The Truth About Happily Ever After

  One by one, the children fill in the horses around me or occupy the canopied benches between rows of horses. I could be horrified, I decide, as I assess them, some with limp bodies, some with sallow skin, some with single strands of hair clinging persistently to their tiny, nearly bald heads. But I take Miller’s advice, I look them in the eye, and I realize he’s spot on. No matter what the condition of their bodies, their little eyes are so alive, by far the healthiest part of them. Their eyes remind me that at heart, they’re just like any other kids who want to enjoy the morning in the park, be enchanted in the presence of a princess.

  Just before the ride starts, Miller escorts a little girl to the horse that has been left empty beside me. “This is Kayla,” he tells me, still holding her hand. He smiles down at her. “And Kayla, this mare is all yours.”

  Miller lifts her gently onto the horse, and she turns to me, staring at me with huge glacier-blue eyes, her ears looking too big for her little bald head, which is wrapped in a cheery fuchsia-and-white floral scarf. “Are you the real Cinderella?” she whispers.

  I lift my chin, beaming at her. “Indeed I am. And it would be my honor and delight to ride beside you this morning.”

  The ride starts off, slowly, and Kayla’s beautiful face explodes in a smile.

  At the base of the ride, her mom is watching her, camera out, camera forgotten. Her mom is crying.

  I have to look away. I have to look away, or I know for sure I’ll lose it. So I sing instead. I sing Cinderella’s theme song, belting it out at the top of my lungs, inviting the children around me to join in the chorus.

  Miller holds onto a post nearby, smiling into the distance while still staying close. I’m not really sure if he’s keeping an eye on Kayla or keeping an eye on me.

  The ride lasts way longer than usual, the children treated to five times as many rotations as the average park-goer. When the extended ride is over, I wait for the children to be transported back to solid ground, and then I move through the line, posing for pictures, talking to the children. I ask them which princess they’re most excited about meeting; I ask them to tell me about the best part of their trip so far. Most of them answer quickly. “Everything.”

  I talk to the parents, too. I look them in the eye. I hug them, because God knows they need a hug, too. I tell them their children are beautiful, because they are. Some of the most beautiful children I’ve ever seen.

  During one of his runs back and forth to the carousel to haul equipment, Jake squeezes my side stealthily and whispers, “You’re doing a great job.”

  He’s doing a great job, too, of course, efficient and tireless and kind. But … I can’t help but notice how he barely even looks at the families as he assists them. He’s busy, sure, and hustling around like a man on a mission, and I understand it’s part of his philosophy to keep from getting upset. Still the same, there’s something about it that seems a bit off.

  He’s been doing this for a long time. Maybe it’s become too much of a job.

  Feelings are hard, but I’m not sure I’d ever want to turn mine off.

  And since I’m not the type to check out, I pull my attention away from my boyfriend and back to the end of the line of children waiting to meet me. Once I’ve greeted the last of them, one of the other volunteers offers up a second carousel ride for those who are interested, those who can get on easily. I hold Kayla’s hand as we board, but she tells me in a soft voice it’s okay if I ride next to someone else this time instead, causing my throat to tighten.

  I bend down to hug her a second time, noticing that her pierced ears are unadorned this morning. Reaching up, I fumble with the backs of my tiara earrings. I remove them one at a time, carefully affixing them to Kayla’s earlobes instead. “These are for you,” I whisper to her, my throat tightening. “Take them home with the rest of your happy memories.”

  She’s stunned, reaching up to touch them but stopping just before, as if she’s afraid she’ll find they’re not real after all. Her eyes are popping out of her head. “Really?”

  “Really.” I nod. “They look beautiful on you. More beautiful than they looked on me, anyway.”

  I glance around, this time hoping Jake’s not looking. Giving away a personal item to one of the children isn’t exactly in keeping with his philosophy. Plus, I know they were expensive. But in that moment, it feels like the right thing to do, and I’ll just have to explain myself later. I never thought I’d find myself in a situation where I’d part with those earrings, but meeting Kayla changed that.

