CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Cleaning Dirty Dishes
LAKE
I start the morning tackling the dirty dishes piling up in the sink. My hands burn under the steaming water while I scrub away any grime. I dry each plate until it shines and quietly stack the plates on top of one another.
I’m trying not to make any noise. Serenity’s feet hit the floor above me a few minutes ago. She may be up, but I’m not gonna disturb the little peace she’s getting.
She was gone for most of yesterday after I moved in, hanging out with her friend Jimena. When she got back, she popped in to grab her scrubs, then whisked herself away to a lengthy ER shift. After I forced her to take my truck, because I’m not letting her ride in a random car or bus.
I put the last plate in the cupboard. Dishes are done, so I move to the counters. They’re already clean. Not clean enough.
Squat and slowly open the cabinet to soften any squeaking sounds, and I grab more cleaning supplies. I eye the cabinet next to this one. It’s locked. I’ve been wondering about it since I noticed it yesterday. I sigh, spritz the product onto the lock and knob of the sealed cabinet, and swipe it clean. Not my business.
Once it’s shimmering, I move back to the countertops and spray every inch of their surface, wiping and scrubbing away the product right after.
I pause, looking up at the ceiling as Serenity’s feet creak against the floorboards and carry her into the upstairs bathroom. My ears register the door clicking shut, so I go back to cleaning.
Scrub. Spray, rip, scrub, repeat.
My eyes catch the brutal scars on my inner elbow. I twist my arm, and the sight of my own ruined skin makes me both disgusted and full of longing. I grab onto my sleeve and force it down to cover my arm.
I’ve been out of the hospital for a few days, trying to balance on my feet, but I feel like I’m only learning to crawl, and I fucking hate it. My mind is already racing and begging, acting like I just escaped prison and I can finally go fulfill a missed crime from decades ago. Only my story isn’t as satisfying. All I wanna do is kiss up to a little heroin.
I rip off a paper towel and dig the palm of my hand into the shining refrigerator door. Spray, rip, scrub, repeat. Spray, rip, scrub, repeat. Not clean enough. Nothing is clean enough.
“Lake?”
The twenty different demands echoing in my head disperse the moment I hear her. I rear my head to the left of me, and there stands Angel, rubbing a hand over her tired eyes.
“I’ve never seen the kitchen this bright!” She smiles, and my skin stops itching.
I go across the kitchen, grunting under my breath. “Morning.”
She stays quiet for a second, observing my hand as I spray the kitchen island and polish it clean. “Good morning.” She lifts onto the tips of her toes. “Can I talk to you about something?”
She’s wearing a cropped blue t-shirt and fuzzy pajama pants that sink to her hips. I can’t look at her. I can’t help but look at her. Those few inches of skin on her stomach. Exposed. Beautiful.
“Phoenix?”
“What? Yeah.” I shake my head.
She sticks her nails into her messy bun and scratches. “I talked to my mum yesterday. She’s coming over for dinner today, with my dad.”
Stop scrubbing. Angel gives me a faltering smile, and her anxiety is quick to tug her lips down. So I drop the cleaning spray, lean against the counter, and fold my arms over my lower chest, giving her my full attention.
It’ll be my first time meeting her parents, and I already don’t like them. They’ve made it clear Serenity is their least-liked child, and they make it sound like if she reaches their expectations, she’ll get their approval.
I feel like that’s just a run-around trip for her.
“Is that okay?” her head tilts.
I nod, trying not to judge too fast. Maybe seeing them in action will change my mind. Though I doubt it. If they have the money to prevent their pretty daughter from taking a bus at night, but they refuse to help her, they’re clearly not people that want to be liked.
“Okay, um.” Her eyes trail off into the distance. Her thumbs find each other and she picks at the skin around her nails.
“What is it, Angel?”
She sighs. “I need everything to be perfect. Otherwise, I’ll never stop hearing about it.” Now she’s chewing the inside of her cheek. “I don’t care who you are, but—”
“Your parents do.” I interrupt her.
