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  “You think he doesn't know, Bobby? He watched us grow up. He saw us kissing. He was at the wedding.”

  “So what?”

  “So … I just—I have to go back there no matter what. I am married to Rory. We are legally bound. You can just walk away whenever you want. The stakes are higher for me.”

  “You'd think I'd leave you behind?”

  “You did before, didn't you?”

  He sighed, arching his neck up. “Lil, it's different now. And yes, on paper you may be more bound to Rory, but he's my brother. He's my blood. He's the only immediate family I have left. The stakes are pretty high for me, too.”

  I looked out the window to the general store, where I had already felt the shunning of an adulteress, whether or not it was intentional. Bobby and I would have to go far, far away if we ever wanted a normal life. We would have to leave behind everything we knew. No one would accept us. Not my family or his. So much had changed in the last few years, but not this dilemma.

  “If I could press a button and stop loving you, I would,” Bobby proclaimed.

  Faced with the imaginary prospect of not loving Bobby, I went from needing to run back home, to wanting to stand my ground and defend my feelings for Bobby. “I wouldn't.”

  “Then I would do it for you. You would be so much happier if you didn't.”

  I looked out the window and shook my head in protest.

  “Listen, Lil,” Bobby placed his hand on my lap. “I was thinking this morning. I wanted to use the next couple of weeks to fix the place up. Do the things Rory has been too busy to do. And I wanted you to stay out here with me.”

  “But he's gonna call home.”

  “There's a pay phone right there. I can call his hotel, tell him the plans, tell him you'll be traveling up here to help most days. Because you will be helping.” He grinned.

  “You're signing me up for hard labor?” I joked.

  “You're pretty strong, Lil. I need someone to carry the lumber for me.”

  The doubt and fear was melting away with the warmth of Bobby's smile. The prospect was too tempting: Me and Bobby, alone for two weeks. No need to sneak or pretend. A literal fantasy come to life.

  “We could have at least some time together, Lil. Our time.”

  “And then what? What happens in two weeks?”

  “The future will be here. We'll figure it out then.” That was Bobby, he never looked ahead with fear. “Let's just live in these two weeks. Let's pretend when we got out of that attic everyone had gone and left the place to us. This time is a gift.”

  I pondered his argument for a second, though I already knew what my heart had decided. “I don't have any clothes with me. Just this dress.”

  “You won't need much to wear back at the house,” he smirked mischievously. “Besides, I am sure there's stuff in the closets.”

  “What about the Fourth of July cookout we were supposed to plan?”

  “We can do some of it from here. Why don't you call Barbie and ask for some help?”

  I looked up at him, unable to contain the smile that the demons of guilt tried to steal. “Should you call him, or should I?”

  Seven years earlier

  The women in the bridal suite giggled and laughed. Happiness was all around me, but it was not inside of me. Their sweet sounds were like the cackling of hens, and my head throbbed, an unrelenting thud that continued to persist and only became worse as the wedding hour came closer.

  “Lilly? Lilly?” My mother's voice was as faint as if I were drowning underwater. I rubbed my temples as I looked up. In the mirror was a girl who looked innocent and sweet, with apricot cheeks and blush pink lips, her long hair pinned up into a collection of swirls. But that girl was no longer innocent. She had lost that the night before when she truly realized that adulthood meant duty over desire. Loyalty over love. Her innocence was left on the bloodied nightgown stuffed at the bottom of the trash. “Honey, when do you want to put on the dress?” There was an hour left before I had to be by the lake, waiting to be walked down the aisle by my father. I was sick of being poked and prodded. I just needed to think. I needed silence. The thudding grew louder and harder.

  “Can everyone just be quiet?” I snapped. My sister and two cousins stopped their chatter instantly, looking over at me with confused expressions.

  “Mother, I can put the dress on myself. I have a headache and I just want to be alone. Can everyone just go down to the lake, please? I'll be down there when I'm ready.”

