Chapter 3
THREE
Alis
Wrong.
Skye and Sunny’s annoyingly loud banter refuses to let the hard-working adult of this household sleep another moment. Looks like I’m getting up.
I throw off my comforter and try to swing my legs over the side of my mattress.
However, the top sheet is wrapped around my ankles so now I do the sheet-untangle-jiggle-wiggle until finally, my feet come loose and the top sheet gets shoved to the bottom of the bed.
For the life of me, I do not know why people still sleep with top sheets.
The fitted sheet and the comforter work just fine, and provide a free range of movement, tangle-free.
Mom set up my bed while she was here last week and made sure both my and Sunny’s bed had all the requisite accessories — including bed skirts, top sheets, and throw pillows (i.e.
, the three most useless items on any bed).
I’m glad she was here to help and spend time with us before starting our new city life, but I’ll never be thankful for her insistence on the necessity of the top sheet.
I pat over to the master bath and splash water on my face to help me wake up before facing the crazy in the kitchen.
The bags under my eyes do nothing to hide my late-night work routine, but I’m not going anywhere important today so it doesn’t really matter.
I brush my teeth and then flip down my hair to tie a messy knot on top of my head. No use brushing this mop.
“I’d ask what you’re bickering about, but it’s Sunday so I assume you’re painting each other with pancake batter,” I say as I walk to the kitchen bar, sliding out a stool and plopping myself down on it.
Both Skye and Sunny turn to face me, pancake batter splattered on their faces and clothes. “You betcha!” Skye slaps Sunny on the butt with her spatula.
“Will you stop it!” Sunny grumbles, or pretends to grumble, while laughing and twisting away to press her backside against the cabinet.
“You know it helps to get the batter onto the pan instead of your shirts.” They both roll their eyes in unison, laughing and turning to flip the pancakes that actually made it to the griddle.
I live for moments like this. Our family may be unconventional, but it’s perfect.
The aunt-mom, the adopted niece, and the funky friend-aunt.
Three peas in a pod. I thought it’d be weird living so far away from Tori, but considering she’s been married for a decade it wasn’t like I left my roommate behind.
“Is there coffee?” I yawn.
“Yeah — but not the fancy kind.” Sunny pulls my friends don’t let friends live uncaffeinated mug from the cabinet and pours me a cup. “Thanks, Sunshine,” I smile at her and reach over the bartop to grab the creamer.
I couldn’t care less about fancy coffee. Give me Maxwell House with a hefty dose of vanilla creamer and I’m good to go.
I take a sip, sigh happily, and look to Skye who’s weighing her whole-bean coffee on a food scale. “Enjoy your sludge. I’m making real coffee,” Skye says over her shoulder.
“You can keep your fancy snob coffee. I don’t have time to weigh beans and grind them and then conduct a massive science experiment just for a cup of joe.”
Skye snorts. “You don’t know what you’re missing. Brewing coffee is —”
“An art, only mastered by those with sophisticated taste,” Sunny and I mock in unison. Skye watched some documentary about a barista competition a few years back and since then she’s taken up coffee as a hobby and part-time job. Who knew you could make a living from being a pretentious hipster?
Skye rolls her eyes and turns back to her gadgets.
“Is there bacon?” I ask as I take another swig from my mug.
“What is breakfast without bacon?” Sunny crows, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. I’ve raised her well, it seems.
“Good point. Can I help with anything? Eggs?”
“Nope. I think we’re good,” Sunny says, following that with a report of today’s menu.
“Bacon should be ready in three minutes, pancakes are done, fruit is washed. We’re out of eggs since we made the pancake batter from scratch this time, so some of your protein is hidden in your carbs.
” Protein hidden in carbs? My girl is ridiculous. Or a genius? TBD.
“You know that’s not how it works, right?” I raise an eyebrow at Sunny as she bends to pull the bacon out of the oven.
“Maybe not, but it makes you feel a little less guilty for eating pan-fried cake for breakfast.” Sunny looks over her shoulder and smirks at me.
“You’re not even ten yet and you’re already a smartass.”
“I’m your favorite smartass.” Her grin stretches wide across her face.