  This second ride, every now and again, I glance out into the park, watching the parents pass by in a blur. One mom is wiping at her eyes, trying to hide the hurt while grinning like a maniac. One dad is sobbing unabashedly into the hem of his T-shirt. I feel my smile start to slip at the same time my throat starts bobbing, and I grit my teeth as I stare at the ceiling of the carousel.

  Please God, tell me we’re almost there.

  Tears hover on my lower lashes, ready to fall, until I realize that around me, the kids have broken into a spontaneous round of the EE theme song. Their smiles help mine stay in place.

  When the ride ends, I wait for them all to get situated, and as they head in the direction of the Palace for breakfast, I wave both hands overhead. “Good-bye, children! I’ll see you soon! Can’t wait to have breakfast with you!”

  Once they’re on their way, I stand as still as stone. I see the clock in the distance. Twelve minutes, I realize. Twelve minutes until you have to be put together and grinning anew inside the dining hall.

  Time is limited. When every one of them has moved beyond the crest of the hill, I dash in the opposite direction, hiding out in the alcove beside the Sleeping Beauty bathrooms. Then I promptly collapse in sobs.

  I wrap my arms around my torso, trying to hold myself up, or rather, trying to hold myself together, because it feels like my heart is being torn apart, and as it’s being ripped to pieces, it’s taking the rest of my body with it.

  What I could really use is someone to hold me together. I twist around helplessly, stomach dropping as my eyes fall on Jake’s back. It’s disappearing with the crowd, heading toward the Palace, as he pushes a wheelchair.

  He’s not here for you today, I remind myself. Be a grown-up.

  Be a grown-up, I repeat. Right before a fresh round of sobs rack my body.

  This sucks. God, sometimes life … sickness … it just sucks.

  Through watery eyes, someone emerging from the men’s room catches my attention. It’s Miller, head down, zipping up his pants. Momentarily, he looks embarrassed about being caught coming out of the bathroom, but then concern overtakes his face once he gets a good look at me.

  He doesn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug, pulling me close and running a hand along my back in comfort, shh-ing me. I don’t hesitate in collapsing against him.

  “Calm down,” he instructs me softly. “Take a deep breath.”

  I try. It doesn’t really help. I try again. And again. Then … I punch his arm. “You … said … it … would … be … okay,” I sob against his chest.

  He takes the hit without flinching. “You are okay,” he assures me. “You were more than okay. You were terrific with the kids, Lys. These are just stress tears, an adrenaline crash.” He tightens his arms around me again. “And you’re going to be okay.”

  I cry in his arms until the tears finally run dry, until my body collapses against his in fatigue instead of need, and I can begin breathing normally again. I settle into his embrace, which is as solid as ever, without any inclination to move.

  It occurs to me that Miller has hugged me plenty of times in the past few years. He’s thrown his arm around my shoulders more times than I can count, he’s wrapped me up in silly bear hugs and actually lifted me off the ground. But this is the first time Miller’s actually hugged me, and I’m surprised to find how entirely comfortable I feel wrapped up in his arms. Even knowing time is ticking by, it’s hard to step a
way. I linger a few extra seconds, then pull my body off his, abruptly and all at once, like a Band-Aid.

  “You’re a good friend,” I whisper, wiping my eyes and smiling sadly up at him. “Thanks for being you, ya know? I’m sorry I hit you.”

  It takes a second for Miller’s expression to clear when I step away from him. There’s something unreadable there before his eyes light and he says, “Again.”

  “What?”

  “‘I’m sorry I hit you again.’ Didn’t realize it was an actual habit of yours.”

  I giggle. “Oh, right. Sorry.” I rub my hands over my face again, patting my fingers under my eyes in a last-ditch effort to keep them from puffing up. I wave my hands in front of my face, run my index finger under both eyes to get rid of any trails of mascara. “I still have to go to the breakfast. Do I look okay?”

  Miller glances somewhere over my shoulder. “Yup. Always.”

  I squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry I hit you again. Thanks for helping me get it together.”