  The girls murmured to each other as they grabbed their things and shuffled out of the room. My mother bent over and laid a hand on my shoulder. “Lilly? Is everything okay?”

  “Yes. I promise. I just want to savor the moment alone, and I think the silence will rid me of the headache.” I watched her look of concern in the mirror as she hesitated before nodding. I wasn't the type to snap. I had taken the wedding in relative stride up until this point, perhaps because it wasn't the thing I wanted more than anything. So I gave myself permission to put my feelings first for a moment before I was about to put the feelings of my future husband before mine.

  “Okay. If you need anything . . .”

  “I'm all ready to go. I just have to slide on this dress,” I assured her.

  She nodded once more before leaving and closing the door behind her.

  The headache instantly dulled, but there was still an ache. And I knew why. I hadn't so much as caught a glimpse of Bobby since the attic, and I wondered what he was doing—if he thought that letting me do this was a mistake. I just wanted to see him one last time before I was Rory's forever. But there was no time. The area was spread out and I didn't know where he was or whose company he was in.

  I tried not to cry and ruin my bridal makeup, so instead I walked aimlessly around the room taking deep breaths to hold in the panic, hoping some magical escape would find me. Still restless, I plopped onto the vanity stool.

  I wasn't ready to put on the dress. That would make my fate too finite. I still held onto hope. There was still time for things to change. I looked over to my dress, hanging from the wardrobe door, its delicate ivory lace and satin shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. But to me, reaching for that gown felt like reaching for my own straightjacket. My eyes moved over to the veil. The finest handmade French lace, designed to sweep my shoulders. That seemed like an easier starting point. Less suffocating than the full body embrace of a gown. I reached for the box and opened it at the vanity. I pulled out the fabric, as thin and fragile as butterfly wings, and slid the comb into my hair. It cascaded down my nape. The lace caressing my shoulders should have felt reassuring, like a dear friend comforting me. But I felt each thread, each fiber, scraping against my soft skin like microscopic razors. Nothing felt right.

  No one imagines they'll wear a white on the saddest day of their life.

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  “I said I'd be there!” I shouted.

  “Lil. It's me,” Bobby's voice called from the other side.

  I ran to the door so fast I almost tripped, whipping it open. My smile met a serious face, as if he were preparing for a funeral rather than a wedding.

  I now saw Bobby through a new lens that I couldn’t remove. Even in this distressing moment, my mind took notes of how strikingly handsome he looked, dressed formally for the wedding.

  He cleared his throat. “Wow. You look . . . beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Uh, Rory asked me to personally deliver this,” he said, handing me a small box.

  “Oh.” I grabbed it out of his hands. “Come in.” I stepped aside as he stepped in just enough for me to close the door. He was trying so hard to be the good brother, I felt his restraint strangling him.

  I opened the box. Inside was a small card. It read:

  To my Lilly, the most beautiful flower in the meadow. I can't wait to meet you down the aisle.

  It was sweet and heartfelt. Those were the things about Rory I loved. He adored me. An
d I thought that was enough. Inside the box was a necklace with a lily charm at its center. It was pretty, but I didn't want to put it on. It would be another step closer to never having Bobby again.

  I looked up at Bobby as the necklace dangled from my fingers. He was leaning against the wall by the door, his arms and legs crossed as if he were trying to reign himself in. He was dressed in a grey morning suit, his normally tousled hair slicked back. He wouldn't look at me.

  “Bobby, I can't do this,” I muttered, my eyes brimming with tears.

  As if my words ripped off the shackles of his loyalty, he looked up at me and said soberly, “I don't want you to, Lil.”

  I placed the necklace on the vanity and walked up to him. “What are we gonna do?”

  Bobby scrunched his face. “This is all so messed up.” He riffled his fingers through his hair, ruining the style he had groomed for the wedding. “Listen. I couldn't stop thinking about it today. And you just left without saying anything. I thought you thought it was a mistake.”