“Language, young lady,” I remind her. I walk a fine line between mom and cool aunt when it comes to Sunny. I legally adopted her after her parents died so I’m technically her mother, but I still feel like just her aunt in so many ways.
She’s so much like Belle, sometimes it feels like I’m hanging out with my sister as a kid.
As if her spontaneous and extroverted personality wasn’t enough, she’s the spitting image of my sister.
Athletic build, average height, chestnut brown wavy hair, and an infectious smile that lights up a room.
She got her freckles and blue eyes from Alex, but that’s it. Everything else is Belle to a T.
Skye finishes setting up her French press and walks around the bar to sit next to me. Sunny assembles the breakfast plates and hands them to us, placing her own plate on the counter and standing to eat while facing us.
I grab the syrup and start to pour it over my pancakes. “We have to get you some school shoes today, so let’s head out after breakfast so we beat the crowds, yeah?”
“Monty, I hate shoe shopping!” Sunny whines and tilts her head back like shoe shopping is akin to torture. I do not understand this child. What female does not enjoy shoe shopping?! I hate crowds but even I’ll brave the masses for new shoes.
“Tell your feet to stop growing and then we can stop buying shoes every three months.” I give her a flat, this-is-not-my-fault smile, and then shove a bite of pancake into my mouth.
“Um, I want new shoes!” Skye chimes in. “Do I get to come with?”
“Sure. I don’t care. But I’m not paying for yours, too. I don’t care if your birthday is next week.”
“Never mind, then. I guess I don’t NEED new shoes. I could use a new top, though. I have two interviews this week and I’m sure they’d like to see my professional side rather than my typical crazy.”
“You? Crazy? But leopard print has never looked so classy!” I poke fun at Skye and her eccentric sense of style.
“Yeah, Skye.” Sunny’s talking with a mouth full of food. “I’m sure a new top won’t matter once they spend an hour with your calm and professional personality.” I try not to spit out my food while laughing.
“You both suck.” Skye slaps me on the arm before pressing her coffee and pouring it into her mug.
“I’m with you on needing new professional attire. I think I’m good on shoes, but I need something more business casual for my new job with Dr. Matthews. I’m pretty sure yoga pants and cropped sweaters aren’t in the dress code.”
Dr. Abigail Matthews — my new supervising professor and boss at Middle Peak University.
When I started looking into master’s programs to finally finish my graduate degree, I wasn’t sure where to start since I wasn’t seeking out a specific professor as a mentor.
I would have gone anywhere to study with Dr. Ryan, but when that relationship went to shit and I dropped out of my first master’s program, I didn’t think through what I’d do in the future if I wanted to go back and finish.
Working with him again was never an option, and I haven’t spent any time in academic circles these past nine years so I had no idea where to begin.
My priorities are also a bit different this go-round.
My first foray into graduate studies came with scholarships and the hope of an eventual fellowship and PhD.
This time, however, scholarships aren’t really an option.
My budget is tight, and I’m no longer responsible for only myself.
I also didn’t want to move Sunny too far away from her grandparents, so my best option was MPU.
A bit later we’re headed to the holy grail of retail stores: Target. Nothing like a one-stop shop for clothing, home decor, groceries, and toiletries.
“Oooooh, Monty! Look at all the glitter!” Sunny is practically salivating at the pink, sparkly high tops on the shelf. One problem — they’re $35. There’s no way in hell I’m paying that much for a pair of high-tops she’s going to grow out of in a few months.
“Sunny, babe, that’s way too much money for a pair of shoes.” The look she gives me is pleading. I hate saying no to that sweet face.
“Nope. Not too much. Check the app.” Skye pushes her phone in front of my face and sure enough, today is 20 percent off shoes for the family.
“Can I, can I, can I?” Sunny’s pleading is adorably annoying. Especially when she starts running in place like she has to pee.
“Sure, kid. Go for it.” She squeals her delight, clapping her hands and hopping up and down. I chuckle and roll my eyes before walking toward the women’s department to find myself an outfit for meeting Dr. Andrews.
Two hours and $375 later (shoot me), Sunny’s wardrobe is officially school ready and I won’t look like a teenage hobo when I meet my new advisor.
And even though I could have made do with my current selection, I saw an adorable pair of yellow flats and decided they would come home with me.