She tips her head. Her loose bun falls a little further back, and short strands break free, dropping in front of her face.
My lips curve upward. “No worries, Angel. I can be whoever you want me to be.”
“Lake, I don’t want you to think–”
I raise my hand up to stop her. “Angel, I got it.”
“Thank you.” She gives me an empathetic smile.
She stops chewing on her cheek, and her hands return to her sides. She can’t see it, but I notice her nerves dwindle off of her. “I’m gonna get dressed. I think they’ll be here around five this evening!”
She spins on her heels and skips through the hallway, and the second she’s out of my sight, my smile falls, and my mind gets a little louder. I turn back and face the spotless countertops. My eyes lift to the cupboard above, and one door has the tiniest speck of dirt.
God, I wish I could be whoever I needed to be.
I grab the spray bottle and raise it to the speck. Spray, rip, scrub, repeat. There’s only so much to clean. I hope Angel keeps making messes. They’re my only distraction. How long will that last?
Spray, rip, scrub, repeat.
***
“Right. So, you work with Brooks at his company.”
I flick my vision in the bathroom mirror to see her. Give her a half nod. She can’t stop staring at me. Her feet drilled into the bathroom doorway about two minutes ago. She caught me shaving my face. I don’t know what sparks her interest in what I’m doing. Think she’s just nervous.
“I moved some more of your pictures around to make it look like you’ve been living here. My parents won’t assume I’m lying, they have no reason to, but they are,” she pauses, “a little nosey.”
I flip on the faucet and run my razor under the water. Serenity waits for me to answer. I’m working up the courage to face her. To keep my composure.
She’s wearing a fancy little romper. There’s a matching fabric belt tied off to her left hip. I was confused before how someone could be so pretty in scrubs, but Serenity looks fantastic in everything she wears. It bothers me more than I’ll admit.
“They’ll ask a lot of questions. Just follow me with it, okay?”
I put my razor back on my shelf in the cabinet and wipe my face off with one of the small towels she gave me. It’s like I’ve lived here for years. My space is her space. Her parents are here to meet me, not question if our marriage is fake, and from how comfortable Serenity has insisted on making me, they won’t leave with any raised suspicions.
I turn toward her. “I got it, Angel.”
Her eyes can’t stay in one place, and neither can mine. Only she’s darting around because she’s nervous, and for me, it’s a struggle to not engulf myself in her bare thighs.
“What about your persona?” she asks. “Can you keep that up all night?”
“I can keep a lot of things up all night, Angel.” I snicker and make my way across the tiled floor. Angel turns to stone under my gaze. “I can use big-boy words and speak in big-boy sentences.”
“Can you keep up with me at dinner, Serenity?” I drop my eyelids before leaning closer to her.
A frantic nod pushes her blonde hair all around her head. Her lips curl and her eyes are wide. I stay still. My thoughts stray far away from heroin, and any of my other daily burdens or doubts. There are only these pretty green eyes holding me captive in the serenity of them. Peaceful, no matter how nervous she is, the color in her eyes is calm.
I step back, because I can’t handle it anymore.
“Should be an actor.” I chuckle.
She stays silent for an eternity. I’m not sure what she’s thinking.
“Yeah, you should be.” The little smile on her face is the biggest lie I’ve ever witnessed. “My parents will be here soon.”
“I’ll get started on dinner,” I say. No damn idea how I’m getting through this night.
***
Dinner with Serenity’s parents isn’t as challenging as I thought. I’ve been stuck with them at the dining table since Serenity took over dinner. I was helping her before they got here, but she wanted me to mingle. Thankfully, they’re easy as hell to read, and therefore easy to lie to.
Her mother, Julie, dresses like a 50s Marilyn Monroe. Same haircut too. She has a scarf draped over her neck and a dress that hits her knees. Her hair was probably the same blonde as Serenity’s, but years of tormenting her daughter made it gray.
