pulls me into him as he settles on the couch.
I watch the snow fall outside the window. “Thanks for bringing her up. She did a lot today, but it didn’t look like she was in much pain.”
We sit and watch the snow while he rubs my back over my sweater. It’s peaceful and content. I used to think that if we ever crossed the line into dating, things would get weird. But they haven’t. Actually, much the opposite. We are still best friends, but it’s more now. A deeper connection, a stronger sense of what the other person needs.
“I never gave you your present.” A large hand massages my shoulders, sending me into a trance.
I frown at him. “We don’t do presents.”
It’s always been a thing. We don’t really do gifts. Usually just food, or a trip to somewhere local we’ve been wanting to go.
“Yeah, well, now you’re my girlfriend. So that’s changing.” Gannon nods like it’s final.
“I didn’t get you anything.” Instantly, I feel guilty.
His lips hover over mine. “I think I know what I’d like, and you can give it to me later.”
A delicious shiver runs down my spine.
“But for now, open mine.” He hands me a rectangular package wrapped in bright green paper.
“Did Quinn wrap this for you? Looks way too good for you to have done it.”
Gannon presses a hand to his chest. “I’ll have you know … that the clerk at the store did it and I paid an extra two dollars for it.”
That makes me giggle. But when I open it, my jaw drops with an immediate gasp. “Oh my God, Gannon …”
Sitting in the box is a book that I’ve stared at thousands of times. It evokes so many memories, both good and bad, that my heart flashes from hot to cold and back again.
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, the book I’d been in the middle of reading when my parents died. That’s what Gannon got me.
“It’s a first edition.” His voice is quiet as he reaches out to cup my jaw. “I remember you holding on to this for dear life the day after the funeral, like the story could transport you to a different place. That’s always stuck with me. I want you to know that whatever tough times we face ahead, we’re facing them together. And when I physically can’t be with you, hold on to this. It’s gotten you through worse, and you’ve come out on the other side strong and resilient.”
“This is …” I can’t even form words, much less breathe.
It’s the single most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given me. It’s not big or flashy, although I could kill him for spending the money on a first edition. The sentimentality is something only he would know, and the truth behind what it means is something I’ve shared with him and only him.
“I love you.” A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. “How do I deserve you?”
“I ask myself that about you daily. Have been asking it for years.” He shrugs like he doesn’t understand it.
That’s something I love most: his humbleness. Not being able to see how supportive and wonderful he is makes him the best kind of man because he does it just to give love to others. He doesn’t care for those around him to boast about it, or be owed a favor in return.
“You’re so worthy.” Maybe if I keep repeating it, someday he’ll believe me.
Gannon kisses me just as Bing begins to sing “White Christmas.” Everything in the world is right.
34
Amelie
The As are filed, and I’m moving on to the last letter names that start with B when I get the phone call.
I hate sorting and re-shelving days. Where the students who work in the library have to go section by section to make sure every book is in the right spot so that our fellow students don’t have to go digging. You’d be surprised how much gets put out of place, even with our impeccable system already implemented.
The fiction sign looms overhead as I traverse the aisles, the books in my cart swaying against one another. Spring semester has started and I’m already itching for it to be over. I want to go to New York and start my internship. At the same time, the start of summer means leaving Gannon, if he’s going to Los Angeles. My mind is in limbo, and both my job and classes aren’t keeping my attention.
I don’t notice my phone ringing until I’m actually at the shelf I need to start with. When I pull it from my pocket, Aunt Cher’s name is flashing.
“Hey.” I smile into the phone as I pick up. “Did you call to keep me company while I do menial work tasks?”
“Not exactly.” Her voice borders on upset and is comprised of lingering bad news.
“What is it?” I detect her hesitancy immediately, even though we’re miles apart.
I should have known that she’d get her test results this week. But I’ve been so preoccupied with my own stupid personal life that I clearly forgot. My stomach instantly knots.
“My doctors say that the chemo helped, the tumor shrunk. But … they think it’s shrunk to a size that would be operable now. They want to schedule a surgery to go in and try to remove all of it.”
Breathing in through my nose, I try to regulate the air in my lungs. “Okay … okay. That’s kind of good news, right? I know it’s surgery, but if they could get all of the tumor …”
Aunt Cher sighs on the other end. “Yes, it could be considered positive news. I just … surgery is a big monster. It’ll be invasive, and there is no guarantee it’ll be successful. I will probably still have to do chemo after, and remission could be months or years down the line.”
