Page 97 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
—L
This time when I cry, I’m smiling.
“Oh wow,” Maren says.
For a minute I sit on the dingy garage floor and gaze at the lamp, Maren next to me, her arm wrapped around my waist. Despite the sweetness of Lewis’s gift, I’m still operating in this heartbroken daze, struggling to make sense of everything. Do I move on without him like I planned before he called to apologize? Do I give things between us another chance? But how can we make this work? Things were amazing when we were hiding away together in the house, but the moment the real world started creeping in, we fell apart. Even if we were to get past all that, there’s still the fact that we don’t even live in the same city. I don’t want to be with someone who’s gone half the time.
“I don’t know what to do,” I finally say.
Maren rests her head on my shoulder. “Wine,pansit, and Netflix can’t make this decision for you, but it’s a good way to distract yourself.”
A sad chuckle falls from my lips. Maren helps me up. I grab the lamp and follow her back into the house and set it on the end table next to the couch. I head into the kitchen, where we gather our glasses and plates, and then we plop down on the sofa. When she pulls up Netflix and starts to scroll through the options, I inhale sharply. There’s Lewis’s smiling face on the promo shot for the first season ofThe Best of It.
“Shit. Sorry.” Maren clicks on a random cooking show.
“It’s okay,” I murmur despite how thrown I am. “He’s a celebrity. I’m bound to see his face.”
She squeezes my hand as we watch a handsome French guy teach a group of amateur cooks about making chocolate. No matter how hard I try to focus on the screen, my mind floats back to Lewis.
I can’t deny just how much I still love him and want him. I even eye my phone sitting on the coffee table. I could unblock his number, call him right now, and tell him that I want him back. But I don’t move my hand from my lap to grab my phone. All I can do is stay cuddled on the couch, staring at the light dancing through the crystals, and sigh.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Harper
“Anak, the house looks so beautiful.”
I’ve lost track of the number of times someone has said that this evening. This time it’s Uncle Pedro.
I lean down to hug him where he’s sitting on the couch. “Thanks. It came together really well with Naomi helping me decorate.”
I hear Naomi in the kitchen asking Simon to watch the mini quiches in the oven before walking over to bring a glass of water to Uncle Pedro. “I just threw a bunch of pillows and paintings around,” she says. “Harper was the genius who spearheaded the entire remodel. All the glory goes to you, cuz.”
I pull her into a hug. Tonight I’m hosting my first gathering for family and friends to show them the completed renovation ofApongBernie andApongVivian’s house. My parents, Naomi’s parents, Uncle Pedro, a bunch of cousins, aunts, uncles, Maren, and Simon are all here.
Everyone is milling around the open space of the kitchen, dining room, and living room while eating and chatting. Dad walks over to kiss my cheek. “My brilliantanak.”
I laugh as he swipes the remote from the coffee table and immediately turns on the TV to search for the NBA game schedule for tonight.
Mom rolls her eyes at Dad while handing me a glass of wine. I take a long sip.
“Would it kill you to miss a game, Christian? We’re here to admire the beautiful job our daughter did at renovating your parents’ house, not gawk at a sports event.”
“Jules, you know it would absolutely kill me,” Dad says without taking his eyes off the TV. “Besides, I already saw everything.” He turns and smiles at me. “The house is amazing. It’s a dream come true to see it like this.”
I tell him thanks, taking in the heartened look in his eyes. When he turns right back to the TV, Mom moans at him, and I chuckle to myself. As my parents continue bickering in their typical good-natured way, I do a pass around the space, making sure everyone knows that there’s plenty of food on the kitchen island and counters and to eat as much as they can.
A minute later Mom walks over to me with a plate full of food and makes me sit at one of the bar stools. “Here. You’ve been such a great hostess running around checking on everyone, but you’re gonna pass out if you don’t eat. The only thing I’ve seen you ingest is three glasses of wine.”
“And half of Simon’s scotch.”
She frowns. “All the more reason to make you eat some food.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
I’ve just wolfed down twolumpiawhen I notice the concern on her face.
“It’s not too painful to hear everyone complimenting the house, is it?” she asks.
