Wherever the Dandelion Falls (40 page)

Justine leaned back a bit. "At least she knows it was wrong."

"But how can she feel conflicted about it? She could have ruined Callie's career!"

Justine bit her lip, tilting her head. From the contemplative expression on her face, I could tell she was trying to give Faye the benefit of the doubt. I had no idea why. Faye didn't deserve the benefit of anyone's doubt after what she'd done.

Justine kept chewing her lip and nodding. "For someone as driven as Faye, it makes sense. Imagine if you
loved
your work. What would you be willing to do to feel that way?"

Begrudgingly, I tried to imagine not feeling weighted down the minute the alarm went off and I began my trudge to the office. I would be willing to do quite a few things to have a happier professional life. But selling out someone I cared about wasn't one of them.

It was quiet for a minute, and Justine seemed to understand that I wasn't going to answer her semi-rhetorical question.

"Look, I have no idea why Faye did that. Outing people isn't cool. But I hope you don't write her off because of it."

Surprised and somewhat appalled, I shot her a look that said as much. "Outing people for personal gain is
barbaric
," I said. "I'm not even mad about what she did to me, I'm just angry on principle."

Justine frowned. "What did she do to you?"

I sputtered in exasperation. "She didn't tell me the truth!"

"She told you tonight."

"Stop defending her!" I snapped.

Justine sighed. "Maybe I just want to believe there's more to it because you've been so happy since you started dating her."

"How can I keep dating someone who outs people?" I asked, squinting. "Could you date someone who did that?" I asked, challenging her to say she would. Justine wouldn't date someone with radically different views on anything she believed in.

But to my surprise, she gave a gentle shrug and stared right into my eyes as she said softly, "I guess it would depend on how strong my feelings were for that person." There was a moment of loaded silence before she said, "Don't give up someone you love just because it's not perfect."

Stunned by her use of the word
Love
, I sputtered for a minute before I went quiet again.

"Everyone's made mistakes, Riley," Justine said. Her voice was low and surprisingly unnerving.

"Why are you defending her?" I whined. "If a guy I was dating outed someone you'd be telling me to break up with him."

"Maybe so. But I feel like you're using this as an excuse to run away from her."

"What are you talking about?"

Justine squinted. "You always meet someone amazing and then find one flaw that you can't live with."

"No, I don't."

"Henry."

"He told the whole grad program I was easy!"

"Maggie."

"Incompatible."

"Sandra."

"Who?"

"That girl I set you up with two years ago."

"She-" I stumbled on that one. The girl in question had been wonderful, and Justine knew it. My voice was softened when I found words again. "She just wasn't right."

Justine clasped her hands in a gesture that wasn't threatening but wasn't nurturing either. "Uh huh."

Now I felt like Justine was trying to knock me over on purpose.

"Riley, you know I love you, right?" she asked, taking a gentle tough-love stance.

I crossed my arms and waited for her to continue.

"I hope you know that I'm saying this out of love: you have a hard time opening up to people. You're using something Faye did years ago as a reason to run away from something that scares you but could be really wonderful."

I took a breath, prepared to argue with Justine's theory, but I found myself coming up short. I didn't have a comeback for what she'd said.

"What she did was wrong, but if you sit down and look at all the pieces, you might see that you're letting your fear turn her black and white."

"She's Vietnamese."

Justine didn't buy into the joke.

"Whatever Faye did in the past, your feelings for her are going to scare you. If the look on your face every time you think of her tells me anything, your feelings for her are pretty strong. And if you think a sexy, smart, successful, and emotionally available woman who adores you is easy to come by, you're wrong and you know it."

Upset that Justine was trying to make Faye's bad behavior about me, I let out a frustrated sigh and stood up.

"I need to go to bed," I muttered. I picked up my purse and went into my room without saying goodnight.

I took off my clothes, crawled into my bed, and wrapped the covers around me. I drew them up high and thought about how Justine hadn't understood why I was so upset.

I reached for my phone and was unsurprised to see a long text from Faye.

I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I know it was wrong and I would never, ever do it again. I care about you so much and I hope you still want to see me.

I didn't know what to say in response that wouldn't come across incorrectly via text.

So instead, I pulled up the internet browser and typed
Callie Wilson outed
into the search bar. Articles and pictures of Callie's bright smile popped up linked to a myriad of gossip sites. The more I scrolled, the sadder I was for Callie, and the angrier I was at Faye.

Feeling my anger bubble up again, I let her message go unanswered as I set my phone back on my desk and turned out my light, drawing the covers over my shoulder as I turned to face the wall.

I thought I wouldn't sleep a wink with Faye on the other side of the door on my couch, but, to my surprise, I slept like a baby. I didn't dream, but I woke rested. I smiled before I even opened my eyes. I sat up and tiptoed to my door, hoping to catch a glimpse of her sleeping. I opened the door a crack, eyes falling to the couch where Faye should have been.

She was gone.

My stomach dropped as I realized Faye had bolted. I kicked myself. I should have said something about the kiss. Now she was freaked out about Isaiah
and
me.

