Page 168 of A Dead Girl's Guide to Living
My head was hardly on the road as we threaded our way toward San Marino, where Liv had told us Jedd lived. No—I was still back on that Ferris wheel, holding the hands of a stranger who knew exactly how twisted my soul was and had gently unworked every knot and loop until I melted into a weightless puddle.
Thirty years.
She had gone thirty years with the heart of a virtual stranger, I doubt her deceased heart’s owner had appeared in front of her. That was thirty years of mornings and birthdays that had never been promised. Thirty years of exciting days and boring days. Days filled with fun and laughter, and others filled with chores and monotony.
I had hardly ever let myself imagine a number so large for my own life.
I had always felt as if my life were bracketed by expiration dates and color-coded pill cases. That I had to be on my own, protecting people from the fallout that was the never-ending bad luck of my existence. But there was something so jarring about seeing that woman, about being in that moment.
What were the odds of someone who had gone through something I had, stepping into that car?
Something unlatched in my chest, and the weight I had been carrying, which had far outweighed the scar and was heavier than the fear that had dictated so much of my life, shifted. It wasn’t gone; I didn’t think it ever would be, but it was lighter.
Because maybe I didn’t have to die young.
Maybe I could picturemorenow, and mean it.
Dove lounged in the seat beside me as I drove, her hand rifling through a bag of candy she had bought at the pier, her space buns losing some of their tightness and falling in that charming way they always did after too much wind. Liv, of course, sat close in the seat behind us, her knees bouncing against the back of Dove’s chair, fingers drumming on her thighs as her eyes stayed locked on the GPS pin moving across my phone, guiding me to an address in San Marino.
“So, he’s rich,” Dove murmured as we hit it, her voice uninterested as we ventured farther into the suburb.
And look, I had seen money before—I had gone to enough hospital donor events—but this felt like something else entirely. The streets were wide and elegant, shaded by arches of massive sycamore trees. The manicured lawns looked more like green velvet than actual grass.
Houses sprawled majestically, looking more like something out of a movie than places ordinary people would live in.
Mediterranean villas stood out on the proud lawns, with their red tile roofs, broken up by what looked like colonial revivals, proud columns supporting the facades, and a mass ofhigh hedges with wrought-iron gates, a curated perfection of privacy.
“Can ghosts throw up?” Liv asked with a groan, pressing her hand to her head.
“Let’s not find out,” Dove muttered, leaning away and half turning to face her. “It’s going to be okay, all right? Sure, it might get a little hairy in the beginning—trying to explain, you know, things—but then we’ll be fine.”
“Hmph,” Liv muttered, letting her head fall against the back of the seat.
I turned down a street and realized we were heading into a cul-de-sac. The red pin marked the address, and I blinked as I slowed the car in front of a pale stucco house with impressive balconies and a perfectly trimmed bougainvillea climbing up its side.
A large boat sat tucked behind the house, down a long drive, half visible past the imposing gate.
I cleared my throat and looked to Dove, who raised her brows and then glanced back at Liv.
“Liv,” she murmured. “If you aren’t ready… we don’t have to do this yet.”
“Yes,” Liv snapped quickly, lifting her head. “I do. I have to. Just—just give me a second, okay?”
We sat in silence while Liv gathered herself in the back. I would never fully understand what this moment meant for her. She would be a step closer to passing on—or so we thought—but she hadn’t seen Jedd since that awful night. She had only recently realized he wasalive, after he finally texted Dove back.
“Okay,” Liv said, clearing her throat. “Text him. Tell him you’re outside the house.”
Dove nodded once and grabbed her phone. I watched as she tapped out a message, noticing how her finger hesitated over thesend button before she finally hit it. I was reminded just how much this moment meant for her, too.
Jedd was supposed to be helping with Margaret’s ashes.
“Done,” Dove said, looking up. Her eyes caught mine, and I gave her a small smile.
“Now we wait,” Liv said, relief coating her voice. “Hopefully alongtime.”
Ding!
I raised a brow at Dove, and she glanced down.
