“No, the family put renters into it after Grandma died and Grandpa moved into a retirement community.”
“Must still love it if you and Jitter go visit often enough that he knows the way.”
“I—yes.”
There’s more to that story.
You can hear it in the hitch in her voice.
Wonder if it had to do with Chandler.
After a minute, she takes a big breath and lays her head against my shoulder again. “Laney, Emma, and I used to walk through this part of the park after school as often as we could once we discovered an old treehouse right on the edge of Grandma and Grandpa’s property.”
I start to smile. “You had a clubhouse.”
“We had a club. We were the ugly heiress society.”
I clamp my mouth shut so fast, my jaw audibly pops.
“It was Theo,” she says. “Emma’s brother.”
“The porn guy.”
“Naked inspirational knitter, but yes. Laney and I met him in kindergarten, and when we were all in third grade, Emma leveled up and joined us. She’s a year younger but super smart. She’d get straight A’s—or whatever it was they gave us in third grade—and he’d get parent-teacher conferences. He and Laney hated each other, and I know it rubbed him wrong that his baby sister was outshining him at school, and we were all kind of heiresses. Me to Bean & Nugget, Laney to Kingston Photo Gifts, and Emma to their dad’s taxidermy business, not that she wanted it. Anyway, that’s what he called us. And it made Laney so mad that she told us we were going to own it and make him rue the day he made us tighter.”
“She actually said rue the day in third grade?”
“You haven’t had a chance to talk to her much yet, have you?”
“I have not.”
“She’s mellowed since third grade.”
“Haven’t we all.”
She sighs and tightens her grip on me. “I miss those days,” she adds quietly.
I can’t imagine missing being younger.
But I would’ve if I’d grown up the way she did.
“You talk to Emma yet since she got home?” I ask.
“Oh, good, the parking lot.” She squirms. “I think you can let me down now. The path should be solid enough for Jitter and me to get to the car. Thank you for the lift.”
We can barely see where the cars are parked from here, but I squat and let her down anyway.
I know when I’ve pushed too far.
Maybe.
“You have dinner plans?” I ask. “Zen and I have this fridge full of every kind of food you can imagine.”
“I do. But if you’re looking for someone to share with, the senior center would probably take you up on the offer. Hope you didn’t get too cold. See you at work tomorrow.”
“Sabrina—”
“You are entirely too attractive for my own good. Thank you for the help. Thank you for being kind to my dog. Thank you for considering leaving Bean & Nugget as it is. But I have to go before I do something stupid.”
“Maybe it’s not—”
“Oh, yes, it is. Just trust me. It very much is.”
24
Sabrina
I spend Sunday working at the senior center with Mom and Jitter, who probably does more work than I do for all of the joy he brings the residents. Seeing Grandpa and hearing stories from the old days from everyone at the center is usually all it takes to cheer me up, but it doesn’t work.
Mom spends all day telling me to go see Emma.
I keep insisting Emma will come to me when she’s ready. That she’s behind at work. That she’s processing things and needs space.
Even though I know I’m hitting a breaking point.
And going home, knowing I’m sleeping mere feet from Grey? That he’s on the other side of the wall? Hearing him moving around, occasionally clearing his throat or running water in the bathroom?
It’s torture.
Absolute torture.
I sleep like crap. When I doze, I dream Emma’s feeding me to a pot-bellied giraffe that her dad’s stuffing for his taxidermy business, and that she keeps saying gossip is for assholes while Laney and Theo ride mating hippopotamuses.
I am not okay, and I finally break.
I call in sick, and then I go huddle in my kitchen at the farthest point from the wall I share with Grey and Zen, and I call Laney. “Are you working today?”
“Let’s see… It’s a Monday, so in theory, I would be doing the things I usually do on a workday, except I’m exploring this whole be more fun side of my personality, but the last time I skipped work, I broke my leg, so—”