But no sooner had my stomach dropped and my hand slid off the doorknob, I heard a shuffling in the kitchen, followed by a soft yelp. Then I saw Faye's purse where she'd dropped it by the door. My heart raced, realizing she hadn't left. I walked toward the kitchen, making my footsteps heavy enough to be heard, lest I frighten her. I decided my goal for the day was to frighten her as little as possible.

When I reached the doorway, my heart lurched into my throat. Faye was hovering over the stove with her back to me, wearing nothing but my t-shirt and a pair of black cotton panties. My mouth went dry and I had to force myself not gasp. I stared as she flipped something in the skillet before her.

I realized I needed to alert her to my presence before I was caught looking like a creeper. I cleared my throat. "Good morning." It sounded raspier than I wanted it to.

Faye whirled around, spatula sticking out towards me like a weapon.

"Hi!" Faye said in alarm. Her eyes were wide, but they quickly settled as she looked around her. "Sorry. Um, I'm trying to make breakfast, but I'm just making a mess."

I hadn't even noticed the mess in my kitchen. "That's okay."

Faye looked apologetic as she noticed a glob of raw egg running down the cabinet. "Isaiah always makes breakfast on the weekend."

Right. Faye usually had Sunday morning breakfast with her boyfriend. Her handsome, kind, male boyfriend.

"I can pour you some cereal if you're hungry right now," Faye said, stepping towards the cabinet.

"Okay," I said. Obviously I was capable of pouring my own cereal, but Faye was in such a frenzy, I didn't want to disrupt her.

Faye opened the cabinet as she said, "What kind?"

"I only have one kind."

"Right."

Faye opened a few more cupboards and found a bowl, pouring too much in and having to negotiate the rim of the bowl against the side of the box to return some of the contents inside. Then she opened the refrigerator and her eyes roamed for a few seconds before she found the milk. She poured it over the cereal and set the bowl in front of me.

"Thanks," I said, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

Faye turned back to the stove, and I tried to be quiet as I got up to get myself a spoon. I sat back down and imagined a scene like this, but in reverse, with Faye at the table and Isaiah standing over the stove, at ease in their weekend routine. The routine Isaiah wanted to last the rest of his life.

My heart sank, remembering the distraught look on Faye's face when she had arrived last night. She didn't look as helpless now, but she was still distressed. I wondered if Isaiah had thought about what he was doing before he proposed. Faye didn't like surprises at all.

I remembered the noon deadline for them to discuss their potential engagement and decided to offer to help her sort out her thoughts.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked, my words gentle as I brought a spoonful of cereal to my lips.

Faye turned around again, her energy spinning towards panic. "I don't know what came over me. Just
—
forget it. I don't go around kissing my friends." She turned back to the stove, ducking her head as she concentrated on the contents of the frying pan.

I was taken aback. I finished chewing before saying, "Oh."

There was a moment of silence as Faye purposefully flipped a pancake.

"But I meant Isaiah. Just wondering if you wanted to talk about that situation."

"Oh." The word was dry and fragile on Faye's tongue. "That."

Faye stayed still for a moment before slowly turning towards me, spatula unthreatening as it came to rest by her side. "Isaiah is a great guy."

I nodded and took another bite. If I was chewing, I'd be less likely to blurt out something crazy, and Faye would have space to think out loud.

"He's always been kind and thoughtful and a
total
gentleman," she stressed. "Any girl would be lucky to have him."

I kept nodding, chewing quicker to keep my mouth busy.

Faye's gaze fell to the ground, and her voice dropped to a whisper. "I just don't know if I want to
marry
him. How does anyone know if they want to marry someone?"

I took another huge bite to keep myself from saying something embarrassing.

I imagined that I would know I wanted to marry someone when I pictured our wedding; the way her eyelashes looked through her veil, the way she giggled softly as we entered our honeymoon suite. I imagined that I would know I wanted to marry someone when I pictured the way her black hair would be streaked with silver as she aged, growing more beautiful with every smile line and sunspot. I imagined I would know I wanted to marry someone when the idea of having sex with just one person for the rest of my life didn't feel limiting.

But I couldn't say any of that out loud because it was absolutely crazy.

So I settled for a version of it.

"Do you ever picture your wedding with him? Or what he'd look like as an old man?"

Faye paused, staring at the floor for a moment before she shook her head. "Never." There was another moment of silence as I took a bite. I didn't know how to tell Faye not to marry Isaiah without seeming selfish.

Faye sighed, bringing her hand to her face. "I can't even picture it when I try." Another pause. "I can't marry him, can I?"

I chewed to keep myself from shouting NO YOU CAN'T at the top of my lungs. I gave her a muted, sad smile around my bite and kept chewing.

Faye put her face in her hands, spatula pointing towards the ceiling. "I can't break his heart like that."

"He already knows you're uncertain," I pointed out.

Faye dropped her hands and looked at me, shaking her head. "He's an optimist. He's still hoping I'm skittish."

"You
are
skittish."