  He nods, and I gather my skirts and duck past him, hurrying toward the castle to find Jake and the rest of the group.

  chapter 10

  When the breakfast wraps, I head out, grateful I’m not on the schedule for my usual duties after such a taxing morning. Jake has to stay, but he asks me if I want to get sushi later, at the tiny, no-frills restaurant in Lakeside’s downtown. It was a favorite of ours last year, a place we haven’t been back to yet this summer. I’m thrilled he remembers it.

  The evening feels like some kind of celebration, so I take my time getting ready, spending nearly an hour on my hair and makeup, selecting what I think is one of my hottest outfits. I wriggle into my tightest white ankle jeans that I’ve paired with a flowy off-the-shoulder white top. I strap on heeled gold sandals and layer several gold necklaces around my neck. I remember my missing earrings and push my hair forward, hoping Jake won’t notice their absence.

  Jake comes into the apartment without my hearing him, and he finds me in my room, dousing myself with Clinique Happy as a final touch. He comes up behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, and puts his chin on my bare shoulder. “You look hot tonight.”

  I smile at his reflection. “As do you.”

  He’s not wearing his glasses, his hair is expertly gelled, and there’s just the right amount of scruff along his jaw. He has on Sperrys, khaki shorts, and a button-down shirt over a slate blue tee.

  We would make really, really cute babies, I allow myself to think for three seconds. Maybe four.

  “I’m starving.” He plants a quick kiss on my shoulder before stepping toward the door. “Let’s go eat.”

  It’s a pretty evening, and we walk hand in hand to Bluefin. Well, he walks. I hobble.

  “Those shoes are the worst,” he complains.

  I shrug, ignoring the way the straps cut painfully into my skin. “Fashion over function, babe.”

  He grins down at me. “Did you really just say that?”

  “It’s true! At least for girls, anyway.”

  Jake shakes his head at me, and we make our way down the center block of the downtown area. I’m smiling at the familiar banter, which there hasn’t been much of lately. I decide I’m officially forgiven for falling asleep during the video. I lift my chin. I did good today.

  Dinner feels just like old times. Jake tilts his head back and catches the edamame I toss to him like a trainer to a dolphin. We steal bites off each other’s plates without asking. We talk about things both silly and serious, and never once does conversation feel stilted. And by the time our check is dropped, the pressure in my chest has lessened.

  Jake adds the tip to the receipt and signs his name quickly, closing the shiny black folder with a snap. His foot nudges mine under the table. “You ready?”

  “Yeah.”

  He leans toward me. “Let’s go home.”

  A spark lights within me at his words, the look in his eyes as they meet mine. Tonight, I can feel his attraction toward me, and it feels more than obligatory.

  So I stand in a hurry, eager to get home.

  Jake’s hand is on my back as he leads me toward the lobby, and I’m feeling like his again. As we near the doorway, I sneak a glance at him, flirting, expecting him to glance back at me in return. But he doesn’t, his focus elsewhere. I’m looking at Jake, and Jake is looking at … a hot girl in a punch-colored dress.

  My eyes widen when I realize it’s Harper. They nearly pop out of my head when I see who she’s with. Kellen. Wearing white linen pants and mirrored shades, inside. Definitely Kellen. And what?

  They don’t see us until we’re practically on top of them. Harper turns quickly, dropping her clutch, and she and Jake almost bang foreheads when they both reach down at the same time to pick it up. Jake reaches it before she does, and she accepts it from him without a thank-you.

  “Oh my God. Alyssa. Jake.” Harper smooths her hair back and swallows hard. She gives an awkward little wave. “Hi.”

  Kellen steps forward, all swagger, to offer Jake a casual handshake and “What’s up, man,” and I seize the opportunity to give Harper a quick hug. “You caved? You actually said ‘yes’?” I hiss into her ear.

  I’m half joking, but all Harper can offer me in return is a terse little smile, tugging on the hem of her short skirt. “I just thought … maybe I should … give it a try. Just, you know, give something different a try.”