  “No . . . never. I just couldn't say goodbye.”

  His eyes turned down as if he understood precisely what I meant. But then he looked back up with me, with the last bit of resolve he had left. “My grandparents each gave us rings. They're heirlooms. One on my mother's side, one my father's. They keep them here in a jewelry box. I grabbed the one that I was supposed to give to someone one day. I want you to have it.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, confused by the implications of this gesture.

  “Let's go. Let's get out of here. We can take a car and drive as far as we can go until there's no gas and then we'll call. We'll tell them the truth,” he said frantically.

  My heart soared and dipped over and over, realizing Bobby hadn't given up, but understanding that his words were that of desperation.

  “They'd probably disown us. We don't have money on hand.”

  “So what if they do? Lil, this is it. Once you go down that aisle, there is no coming back.”

  He pulled the ring out of his pocket. Rimmed with a gorgeous silver filigree, a pale apricot circular stone sat nestled in the center, encircled by tiny white diamonds.

  “I know, I know.” I shook my head. Everything was changing so fast and I just needed to breathe. I needed more time.

  “If you don't want to . . . if you love Rory more than me, understand I want you to stay. I won't ever hold it against you.”

  “No. I don't. Not even close.”

  “I just want you to know that. If there is anyone other than me I would want you to be with, it's him. Okay? But if you don't. If you want to go. I'll leave it all behind. We can travel. I'll support us. I'll fix cars, construction, whatever.”

  “I don't know,” I said. “This is crazy. I want to be with you, but I don't know if I can do this.”

  Bobby slid the ring on my finger. “It's yours no matter what,” he promised.

  “I love you, Bobby. I thought I could try to forget last night and go back to Rory. But, I can't.”

  Bobby pulled me to him by my waist, pressing me against him, and kissed me so hard that if I wasn't being held, I'd topple over. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

  “Don't go, Lil,” he pleaded, kissing my lips, my cheeks, my temple, as if this were the last time his lips might touch me.

  I reached down to the waistband of his pants. He grabbed my wrists and looked over his shoulder. “What if —”

  “I told them all to leave and not come back.” That was the truth, but secretly, I hoped someone would find us. That I wouldn't have to look Rory in the eyes and tell him. If there was a god, this would be the sign. Someone would find us and tell on us and we'd be shamed, but we'd be free.

  He brushed my veil off my shoulders, cupped my face in his hands and dipped lower to kiss me, drawing on my lips with gentle bites. I stumbled back to the vanity, knocking over the jewels and makeup which rested on it as Bobby hoisted me onto its surface. We rushed. Me hiking up my slip, Bobby undoing his trousers. No matter what our fate, there wasn't much time left before we would run or stay.

  Bobby locked his eyes on mine, something we were too shy to do the night before. Already things had grown between us. He pushed into me, as I grimaced in a mixture of pleasure and pain. I had only had sex twice before and I was still just as tight. I gripped the edges of the vanity as his shaft disappeared into me, and then I twined my arms around him as he did the same to me.

  The vanity rocked violently, shaking the few items that remained on its surface, including the necklace Rory sent. I watched as it slowly hopped to the edge and slipped to the floor.

  I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry out Bobby's name as he pistoned into me. Each time we had sex it got better, as I became a little more relaxed. The sensations this allowed me to feel forced me to break my stare with Bobby, so I could bury my face into his chest and bellow his name.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door. We tried to pull ourselves apart, but it flung open as we frantically decoupled. It was Julia. Simultaneously my prayers had been answered and my nightmares became a reality.

  Her eyes grew with shock, but in second her expression morphed into stone. If anything she seemed more exhausted than shocked.

  “Jules . . . I'm sorry,” Bobby panted, pushing himself back into his pants.

  She rolled her eyes, ignoring Bobby and making direct eye contact with me.

  “Wait, let me just explain,” I said.

