Better With You (Better Love 2)

“You are too, Tal. Thank you for being such a great friend through all of this. I don’t know how I would have handled the last year and a half without you.”

“Well, that’s good, because you’re never getting rid of me. We’re family.”

Talia waves goodbye as the elevator doors close, then I turn on my heel and head into the house. Mom’s been moved to her bed for the night, so I head toward her room and knock on the door. She’s sitting on the bed with her back propped against the headboard, and my father is in the chair by her bedside.

“Alex, you’re back,” my mom says, her voice tired and concerned. “I was worried. Is Bailey alright? She took off so quickly.”

“She’s upset with me, Maman. But I’m going to fix it.” I move my attention to my father. “Dad, can I have a few minutes alone with Mom?”

“Of course,” he stands and sets the book he must have been reading to her on the bedside table. “Come get me when you’re finished.” He pats me on the shoulder on his way out, and I take over his spot in the chair.

I take my mother’s hand in mine and bring her palm to my cheek. It’s something she used to do a lot when I was growing up—place her palm on my cheek and then caress my face with her thumb—and it’s one of the little things that I will miss the most.

“I have something to tell you.”

“Alright,” she says, and I feel her thumb brush gently over my cheek. “What is wrong, mon étoile?”

“I haven’t been honest with you lately. About Talia and me.”

She’s quiet, her eyes searching my face, but there’s no judgment in them. No anger. Just concern and love.

“Talia and I aren’t engaged anymore,” I say into her palm. “We haven’t been for a while.”

“For how long?” she asks, and I swallow my guilt.

“About a year now.” Her eyes flutter shut and my heart clenches in my chest. This is what I wanted to avoid. This look on her face.

“And you lied for me.” It’s a statement, not a question. “Because you didn’t want to disappoint me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” I clarify. “I know how happy you were when Talia and I got engaged. You were so excited about finally having a daughter. I didn’t want to take that from you.”

“Oh, mon étoile,” she shuts her eyes again, and I watch as a tear falls down her face. “I want you to be happy. I would never want you to put your life on hold for me.” My mom opens her eyes and hits me with a look so full of love that it’s almost painful. “I want you to be true to your heart, my love.”

“I know that now.” I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry for lying to you for so long. I’m so sorry, Mom.”

“And Bailey?” she asks, and I blink at her sudden segue. “She is who your heart wants.”

“Elle est ma lumière, Maman,” I say earnestly, and she nods, a small smile on her lips. “Mon étoile Polaire.”

“She is lovely,” she says, and rubs my cheek with her thumb. “You do light up around her. You glow.”

“I’m in love with her.”

“And now she is angry with you. Because you were dishonest.”

“Yes.” A few more tears trickle down her face, and I wipe them away gently with my fingers.

“Then I cannot forgive you,” she whispers, and my heart plummets. “Not until you make things right with Bailey.” Her eyes shimmer with tears, but her lips quirk up into another soft smile. “You know how much I love romance, Alex.”

I laugh at the mischief in her tone, and my smile brightens.

“It’s the French in you.”

“You are French, too. Do not forget,” she scolds playfully, and I feel her fingers twitch slightly on my face. “Go,” she says sternly. “Bring me a love story worthy of your blood. Make it worthy of song and story. That you will tell your children. Bring me a romance that will live long after I am gone.”

“Je t’aime, Maman,” I whisper, my voice strained.

“Je t’aime, mon étoile. Go get your light.”

Bailey won’t answerany of my calls, but my texts are still saying delivered, which means she hasn’t blocked me. Yet.

When I get to campus, I head straight for her apartment complex. I picked her up from here before we left for the contest last week. Christ, how has it only been a week? I don’t know which unit is hers—she made me get her from the damn curb—but there’s only about twenty apartments in this complex.

I start with unit one.

I knock, I wait. Not many people answer. There are only a few days until Christmas. I’d be worried she went home, but I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she didn’t.

When someone answers, I ask about Bailey. Tiny, feisty, colorful hair and a sharp attitude.

I get to the second unit on the second floor when a guy answers. Tall, thick glasses, and obviously stoned. I ask about Bailey and he cocks his head to the side.

“The chick who rides the bike? Got kind of a girl-at-the-rock-show meets girl-next-door thing going on, but kinda also looks like she might shank you?”

I release a sigh of relief. “Yes, exactly her. What’s her unit?”

“Right behind you, man. I pass her every morning.”

“She here?”

“Yeah, her and the tall guy and the dude with the auburn hair and her roomie.”

“Thanks. You can go back to your bong.”

“Dude, it’s a vape pen.” He laughs. “But thanks. Good luck.”