Julie lit with joy when I kissed her cheek as a greeting, and for the first time in my life, I introduced myself in a full sentence. Not that she knew that.
As for Richie, it’s unclear if he wants to be here or not. He speaks in a gruff voice. “So what do you do for work, Lake?”
Julie turns to her husband. “He runs that real-estate company, Richie.”
“You mentioned it.” His mustache twitches.
Serenity returns to the dining room with a fresh, opened bottle of white wine. She keeps a faulty smile on her face and pours the wine into her parents’ glasses. I know she’s anxious. The only way I can ease her mind by selling this for her.
“I run a real-estate company with my partner, Brooks. I manage most clients and partner them with our best agents.” I take Serenity by her arm and lift my empty glass into the air. “Can you pour me a glass of red wine, hun?”
Grape Juice. I say it with my eyes.
Angel bought two bottles of white wine for her parents. There’s no red wine in the house, but I refuse to throw her parents off in any way, shape, or form. They’re the type of people that’ll question why someone isn’t having a drink, and running around an answer will piss me off.
Serenity blinks a few times before nodding, the tiniest of smiles dancing on her lips. She takes my glass from me and disappears into the kitchen.
“I see.” Julie squints. “So, do you help with any house renovations, or do you only work on the sidelines?” She rests her head on her hands and props her elbows on the table. “I understand Brooks’ real estate also flips houses.”
“I like to branch out now and again,” I begin. Brooks gave me a refresher on his company earlier over the phone. Although, as Brooks’ company grows into an empire, he’s not usually the one tackling and flipping houses. He’s managing a whole list of employees that do that work for him, but I’ll keep it simple for her parents. I was only a few credits short from graduating with a business degree.
I got this, Serenity.
“My focus is on convenient ideas that suit a family’s needs. Recently, I had a client with a bundle of kids. She was overwhelmed with grocery days.” I use my hands to keep them entertained. “I thought it would be helpful to have a box-shaped hole in the back of her garage leading to the pantry. Push the groceries through. Took all her stress away.”
“That’s such a wonderful idea!” Julie’s eyes sparkle.
She shoots Richie a look, and he grumbles. “Please don’t give my wife any ideas.”
I flash a grin. “Of course—”
Serenity comes back into the dining room. She puts my glass on the table and almost tips it over. Her entire body stutters, but I catch it before the juice spills. I glance up, and she’s reassured by the big smile on my face.
Her mother cuts in. “Serenity, you’re such a klutz.”
My jaw ticks. Is it necessary to insult your daughter over an accident?
Keep your composure.
“Sit down, honey,” I pull out her chair. She looks so overwhelmed, and I hate that I agreed to please these people. “My apologies. I’ve been stressing her out with our move.”
Yeah, that’s another lie, but I had to sneak it in to keep my sanity together. Julie’s awareness immediately leaves her daughter, but her husband speaks before her.
“You’re moving?” he questions.
Serenity stumbles into her seat, and I push in her chair. My attention stays on her parents. “We’re planning on getting a bigger place, aren’t we, dear?”
She hums, tilting back her glass until it passes her lips. It’s dark and berry-colored like mine. She’s drinking grape juice with me. I’m positive she’d rather be guzzling alcohol, but she’s choosing not to.
That makes me smile.
“Thank goodness. I guess a month of you living here was long enough!”
Right. I’ve lived here for a month, not two days. My eyes flick to the side table resting on the back wall, where Serenity moved my high school graduation photo and stuck it into a new frame. A younger me, still with hefty bags under my eyes, attempting a smile in my cap and gown. She’s showcasing my rickety appearance front and center on the table.
Sure looks like I’ve lived here at least a month.
“When do you plan on moving?” Julie, being keen on details, she needs to know everything.
“We only discussed it.” The table shakes. “This place is close to Serenity’s work. My office is only a few blocks away.”