  She shook her head disapprovingly. “Mom sent me to check on you and make sure you were okay. You need to get ready for the wedding. Both of you. I'll be waiting outside the door,” she said, closing it firmly.

  Summer 1957

  I wish I could say that those two weeks Bobby and I spent on the lake weren't everything I had hoped they might be. I wish I could tell you that we didn't take turns waking up before the other to make breakfast. That we didn't have a paint fight when I tried to touch up the living room walls. That we didn't clean his parent's bedroom and make it our own, pretending what it would be like to have a home together. That Bobby didn't fix up one of the old boats so we could anchor it in the middle of the lake to sunbathe and make love. That we didn't go for our midnight swims to cool off when it got too hot. That we didn't head back to Chicago to have dinner at Will and Sasha's place and stay up to the wee hours of the night talking about all kinds of things. Or that I didn't find a pair of Bobby's old overalls from when he was a teenager and wear them all week, barefoot, with my hair down and no makeup, feeling the most beautiful I had ever felt. That sweating alongside Bobby as we fixed up the lake house wasn't one of the most blissful experiences of my life. That on some nights we didn't just eat pie and beer for dinner and share stories about the years we had missed together.

  But it was. We did.

  Over the past few years, especially when I believed Bobby was gone, I told myself that my feelings weren't real. That they were something I had built up and made into some grand thing. That if I saw him again, I would realize it was pre-wedding anxiety that made the time we shared in the attic of the boathouse so intense. That not being able to have him made me love him. His absence. The forbidden fruit. That once I tasted the fruit again, it would have been long past its ripeness, and I would have known our time had passed.

  I tried as hard as I could to make that the reality when Bobby returned. Convince him and myself that our feelings had expired. But no, our feelings weren't fruit, they were wine. Stored and aged to perfection, so that now our maturity, pain, and our ability to express ourselves had only made the love richer, fuller.

  Our last day at the lake house was less playful. There was less laughter. A shadow of inevitability loomed over us. We understood we had to go back. Neither one of us was ready to hurt Rory, not at this level. Bobby had just reunited with his brother, whom he loved very much, and I would not make him choose. I had been Rory's wife for seven years, and we had built something together. Something imperfect and messy, but it was
something. And Bobby had left once before. If he wanted me to leave my life behind to be with him, he would have to be clear and committed. Two perfect weeks weren't enough to erase seven painful years. We had our time and hoped it might be enough.

  On our last perfect evening, I sat with Bobby on the porch swing, wrapped in his arms as he sat behind me.

  “How do we go back?” I asked him.

  “We just do,” he murmured into my hair. He sighed. “We just do.”

  “This isn't fair.”

  “It's not.”

  “When do we get our happiness? When has Rory had enough of it?” I demanded. “When do we stop caring what other people think?”

  “We'll know when.”

  “What if it's never?” I asked.

  He held me tighter. “It won't be never. I have to believe that. Just like I believed I'd see you again.”

  “When will you be okay with doing this to Rory?”

  “I don't know if I'll ever be okay with it,” he confessed. “I hate myself every day and yet, my love for you is stronger than that hate. When will you be okay with walking away from him?” He flipped the question on me.

  “I'm scared. I don't know why. I guess it's like when an animal has lived in a cage and you open the door and it won't crawl out. But being out here with you, I've had a taste of life outside the cage, and I don't know how long I can stay back in it.”

  “There's so much I want to show you, Lil,” he murmured into the back of my neck.

  “There's so much I want you to show me.” I nuzzled deeper into his arms. “This weekend will be hard. He'll be home and I have to pretend . . . like you mean nothing to me.”

  “I'll understand.”

  “Doesn't it drive you mad?”

  “I've had to deal with Rory having you for a long time now. There's no room for jealousy. I'd have lost my sanity a long time ago.” He kissed the top of my head, “Let's enjoy our time left. Tomorrow will come. And what will happen, will come.”

  Though we didn't have a plan, Bobby had a way of putting me at ease. I still felt like, somehow, this could all work out.