Chapter 21
Rilla
“What do you mean, you hid the board games?”
Callum is all smiles as he looks between Josh and me. “I mean, I hid the board games.”
“What the hell, man?” Josh appears as baffled as I am as he grabs his beer.
“The last time I played board games with the Pine Nuts things were broken and blood was spilled. It took Maggie three months to find a rug that goes with the couch she liked. I’m not letting you two destroy them.”
“Okay, first of all, that was eight years ago,” I argue, popping a stuffed olive in my mouth. I’ve claimed what I consider to be the best seat in Maggie and Callum’s upscale condo. From my current spot on the couch, I not only have the perfect view of the living room and everyone in it, but I have unblocked access to the excellent snack selection. “And second of all, that is a highly dramatized version of the events.” My nineteen year old self had misjudged the integrity of the wine glass I was drinking from and I cut myself while hurriedly picking up the shards.
“So all of us have to suffer just because my sister can’t control her rage?”
“Who says I’m even trying?” I glare at him.
Our merry group of five all laugh and go back to our individual conversations. Maggie plants herself next to me on the couch, looking effortlessly chic. She’s wearing a butter yellow shift dress that would make me look like a shapeless banana.
“The place looks great,” I tell her, looking around the open space. I had first come here with Betty and Josh when I visited in November. At that point, the place looked like a modern minimalist’s wet dream.
But Maggie did what she does best and made it feel like the most welcoming place on the planet.
“Thank you.” She grins at floor to ceiling bookshelves and framed family pictures on the walls. The air is filled with the soothing aroma of vanilla and cinnamon, courtesy of scented candles placed around the room. You would think she operated a bakery instead of a homemade soap business. “It makes me happy.”
I look up to catch Callum staring at Maggie with a warm smile. If there’s anything that makes him happy, it’s seeing her happy.
“Did Callum help select the decor?” I ask, knowing full well he knows nothing about interior design.
“He paid for it. That was very helpful.” She giggles. Callum is a very successful entrepreneur who is well on his way to being a self-made billionaire. You’d never know it from his worn band t-shirts and laid back charm. I’m pretty sure he’s had the thread-bare David Bowie shirt he’s wearing since he was Josh’s roommate back in college.
He approaches with a bottle of red wine and offers to top up our drinks. We graciously comply, holding our glasses up for him.
“I heard you were at the hockey game last week, Rill,” he says as he pours a generous amount of pinot noir in my long stem glass. “Sullivan tying the game late in the third and then winning in overtime? That must have been a great game to watch live.”
“It was,” I admit.
“Not to mention the off-ice action,” Betty pipes up from where she and Josh are sitting across from us.
Traitor.I’d told Betty about the kiss the next day when I returned Josh’s jersey, but I’d insisted it didn’t mean anything and begged her not to make a big deal about it. I didn’t mention anything about the movie night, nor have I talked to her about any of the more recent developments.
Maggie arches an elegant eyebrow at me and I sigh knowing I may as well get this over with.
“It wasn’t a big deal. During the game Logan and I ended up on the Kiss Cam.”
“OH MY GOD!” Maggie shrieks jumping up from the couch and running far too quickly for a woman with a full wine glass. She comes back a moment later, phone in hand. “Is there a video online?”
“Probably not,” I say, acting like the entire thing bores me.
There is definitely a video; it’s the greatest eight second clip in existence. I’ve watched it at least thirty times since the game and I feel strongly that it should win a sports highlight award.
“Tell me everything!” Maggie pleads, setting her phone and wine glass down and bouncing on the couch like a little kid begging for a bedtime story.
“It’s not a big deal. The game was great. I ate a lot of nachos. They put us on the Kiss Cam, so we kissed.” I take a long drink from my glass before deciding to continue. “We ended up hanging out again that weekend and Logan asked me to date him, so now, I guess, we’re dating.”
I’m not sure what reaction I was expecting. A chorus of excited squeals and clapping, maybe even some good-natured teasing, but the silence I’m met with instead is deafening. Four pairs of eyes stare at me. No one moves. I register their shocked expressions and wait for someone to say something. My brother gets the honors.
“You’re kidding, right?”
I stare up at him, confused. “Why would I be kidding?”
“Your editor, Rilla? Seriously? Are you actively trying to sabotage your book?” The look he gives me reminds me of the time I took a model airplane he built to school for show and tell and ended up breaking it. It’s a combination of annoyance and disappointment.
“Excuse me?”
“Josh,” Betty says, an edge of warning in her tone.
“Oh come on. You know how you are, Rilla.”
“I think I do, but why don’t you enlighten me anyway.” I never expected this reaction from him, but now that he’s started, I want him to finish. I need to know what’s going on inside his head to warrant this response.
“A month ago you couldn’t stand the guy. Now, after never showing interest in dating anyone, you’re going to date him? The guy whose job it is to get your book to the finish line? You know how impulsive you are. You’ll break up with him the first time he says something you don’t agree with and then you won’t be able to work together anymore.” Josh looks around the room for allies and upon not finding any, turns back to me, his voice softer now. “I just think you’re not thinking this through.”
I’ve idolized my brother since I was a small child. There is no one that I trust or respect more, not even my parents. I’ve always known he was in my corner and never questioned his support. So to sit here and listen to him voice all the negative self-talk my inner critic has been using to berate me this week hurts more than I can put into words. And I know a lot of fucking words.
It wasn’t just the absence of his support that cut deep; it was the sinking realization that the person I’ve always counted on maybe didn’t have my back as I’ve always thought.
I could come up with a self-deprecating comeback, or better yet find some way to twist his words and make fun of him. I’m sure either of those options would ease the tension that’s settled in the living room and put our friends at ease. Push down what you’re feeling. Deflect and distract.
But for once I choose not to put a bandaid over the blow he’s just delivered. Instead, I decide to let myself bleed.
“Right,” I say, setting my half-empty glass on a coaster. “You’re probably right. You usually are.” I turn to address a sympathetic-looking Maggie. “I’m going to take off. I’ve got a big word goal to meet tomorrow and I’m planning on getting up early.”
My hosts stand when I do and I thank them for having me. Callum goes to grab my coat from the closet and Maggie squeezes my hand as she walks me to the door.
“We’ll come with you,” Betty says, standing as well. She looks at my brother, who sits looking completely dumbfounded by the way the evening has turned out.
“No, Betts, really,” I plead. I know she’s upset, but the last thing I want is for her to try to make excuses for Josh or fix us right now. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
I make it out of the apartment and hit the down button on the elevator. When the doors open, I step inside, almost hoping the small metal box will plummet me down to the lobby as quickly as possible.
“Rilla, wait,” Josh appears in the hallway wearing the expression of someone who knows they fucked up. But I’m not in the mood to hear his apology so I hit the close door button. “I didn’t mean to–”
“I think you did,” I say as the doors slide shut with a soft whoosh. I feel a gentle lurch as the elevator begins its descent and I watch the floors tick by on the digital display above the door. For someone who spends so much time alone, I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more lonely.