The Only Thing On My Wishlist

“You let her go!”

I looked up from my guitar, raising my eyebrows at Lucy, who was standing in the doorway to my bedroom, looking furious. It was the day after Christmas, and I had been planning on sleeping all day, still feeling heavy from the amount of food I’d eaten at Christmas dinner the night before. I hadn’t seen or spoken to Lucy or Elliot in almost four days now, but I should have figured Lucy would show up eventually. She wanted the dish, but I wasn’t about to give it to her.

Fortunately I didn’t have to, because about thirty seconds upon her arrival, she announced, “Elliot told me everything.”

I sighed, setting my guitar aside. “Did she now?”

“It took me a few days, but I finally got it out of her,” she replied, sitting at the edge of my bed. “She’s not nearly as stubborn as she seems sometimes.”

“Doubt it,” I shot back. “So what are you here for? Come to tell me I’ve made a rotten mistake and I’m a terrible person and I need to go fix everything?”

“No,” she answered, giving me a sour look. “Come to see if you’re alright.”

“Me? I’m fine,” I lied.

“Bullshit,” she said, because she never let me get away with anything.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, Lucy, honest. I’m just writing some new songs.”

“Max said you’ve been a wreck since you spoke with Ellie,” she told me pointedly, arching her eyebrows. “He said you’ve been writing a lot because you refuse to open up.”

“Oh, and Max is some kind of psychologist now, is he?”

“He’s better than that,” she answered easily. “He’s your best mate. He knows you better than some stranger with a notepad. So tell me what’s going on. Why’d you let her go?”

“I didn’t let her go.”

She gave me a look, and I groaned in frustration.

“I didn’t!” I added vehemently. “I just… I told her I’m tired of being her emotional punching bag. She’s got so much pent up aggression after Grant, and all I’ve tried to do since day one is help her. I’m sick of being the nice guy. I’m sick of letting her take advantage of me.”

Lucy just nodded, looking pensive. She propped herself up against the wall and stretched her legs out in front of her, getting good and comfortable, like she was planning on staying a while. “And?” she pressed once she was settled.

I let out a whoosh of air and shrugged. “And that’s it,” I replied anticlimactically. “And nothing. I really fucking miss her. I guess that’s all.”

Neither of us said anything for a moment. We just stared at the space between us, my blue bedspread, my guitar.

“She’s been on some kind of mission the last few days,” Lucy finally announced, picking up my guitar. She strummed a few chords and then rested her arm over the top and drummed her fingers against the neck. “She took Trish’s car the other day and went into town, but she won’t tell any of us anything about it. She’s been on the phone a lot, though. And every time I walk by when she’s on her laptop, she slams it shut. It’s like living with a secret agent.”

I eyed her. “What do you think she’s doing?”

“Fuck if I know,” she replied with a heavy shrug. “But it feels like something’s changed around there, with her. Like she’s made some sort of secret decision and none of us know what it is. But there’s definitely something different about her. Something good.”

“Don’t start spewing bullshit just because you want me to change my mind.”

“I’m not!” she protested, looking offended. “I’m just… I felt you should know, that’s all!”

“Well, I hope she’s doing well,” I told her, because it was true. “I only want the best for her, and right now, I don’t think that’s me.”

“I don’t think you get to make that decision,” Lucy argued. “That’s not for you to decide, what’s best for her and what isn’t. That’s her decision, don’t you think?”

“You didn’t seem to feel that way when she thought the best for her was Grant,” I pointed out.

She looked away, strumming the guitar again. “Well,” she said over the sound, “I guess that’s because I think you are good for her.”

“Well, I’m not sure she’s all that good for me.” I looked down at my hands in my lap and frowned. “I don’t think I want to get into some kind of dysfunctional relationship like I did with Camille. And she doesn’t deserve something like that after Grant either.”

Lucy stared at me. “You’re nothing like Grant, Josh. He was abusive. You’re fucking perfect for her. You’re fucking perfect period! I sometimes think Max wishes you and me were the same person so he could date both of us!”

I just shrugged, not sure of what to say.

She sighed. “Come on, Josh, just give the girl another chance.”