  I sneak a glance at the guys, who are still making small talk, and warn her under my breath, “Just stay in public tonight, all right? I’ve heard he can get kind of aggressive.”

  She nods without looking at me, eyes darting over to the guys. She seems really tense, and I hope I’m not out-and-out scaring her.

  The hostess is staring at our group, impatience obvious, and Harper steps away from me. “We should … probably go.”

  Kellen grins at us. “We should. I’m in the middle of selling her on staying down south rather than heading back to Philly at the end of the summer.” He rolls his eyes. “Pssh. Law school. Who needs it, right? You can’t beat the weather down here.” He gives a quick wave, puts his hand near Harper’s rear, and they’re gone.

  My stomach turns, and the pressure reannounces itself in my chest, full force.

  Heading back to Philly?

  Jake and I step out onto the sidewalk and I squint at the blinding rays of the sinking Florida sun, feeling off-kilter.

  I reach for Jake’s hand, hoping to recapture the natural, easy vibe from just moments ago. I pretend I’m not faking it. “So that was weird!” I make a face at him.

  But he’s looking dead ahead, stride purposeful. “What do you mean?”

  “Harper. Kellen. Odd pairing, no?”

  Jake tucks his chin. He shakes his head. “Yeah … who knows.”

  So much for easy conversation. So much for any conversation. We both make some halfhearted attempts at small talk as we walk, but the sense of connection I felt during dinner is gone. The pressure in my chest is coagulating, forming itself into a question. And by the time we climb the steps and make it to my door, it insists on being asked.

  I pause, key in hand, pressing it against the chipped green paint of my door.

  Still staring at the key, the question’s out of my mouth before I even rehearse it in my head. “Did you know Harper from before? From Philly?”

  Just as quickly, I regret asking. Because if the answer is yes, it means someone is lying. In some way. And the reason for lying is likely something I don’t want to know about.

  Jake looks semishocked. “No. No! I swear I didn’t meet her until this summer. Why would you—”

  I stand there still, thinking, bothered, pressing the key into the soft skin of my palm. “I don’t know,” I interrupt him. I shrug. “It’s just this weird feeling. Like … I don’t know … like you two know each other. Like you knew each other. Before you were ever introduced.” I run my hand through my hair, frustrated, hating this. “It just always feels weird. With you two.” br />
  Jake doesn’t answer for a few seconds. Then he looks me in the eye. “I promise you I only met her this summer.”

  Silence settles over us. I can’t look at him. I just keep staring at my palm, the dent the key is leaving in my flesh, my hair falling in a curtain over my face.

  Then I feel Jake’s hands brushing my hair out of the way. His lips find my neck.

  “Honestly, Lys … why are we talking about other people?” he asks hoarsely. “Or thinking about them? All these questions from you … please don’t.” He kisses me again. “Are you going to let me in sometime tonight or what?”

  The key finds the doorknob, and the door falls open before me with a simple twist.

  I let him in. I don’t want to think about or talk about other people anymore, either. So I lead him into the bedroom at once, craving him in a way I never have, desperately, to block everything else out. I make Jake reassure me physically in a way his words couldn’t quite do.

  chapter 11

  Last summer, over the course of the many hours Jake and I spent together lying atop my bed or between its sheets, we’d watched the entirety of seasons one through four of The Blacklist on Netflix. We’d made a deal before season five premiered in early October—we wouldn’t watch, and when we reunited this summer, we’d binge watch and get caught up together.

  I may have cheated a tiny bit. Turns out Lauren “E” had a thing for Ryan Eggold, so every Thursday at nine, The Blacklist was on in the Zeta house. Typically I got home from my shift at the boutique right at nine o’clock, and well … it was just so tempting to plop down on the couch with the rest of them. And Ryan Eggold is cute. With those glasses, he has a little bit of a Jake thing going on.

  The real Jake has no idea, and weeknights when he comes over to my apartment, we’ve been slowly but surely catching up.

  “All the cool kids actually watch Netflix and chill,” he informs me with a smirk as he points the remote at the screen and navigates to the right episode. “Where’d we leave off? Episode five?”