Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
LUKE
I can’t stay here with Lorelai any longer. It’s obvious she still has feelings for me and that’s going to make things very uncomfortable. I finish getting dressed before running my fingers through my damp hair to finger comb it. Then I head downstairs to the kitchen to confront my hostess.
Lorelai is standing in front of the refrigerator busily pulling things out. She’s humming to herself, so I clear my throat to let her know she’s not alone. Peeking out from behind the refrigerator door, she sees me and shrieks. “Luke! Hey there! Hi!”
As she crosses the room and drops the load she’s carrying onto the counter, I tell her, “We need to talk.”
“Why?” She’s so flustered, I feel bad for her.
“I think I should find somewhere else to stay.” The expression on her face makes me wish I didn’t say that, but keeping things as they are is not an option.
“Look, Luke, I’m sorry about this morning. I forgot a few things in my room and when I saw you weren’t there, I figured it was as good a time as ever to get them. ”
Indicating the ridiculous sweater she’s wearing, I ask, “Things like your favorite sweater?”
Her face flushes prettily. “Exactly.”
“What about last night?” I ask her.
“You climbed into bed with me, not the other way around!” She really was drunk if she thought that. The tube of biscuit dough drops onto the floor, but she doesn’t bother to pick it up.
That wasn’t what I was talking about, so I ask, “What about the prom?”
Panic etches across her features. “What prom? Neither one of us is in high school.”
It occurs to me that she might not remember the ride home and what happened after. She appears to have no recollection that she fawned all over me like a starstruck teenager. If that’s so, I might be able to stay here after all. I’ll just have to make sure I see Lorelai as infrequently as possible.
Trying to make light of the prom comment, I tell her, “I thought you said something about a school dance last night.”
Lorelai’s posture becomes rigid. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now, go sit down because I’m going to make you a world-class breakfast this morning. It’s my turn.”
She’s not doing that with commercially bought biscuit dough, but the poor girl has really been through it, so I decide not to make things worse by telling her that. “Do you have any fresh coffee?” I ask.
She points to the coffee maker on the counter, “It’s coming down now. It should be ready in a few minutes.” She picks up the biscuits from the floor and pulls back the paper layer on the tube. Then she whacks it against the counter until it splits open.
I watch as Lorelai microwaves a stick of butter. She mixes it with cinnamon and brown sugar before pulling out a cookie sheet from a lower cabinet. She gets busy spacing the biscuits before flattening them with a drinking glass. Then she sprinkles the dough with the sugar mixture and folds them into what I’m guessing is meant to be some kind of cinnamon roll. I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
“What are your plans for today?” Lorelai asks.
“I’m going to go see my dad and then head over to the diner.” I’m not sure she remembers seeing me there and I don’t want to cause her anymore embarrassment, so I say, “I thought I might have spotted you there last night. Do you eat at Pop’s often?”
“As often as I can,” she responds without making eye contact.
“Well then, how about if in payment for letting me stay here, I open an account for you so you can eat there whenever you’d like. On the house.” I rethink this almost immediately as I don’t want to have to see my friend’s sister more often than I already will, so I add, “You can get meals to-go.”
“That’s so nice.” She seems genuinely pleased.
“Anything you want,” I tell her. Although I hope she won’t repeat her lemon drop indulgence.
As if reading my mind, she tells me, “I think I drank too much last night. I don’t normally do that, but my friend was spilling some significant tea. It was pretty heavy stuff.”
Not caring to know the details, I surmise, “I’m guessing you don’t get drunk often.”
She shakes her head slowly like she’s feeling nauseous. “Not since that frat party in college.” Before I can ask, she explains, “I got so hammered doing beer bongs, I spent the night in my dorm bathroom clinging to the toilet. It felt like I was hanging from the ceiling.” With a sigh, she adds, “I vowed to never put myself through that again.”
“Ah, college,” I commiserate. “We’ve all been there. It sounds like you learned your lesson before most.”