Julie nods her head. “I’m sure you’ll find a solution.” She and Richie are somehow unaware of the loud rattling, but my focus drops to the shaking table.
Serenity. I reach my hand under the table and squeeze her knee until her leg stops bouncing. Her entire body goes still.
“Speaking of solutions—”
Serenity interrupts her mother, springing up from her seat, and my hand falls back to my side. “Can you help me in the kitchen, Ma?”
Her mother rises, and the two of them leave while Richie drags me into a conversation. He’s asking me questions about my job. I answer each one with slyness, and I get more information about him during our conversation. His mustache moves when he talks, and all he speaks of is work and insignificant shit. He’s a quiet man.
I’m busy eavesdropping on the conversation Serenity is having with her mother in the kitchen. Multitasking is easy since all Richie needs are short answers.
“Is that bagged cheese?” Julie has her back to me, but I see her shoulders stiffen.
Serenity is holding a knife. She looks moments away from slashing her own throat. “Yes, mum, it is.”
Julie takes a gulp of her wine. “That’s not how I make it.”
I raise an eyebrow. Faking a persona and spitting out lies is something I’ve done my whole life. It’s like a second nature, and I’ve never struggled with falsifying my life, but the longer I’m stuck at this dinner table, the harder it is to not snap. It’s something about Serenity.
Something about caring for her, and something about wanting to defend her.
“Well, you didn’t make this.” Angel cuts up sections of cheese, then shreds them on top of the lasagna.
“It won’t taste half as good with that processed stuff.”
I can read Serenity like a book, and I’m shocked her mother, who birthed her, can’t read anything about her own daughter. It’s not hard. I know exactly what she’s saying in that pretty little head of hers.
You’re in my house, you’ll eat whatever the hell I serve you.
I have no money to my name, so I’m going to eat processed, cheap cheese.
This cheese is better than the goat stuff that takes ten years to make.
All thoughts Angel is having. She’s pissed, and I can’t blame her.
I make a joke to Serenity’s father about him being a townie, and he bellows out a deep laugh. I laugh right along with him, and Serenity looks over her shoulder, eyes wide, like she’s shocked her father is laughing. She catches me red-handed, glaring at her mother. As if Julie’s some burglar in the house that I’m about to strangle.
Angel takes a breath, and her shoulders relax. She picks up the pan of lasagna and heads back into the dining room.
Once Julie is seated and our napkins are folded in our laps—nearly forgot that part—Serenity cuts up the lasagna into servings. She passes our plates to each of us. Then she takes her seat. Nobody is saying anything. Her father is judging the lasagna while her mother glares at Angel.
I can feel the nerves bouncing off of Serenity, multiplying in size with each passing second. She shouldn’t be afraid over a damn lasagna. I take a bite, fully prepared to announce how good it tastes, even if it’s shit. Her parents pulled up just as I finished making the sauce. The creative process and every following step was all Serenity.
It doesn’t taste bad. At all. “This is delicious, sweetheart.”
I meet her eyes, only to find out she’s already staring at me. “Thank—”
Her mother cuts her off. “It’s alright. Although it’s not my recipe. Delilah learned my recipe.”
“That’s quite a big serving, Serenity,” she adds, poking her fork at Serenity’s plate.
I open my mouth to say something, but let it close. I can’t say shit right now. So instead, I place my hand on Serenity’s knee and slide up my fingers an inch. I squeeze, hoping it’ll comfort her. Instead, she picks at her food the same way her mother does. She’s eating more air than lasagna.
Yup. This is the night I lose my damn mind.
***
The rest of our night composes of Julie insulting her daughter. She tries to do it discreetly, indirectly picking at Serenity’s quirks and personality, but she insults my wife so often, it’s impossible not to notice.
Meanwhile, Richie doesn’t say a word. He huffs and puffs. He only told Julie to pipe down once, after his third glass of wine.
“Yes mum, I’ll call you tomorrow.” Serenity kisses her mother’s cheek.
