Page 26 of For My Finale
Lilah brightened up at this. “I do like animals,” she said.
Blossom grinned. “Then maybe there’s hope for you yet,” she said.
A quarter of an hour later, Lilah left to go and do whatever it was that she filled her days with, hopefully not more screaming, and Ives slid into her seat at the counter, raising an eyebrow at Blossom. “So?”
“So what?”
Ives sighed. “You look like you’re spending a lot of time helping her.”
Blossom grinned. “You’re not jealous, are you? Because you know that you’re my BFF.”
“I hate that term,” Ives said. “And obviously I’m not jealous.” She grinned back. “No one could compete with me in the best friend stakes. I’m smart, beautiful, charming—”
“Modest,” added Blossom.
“It’s just… You do this sometimes,” said Ives. “Take in strays, want to look after people. You’re lovely and generous and I don’t know how you have the patience for it. But I don’t want you taken advantage of. What’s Lilah giving you in return for all of this?”
Blossom hesitated. “Nothing,” she admitted. “But that’s not the point.”
“Maybe it should be,” said Ives. “I’m not saying don’t help anyone, I’m just saying make sure that you look after yourself as well, eh?”
“I am.”
Ives raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because that sign has been up about Coffee-To-Go for five days now and you haven’t mentioned it once. I keep hoping that you’re going to come and cry on my shoulder, but it seems like you might just be ignoring it.”
Blossom forced herself to smile. “You’re worrying about nothing. I know you care and I love you for it, but it’s all going to work out.”
Ives looked doubtful at this. “Alright, alright. We’ll talk about the shop stuff later. Maybe over a bottle of wine. But this Lilah Paxton… Just be careful. She’s a spoiled movie star, Bloss, she’s here on a whim and she’ll be gone just as fast. Make sure you know what you’re doing, eh?”
Blossom nodded because maybe Ives was right and because, honestly, she knew that sometimes she needed to do a better job of looking after herself. Maybe Lilah would flit in and out of Bankton without a second thought. Maybe Blossom wasn’t important to her at all, maybe she was setting herself up for disappointment.
But just for now, it felt nice to help. Even if it led nowhere. Besides, it helped take her mind off other things. Things that were dark and horrible and that she really didn’t want to think about.
Chapter Eleven
Lilah sat on the floor of her living room, furiously stabbing at the remote control in her hand. She was certain, absolutely certain, that there had to be more channels hidden in there somewhere. Her TV in America had had over five hundred of the damn things. Here, she’d been able to find five. She glared at the screen, there had to be a secret there somewhere.
“Oh, come on,” she muttered, cycling through the channels again.
The picture flickered, and for a tantalizing moment there was the pixelated glimpse of something on the screen. Lilah thought she identified a nipple. Maybe not her preferred watching, but it would be a change from the endless round of cooking competitions and property renovations.
It was only a moment, though, then the picture disappeared. Lilah was in the middle of a lengthy string of very creative curses when someone knocked on her door.
She groaned, looking down at her pajamas. A slouchy designer hoodie that had once been bright white and was now a dingy cream, a pair of sweatpants, she was in no state for visitors. For a fleeting second, she considered pretending that she wasn’t home. But then another knock came, more insistent this time.
“Alright, alright,” she grumbled, dragging herself to her feet. “I swear to God, the English need to learn how to text, instead ofjust showing up on my doorstep like it’s 1884.”
She swung the door open to find Arty, looking as smug as ever, and Daisy, still hopped up on whatever it was she took and looking like she was buzzing too hard to hold down a conversation. Or maybe it was just excitement, Lilah couldn’t tell.
“I don’t need any parking,” said Lilah. “I’m returning the car.”
“Just as well that’s not what we’re here for,” Arty said. “May I?” And he strolled past her into the cottage without waiting for her to say a thing.
Daisy, to give her credit, hesitated for a second, her eyes wide as she peeked past Lilah into the cottage. “Oooo, fancy. Is that a designer rug?”
Lilah looked down at it. “It’s from Ikea,” she said. “There’s a label still on it.”
“But… like… has Anthony Hopkins ever stepped on it?” Daisy asked.