“I like being in control and I never want to do something that I’d regret.”
Like asking your brother’s best friend to kiss you and then proclaiming the chaste cheek kiss to be lackluster? But I don’t say that. “That’s very smart. ”
Lorelai pours a cup of fresh coffee and stirs in one spoonful of sugar. Then she hands it to me. After taking a sip, I tell her, “Thank you.”
“It’s better than yesterday’s, right?”
I nod my head. Anything would be better than that sludge. Yet I still make a mental note to be the first one up so that I can make the coffee. Lorelai clearly didn’t see the gourmet beans in the refrigerator. “What are you planning to do today?” I ask her.
“My parents texted that they needed to speak with me. I suppose I’ll do some laundry after that.”
“How long do they stay in Florida?” Noah mentioned that his folks had started to snowbird a couple of years ago. I wish my parents would do the same thing. It’s time that they stopped working so hard and enjoyed some of the fruits of their labor.
“They leave right after Christmas and come back at the end of June.”
“And you take care of everything while they’re away?”
Lorelai’s head bobs up and down. She finishes fixing her coffee before taking a long sip. “So good,” she declares. Leaning back against the counter, she adds, “Noah doesn’t think I should still live at home at twenty-eight.”
“But you’re providing a service to your family.”
“That’s what I said!” She looks pleased, until her nose scrunches. “My brother makes me out like one of those adult kids who needs to get a grip and move on with their lives.” It’s obvious she’s trying to read my expression, and when she can’t, she hurries to add, “I have a very full life.”
I want to point out that she just broke up with her boyfriend so she shouldn’t be so hard on herself. But Noah asked me not to mention it, so I don’t. “You must be saving money,” I tell her. “And with the price of real estate today, it’s nearly impossible for people our age to buy a house. At least on one income.”
“I guess so, but I’m only assistant manager at a gift shop. I’m not really making that much money.” I can tell I’ve made her feel bad again .
Trying to dig my way out of a hole, I tell her, “Then it’s nice to have a place to stay that you don’t have to worry about paying for.”
The timer on the oven rings and saves me from saying anything else. Lorelai puts on an oven mitt and pulls out her creation. The look on her face suggests it isn’t quite what she expected. “Huh.” She drops the tray on the stove top. “They looked better on the internet.”
I stand up and walk over for a better view. She’s right. In a word, they look horrible . She didn’t roll the dough tightly enough, so instead of keeping their shape, they’ve all burst open. “Do you have any confectioners sugar?” I ask her.
“Is that powdered sugar?” she wants to know.
“Yes. And I’ll need some vanilla extract and milk.”
She turns around to collect the ingredients while I pull a cereal bowl down from the cabinet. When she comes back, I quickly pour in about a cup of sugar before mixing in a small amount of milk and a dash of vanilla. Then with a fork, I whip it until it’s smooth. I drizzle a bit of the mixture onto each cinnamon bomb and announce, “They look great now. And they’ll taste even better with a little icing.” At least I hope they will.
Lorelai’s eyes light up. “They look wonderful, thank you! But now I owe you breakfast again tomorrow because I was supposed to do this by myself.”
“Nonsense. All I did was add the icing. You did everything else, and it looks fantastic.” Lies , but there’s no point in making her feel worse than she already does.
“Thank you, Luke. That’s very sweet of you.” She shyly confesses, “I was really looking forward to another omelet.”
“How about crepes instead?” I ask her.
She beams like I just offered her a trip to Paris and a puppy. “Yes, please!”
I’m relieved things have smoothed out between us. I really didn’t want to have to find another place to stay, and as long as Lorelai doesn’t beg me to kiss her again, we should be okay .
Although, she looks so sweet this morning there’s a tiny part of me that wonders what it would be like to kiss her properly. I wish she’d never put the idea in my head. I remind myself that she’s my friend’s little sister and no good can come from that. I will keep my hands to myself and when I go back to Chicago, I won’t leave any messes behind.