The chilly night air circles the open door of the house. My arm stays curled around Serenity’s waist as her mother mauls me.
“It was lovely to meet you, Lake,” she slurs.
I somehow manage a grin. “Likewise, Mrs. Madden.” I never want to see these people again. I wanna do everything in my damn power to get their voices out of Serenity’s head.
She pats my chest. “Please dear, call me Julie.”
I grip Serenity tighter. “Have a great night, Julie.”
With that, Julie spins on her heels and stumbles down the freshly flurried driveway. Serenity and I stay still as their SUV draws away. I wave until I can no longer see the car lights, then I snap my arm back against my side.
“Does your mother always insult you like that?” I close the front door and lock it. My arm leaves her side. I face her and the sadness piling over her.
Angel steps back and looks at her feet. “I guess.”
“Your food portions too?” I shake my head. “Serving was the same size as everyone else’s, Angel.”
“It’s important to her that I keep up with my appearance. It’s the most valuable thing I have,” she mumbles.
The hell? My blood is curdling, bubbling, stirring me up in a cauldron. “I would hope that your health and happiness are more important.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “Phoenix.”
“No.” I’m not letting her downplay this. Little comments like that add up. It’s verbal abuse and control at its finest. I move closer to her. “Why do you keep these people in your life, Angel?”
Instead of her wings soaring out beside her, they shrink into her back. “How do I let go of the people who raised me?”
That broken sentence makes me feel like I got run over. It crushes me, because I got no clue. My ma didn’t raise me, but she was around, and that’s enough to struggle at letting her go.
Angel looks ruined, and all I wanna do is fix it for her. I plow through my thoughts, searching for something to tell her. Anything that’ll save her night from feeling like a total disaster.
Each time we breathe in, her chest nearly touches my upper stomach.
I clear my throat. “Serenity, look at me.”
She doesn’t.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through your whole life, Angel,” I sigh. “But what I witnessed tonight was more than enough. Nit-picking you. She insulted your hair, your cooking, how much you ate, how little you drank.”
My composure slips. “Fuck me, Serenity. She insulted your eyes, and your dad just sat there. He laughed with her a couple times.”
Angel stays still. She keeps her eyes glued to the tips of her toes, like those comments are already reaching her, and she’s drowning in doubt and shame.
I can’t stand this.
“I promise you, their opinions are stupid, and projections of their own bullshit.” I lean closer to try and look her in the face. “All of that petty stuff adds up, but you are worth far more than any of it. You do not deserve that kind of treatment.”
That does it for her. Her head shoots up. “Neither do you.” Her eyes are flooding with tears. “You are worth so much more than you let yourself believe, Phoenix.”
My turn to freeze because no one has ever told me that. I stand there with my mouth open, wondering how the hell this perfect girl thinks I’m worth something greater. Why doesn’t she consider herself the same? Her kindness never stops. She makes more of it.
Give that kindness to yourself, Serenity.
The only thing passing through us is our breath. I’m struggling. I don’t wanna steal too much air, at the same time, I wanna take it all. My teeth sink into my cheek. I want to take the air from her lungs and replace it. I want her to feel new.
Grape juice lingers on her breath. I can smell it. I want to taste it.
I want to kiss her.
Those big green eyes stare up at me, swirling in the dim light above us. My forehead drops onto hers. I’m a second away from her mouth.
I kissed those soft, pink lips two days ago to close our fate, and I’d be a fat fucking liar if I said I haven’t thought about it since. I remember her mouth more than anything, and I mean anything.
My hand lifts to grab her hip, but it falls back beside me, and I rise away from her, but I feel a piece of me chip away and stay with her, agonizing the space a little more.
“Goodnight, Serenity.” I barely take a step back.
Then two. Three. I reach the stairs, because I can’t kiss her. It’s not fair to her.
Angel has yet to move. “Goodnight, Lake.” she whispers.
Followed by a “thank you,” so quiet, I almost miss it .