“Lucy, it’s been almost four days. It’s her move, I’ve told her that. You can come here and tell me how much we need to be together, but to be honest, that means fuck all to me. And I don’t want to hear it from her either. I just want her to make some sort of… I don’t know. Some kind of move. I want her to show me she’s okay on her own, that can be single, and she’ll be okay. I don’t want her to depend on me for her happiness. I want her to be happy with herself.”

“Have you even proven that to yourself?” Lucy asked, cocking an eyebrow at me. “That you can be alone and be okay? Because to be honest, Josh, I don’t think I’ve seen you single in all the years I’ve known you.”

I chewed my thumbnail and glanced away from her. “Well, maybe that’s something I need to work on as well.”

&&

I had to get out of the house. Mum was on a post-Christmas rampage with cleaning supplies, and Dad, who’d gotten home three days ago, was about as prepared as I was to clean, so the two of us set out for some father-son bonding time on the town.

And because my dad is a literature buff, we ended up at a nearby bookstore owned by a family friend, because he claimed he needed some new reads and wanted to catch up with Phil. I didn’t mind much, because I secretly loved the bookstore. The Book Nook wasn’t all that small by any means—two stories, wall to wall fiction, nonfiction, poetry, travel, children’s, young adult, the classics, the not-so classics, anything you could dream of reading could be found there. And they even had a coffee bar. Being around for fifteen plus years had its perks—Phil and his wife Lillith bought out a budding corporate bookstore in less than a year because their customers were that freaking loyal.

They were living a real dream, those two.

Dad was off upstairs to find Phil while I browsed in the new releases—the fact that Snooki, who I’d had the pleasure of viewing on television while we toured in America, could publish a book really threw me for a loop, and I found myself mesmerized by the cover of her book, or more specifically, the hair on the cover of her book. It was just so tall.

“Hi.”

I looked up, startled to find Elliot standing beside me. “Oh—er, hi,” I stammered.

She smiled, eyeing the book in my hands. “A Shore Thing? I didn’t realize you had such high standards in literature.”

I blushed and placed the book back on the shelf. “I was just curious.” I glanced behind her for any sign of Lucy, Trisha, or Henry, but she was alone. “So, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I’m—um—well, I’m job hunting.” She held up the stack of papers she’d been holding. “Passing out my resumé, you know the drill.”

I didn’t really. The band got signed when I was still pretty young. I didn’t even have a resumé. “Oh, so you—you’re—”

“Staying,” she filled in, nodding vehemently. “Yeah, I’m staying. Signing up for classes, getting a job. Lucy and I are getting an apartment together, I think.”

“You think?”

She gave me a small smile, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s only been, like, a week. Can’t solve all my problems yet. We’re still in the planning process.”

“Right,” I said, forcing a nervous laugh. I tugged at the collar of my shirt.

She gave me a once-over. “No holiday sweaters anymore?”

I glanced down at my T-shirt and chuckled. “Er, yeah, that stops after Christmas.” I looked up at her. “Bet you’re thrilled.”

She shrugged. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that. They were growing on me, actually.”

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” she argued. “They were sort of endearing.”

Endearing.

Neither of us said anything.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” I finally told her after a particularly long stretch of silence.

She looked up suddenly, her expression surprised. “Yeah?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Of course. I’ve only ever wanted good things for you.”

She blushed and scuffed the toe of her shoe against the carpet. “Except you.”

“What?”

“You want all good things for me, but you don’t want you for me.”

“Elliot—”

“No, it’s fine,” she said, waving me off. “I’m fine. Anyway, I should be thanking you.”

I furrowed my brow, surprised by her words. “What, me? Why?”

“You… You inspired me. To do something good for myself.” She blushed and clasped her hands together, ducking her head. “That sounds so stupid. But you always pushed me, you know? And I think that was good. I mean… I mean, it seems to be good so far.”

I opened my mouth to say something, but I was cut off by the loud speaker.

“JOSH FRANCESCHI, YOUR FATHER IS SEARCHING FOR YOU. PLEASE CLIMB THE BEANSTALK TO THE CAFE AREA. MAGIC BEANS CAN BE FOUND IN YOUR RIGHT POCKET. WATCH OUT FOR THE GIANT.”