“But you’re going to do it, right? You can’t not do it …” Panic seeps into my tone.
“Yes, I’m going to do it. There are just … other complications that come with it.”
Something dawns on me.
“The surgery, they’ll just take the tumor?” I’m waiting for the anvil to drop on my head, but I need to hear her say it.
“They’re going to remove my ovaries.” Aunt Cher’s voice wavers.
I know she’s trying to be strong, for me, but this is a devastating blow. I clutch my mouth so that she can’t hear the strangled cry I let out into my palm.
“Is there a way to save them?” I ask when I’m able to speak through the unshed tears.
I hear her shaking her head. “No, not if they want to get the whole tumor. And obviously I want that toxic thing out of my body. But everything comes with a price.”
“You’ll never be able to have children.” I state this like she doesn’t already know it, but I’m just so dumbfounded and shocked.
“Hey, stop that. I have a child. You have been the biggest blessing …” Aunt Cher chokes up and cuts herself off.
I drop to my knees in between the stacks, tears dripping onto my jeans as I silently sob. This isn’t fair, any of it. She’s healthy, she takes care of herself. Aunt Cher is a good fucking person, and I hate the world for cursing her with this. She doesn’t deserve any of it.
“But I’m going to fight. We’re going to fight. Hopefully, if this is successful, we’ll be counting down the days until my hair grows back.” Clearing her throat, I can hear her pulling herself together.
I nod my head like she can see me. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now, tell me how I can distract you from your menial tasks.”
She stays on the phone with me for close to an hour, talking about nothing and everything.
This surgery has to work. Because I can’t imagine what my world will be like without her.
35
Gannon
“I have Keith Wonderstone on the other line.”
Quinn’s excited hiss travels into my ear from the phone and lights up my entire body. “What’re you doing talking to me, then? Put him through!”
My calls are usually forwarded to her, or she gives her contact information so she can filter through the garbage.
“I wanted to give you an air of professionalism, dipshit.” I can hear my sister roll her eyes at me. “If this is about the pilot, you go get it. No hemming and hawing.”
“As if I’d turn down any chance.” I’m getting annoyed with every second she stays on the phone. “Put him through. And Quinn?”
“What?” she snaps.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” This wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for her.
The phone makes a clicking noise, and suddenly I’m on with Keith. “Keith, it’s good to hear from you.”
On the other end of the phone, people are bustling and talking, and I think I hear police sirens. “Gannon, I don’t have much time. We’re running this scene for the thousandth time and I’m pissed off … Morgan, get your ass to your mark!”
I pull my ear away as he yells.
“Anyway, the script I sent you, we’re ready to cast for the pilot. Did you read it?”
The words can’t come fast enough. “Yes, and I was immediately drawn to Kingston. I love the complexity of his character and really connect with—”
“We might already have someone we’re leaning toward for Kingston. But you can come read, and maybe we’ll find another role for you.”
Disappointment sinks my heart. I wasn’t anticipating that, but Hollywood is a harsh mistress. I don’t know what to say to that other than to fight for myself and why I should get the role of Kingston. But I’m a nobody, someone who will take scraps if they’re handed to him.
“Come, screen test for us. Worst we can do is reject you.” Keith’s tone is light and teasing.
He doesn’t have to convince me in the slightest. “I’ll be there. You say when.”
“Two days. We’ll fly you out tomorrow. My assistant will send all the details.”
Everything in me takes flight. My extremities are tingling, I’m so damn excited that I don’t notice Keith has just hung up the phone until I’m profusely thanking him and no one is there. A resolve sits in my gut. I’m still going to make them let me read for Kingston. They’ll see that I’m perfect for that role.
I race home from campus, praying I don’t get pulled over but also not slowing down. I have to tell Ams, she needs to be the first to hear.
“Amelie!” I shout as I walk into the house, my voice echoing.
“I think she’s upstairs. Came storming in and up a couple minutes ago,” Scott says from the couch.
He’s drinking a beer on a Monday afternoon, and his shirt has mysteriously left. I honestly don’t know how the guy manages to stay in academic standing to stay at Talcott. He barely goes to class.
The thing he said about Ams is peculiar, but I ignore it and take the stairs two at a time. “Amelie! You won’t believe what just happened …”