I know I’m thirty and shouldn’t be nervous, but the thought of returning to school and meeting a ton of new people makes my skin crawl.
I’m not very peopley, to state it mildly.
We’re walking out to the car when my phone goes off. It’s not Mom’s ringtone, so I ignore it.
“You gonna get that?” Skye looks at me like I’m insane for ignoring my cell.
“Um, no? I’ll check it later.” She rolls her eyes at me and clicks the fob to open the trunk.
“What if it’s Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bearded?” She smirks and lifts an eyebrow. I blush and look at my feet. Thankfully, Sunny’s already climbing into the car and buckling her seatbelt, so she can’t hear our conversation.
“I’ve been thinking about that, and as swoon-worthy as he was, I don’t think now is the right time to get involved with anyone. We’ve been here less than a week, I’m about to start a new program, and I also have Sunny. There’s no way I’m bringing a man into her life right now.”
“Who said anything about introducing him to Sunny?! Or getting serious, for that matter. You haven’t even gone on a real date in years.
What’s the harm in having some fun?” Skye may be able to simply have fun with a man, but I’m not built that way.
At least, I haven’t been that way since the accident.
“You know I’m not a casual girl.” I give her an exasperated look. She’s not deterred.
“Maybe you should be,” she shrugs. “Not everything has to be so serious all the time.”
“Serious? How can I not be serious?! I have a nine-year-old and I’m not living with my parents for the first time in a decade.
For the first time since becoming a parent, I’m paying my own rent and utilities, going to school full-time, adjusting to a new city, not to mention helping my daughter adjust to being away from her grandparents and friends for the first time in her life.
Excuse me for being a responsible adult.
” I slam the trunk and turn to walk toward the driver-side door.
Skye’s staring at me, mouth agape. “What the fuck was that?”
I look up from the door handle and see Skye, still standing by the trunk. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed out and I keep all these fears and thoughts bottled up in my head because I’m afraid if I let them out around Sunny she won’t transition well. It’s hard enough on the kid as it is.”
“I get it, but at some point, you have to stop freaking out about everything and remember that you have needs just like any other woman.”
I snort. “Needs. You mean sex?”
“I’m not a nympho, Alis. I don’t only think about sex. I’m talking about the need to relax, take a breath, have some fun, enjoy some more-than-platonic companionship.” Sometimes Skye can be an adult.
I let out a breath and look up at the sky.
“I know. And I will.” I once again make eye contact with Skye, my face and tone pleading with her to drop it.
“Just not right now, okay? Give me a few months to get through this transition period and then, maybe, eventually, I’ll think about meeting someone. ”
“I’m going to hold you to that.” And I know she will.
Skye walks to the passenger door and slides in, putting the keys in the ignition and starting the air conditioning for Sunny.
I turn my back to the door and lean against the car, grabbing the phone from my handbag and checking the notifications.
Sure enough, it’s a text from — Sexy Dexy? ! What the hell? Skye.
Sexy Dexy: Hi Alis, I had a great time with you Friday and I’d really like to see you again. Are you free next weekend? Dinner?
Do I respond or do I ghost him? I’m not a child.
I shouldn’t ghost him. I also don’t know how to tell a guy I like that I don’t want to see him again.
Scratch that — it’s not that I don’t want to see him again, but right now is not a good time for me to even consider exploring a relationship.
I probably should have thought about this before I gave him my number and kissed him at the club.
I need to respond. I can’t ignore him. I’m just not that person.
Me: Hey, Dexter, I had a great time as well. I’m really sorry, but I’ve thought about this and right now is not a good time for me to get involved with anyone. Maybe I’ll see you around at some point.
Sexy Dexy: No worries, I understand. Let me know if you change your mind. I’d love to show you around, grab coffee and whatnot.
Yeah, that won’t be happening any time soon. I don’t respond. I do, however, update his contact information to Dexter instead of Sexy Dexy. I really need to change my passcode.
I’m sure by the time I’m ready to explore a romantic relationship, some other woman will have snatched him up. And if I keep in touch with him and stick him in the friend zone I’ll have to watch him eventually fall for someone else.
Nope. Not happening.