My face burned as Elliot gave me a strange look. “Is that Max?” she asked, looking toward the stairs.

“I wish,” I muttered. “That’s Phil. He owns this place. My dad’s up there with him. They think they’re some kind of stand up comedy duo when they’re together.”

She grinned. “I think it’s funny.” She glanced down at her feet and then back at me, her smile fading. “Well, I guess you better go. I’ve got to find a manager anyway, and get home probably. I’m sure my mom and Lucy will have a fit if I’m not back within the hour, so—”

“Do you want to meet him?”

“Really? Are you sure? Because I don’t want to intrude. Max said he just got home, and I know you don’t see him much, so—”

I cut her off. “Elliot, I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want you to meet him. Besides, it’ll be nice to have someone else around who might laugh at his jokes. He loves that.”

I started toward the stairs, and she fell in step beside me. It was strange, being around her without her being perpetually angry or wanting to start a fight with me. She seemed… different. But not in a bad way. I was just struggling to keep my hormones in control, because I wanted to kiss her so bad it was almost painful. But I had to keep myself in check, for both our sakes.

“Dad,” I called when we reached the cafe, “can’t you just be normal in public? Mum would never do that to me.”

Phil and my dad burst out laughing, leaning heavily against the counter.

“Oi!” Phil called, his face going red with laughter. “You got past that giant alright?”

“You two need a show on the telly,” I told them gravely. “Really, I think it’d be a hit.”

Dad opened his mouth to say something but then stopped when he noticed Elliot standing behind me. “Well, hello,” he said. “You a friend of my Joshua’s?”

I grimaced. “Dad—”

She just smiled. “Yes, I am. I’m Elliot.” She reached out to shake his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, Elliot, is it?” He raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. “Must be that nice American girl my wife was telling me about.”

Elliot blushed.

“Just as pretty as she said, if not prettier,” Dad continued, blatantly embarrassing both Elliot and himself.

I covered my eyes with one hand. “Dad, please,” I pleaded. “You’re going to scare her off.”

“Nonsense,” he replied, waving me off. “Is Josh trying to get away from me, inviting you here? You two going to run off together? I don’t mind, but he does think I’m rather daft, like I might have been born yesterday.”

I eyed him. “No one would ever think you were born yesterday, Dad. Your hair’s almost gray already.”

He swatted at me, and Elliot laughed.

“No, sir,” she replied, all Southern charm. “I’ve been applying to jobs around here, and I just saw him while I was coming through. Total coincidence. I’d never want to steal him away from you when you’ve only been in town a few days.”

My dad smiled, clearly impressed.

“You’re applying here, are you?” Phil asked, leaning across the counter.

She looked at him, clearly surprised. “Oh, um, yes,” she squeaked. “I was just trying to find a manager to drop off my resumé.”

“I’ll do you one better than a manager.” He waved her closer. “Give it here, love.”

She pulled a paper off the top of the stack and handed it over. While he looked it over, straightening his glasses on his nose, my dad turned back to me.

“You can go if you like,” he said. “I was just having a laugh.”

“I would,” I replied, glancing longingly at Elliot, “but Mum will kill us if we don’t get back to do the cleaning soon.”

Elliot was quick to jump in. “I have to get home soon anyway. My mom’s gone totally nuts over cleaning too. She’s got Lucy dusting the ceiling. I swear.”

I smiled, but before I could think of something else to say, Phil and my dad were stumbling over each other to speak.

“Why don’t you come back into my office, yeah? We’ll have a chat about this resumé of yours, see if we’ve got a place we can give you around here.”

“It was nice to meet you, Elliot,” Dad called as he came around the counter to stand beside me. She was already being hurried away by Phil, leaving me little time to say goodbye—nothing but a quick wave passed between us.

Dad glanced at me and quirked an eyebrow. “You alright, lad?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, because it was selfish but I just wanted to be with her right now instead—or maybe even with both of them, just as long as I could have her around.

“You can see your little girly friend tomorrow,” Dad said, reaching over to ruffle my hair. Then he slung an arm across my shoulders and pulled me toward the stairs. “She’s cute, Josh. Very pretty. And very nice. I can see why Mum is singing her praises.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that it seemed like Elliot was very quickly going to become the one that got away.