Chapter 19
Morgan
Friday morning I have a cleaning job with Kit. It’s one of the regular ones, not a show, so Kit and I buckle down with a little less fanfare and a little more chit chat.
“How are things going with Rory?”
Kit’s the only one who knows that this engagement isn’t real, but he also knows that I am totally into Rory.
I think about my words carefully. “It’s slow going. But we’re spending more time together. Last week she fell asleep on my shoulder when we were watching TV.”
Kit gasps. “The scandal.”
“Shut it,” I say. We’re cleaning the kitchen right now, so I’m tackling the dirty dishes the vacationers left behind and Kit’s cleaning the stove. “She’s just . . . it’s hard to get her to open up.”
“Yeah.” Kit scoffs. “Classic avoidant type.”
“Avoidant type?”
“Yeah, everyone has an attachment type. Like their childhood affects how they treat relationships now.”
“What attachment type are you? Desperate?”
“Ha ha. There’s three types: secure, insecure”—he glances at me pointedly—“and avoidant. Alex is avoidant too.”
Alex is Kit’s best friend—well, his other best friend.
Kit went to college and they were roommates their freshman year.
As it tends to happen when one goes off to college, Kit and I didn’t keep in touch like we used to, and at the time, it was hard for me.
I was already feeling the sting of being left behind, and then to have Kit choose to work in Albany for a while after college hurt.
And then, when he quit his job, he worked on Alex’s farm for a few months before coming back home.
I have a lot of complicated feelings around this—the lack of funds to go to college or even to get away from Here didn’t help. But now I’m glad I didn’t, and Kit’s back, so our friendship is back and stronger than ever.
“How’d you break through to Alex?”
Kit pauses. “Mostly I hugged him until he gave in. So, smother her with affection?”
I put the last plate in the dish drain. “Already do that.”
Kit screws up his face. “Well, alcohol probably helped too. A few nights wasted and a few days hungover really cement a friendship.”
“You’re not helpful at all.”
He shrugs and tosses his cleaning rag in the laundry pile. “I can’t help that I’m more lovable than you.” He puts his hands on his hips. “We done here?”
I turn off the water and put the sponge in the trash, the sink now sparkling clean. “Yup.”
“Good, we need to talk.”
Now it’s my turn to mock gasp. “Are you firing me?”
“No, but let’s sit down.”
Kit digs around in his backpack and pulls out a manila folder, the likes of which I haven’t seen since the bar’s hiring process went digital ages ago.
He joins me at the dining room table and pulls one piece of paper out. “This is a nondisclosure agreement. My dad looked it over and says it’s all pretty standard. I need you to sign it for the job tomorrow.”
“Mysterious,” I say, and sign the paper, because Kit’s dad is a lawyer and I trust him.
Kit puts the paper back in the folder and leans in. “Wednesday, we’re going to do the Cosmopolitan package for none other than—”
What?
Did you think I was going to tell you? I just signed an NDA. Nice try.
Kit drops me home after our talk and I’m instantly on alert. There’s an unmarked van outside my curb, and Princess does not greet me at the door.
The van is probably nothing—a neighbor having a handyman swing by or a friend visiting. Princess’s absence could mean one of two things. She could have escaped. Unlikely, but possible. The second option is more likely, though.
She’s gotten herself in trouble.
More than once I’ve come home to find Princess hiding because she’s made a mess. Twice I discovered she’d stolen food off the counter. Once she accidentally closed herself in the guest bedroom. And three times I came home and she’d gotten her head stuck in the lid of the trash can.
I have a different style of trash can now, so I’m wondering if she ate a loaf of bread off the counter—plastic and all (it’s happened before).
I step inside the back room and hear Princess scrambling from wherever she was.
“Owwwww,” a voice says.
Princess didn’t grow a magical voice box.
My dog bounds through the house, her whole body wriggling in pure joy.
She looks up at me, prancing in place, while I begin toeing off my shoes, and then she darts away, back to the rest of the house.
When I take too long, dropping my keys on the table and hanging my jacket up, Princess reappears at the doorway again wearing a concerned expression. Dad, are you coming? Dad? Dad!
She disappears again, and a moment later she whimpers.
Then I hear, “Don’t come whining to me, you’re the one that got off the couch. I was comfortable.”
There’s another whine.
When I step into the main room, I see black jeans and socked feet crossed at the ankle on my couch. Rory’s lying there, her laptop half open on the coffee table.
“Fine,” Rory says, and Princess leaps onto Rory’s stomach, which causes her to grunt and push my dog off. Princess burrows into the space between Rory and the back cushion while Rory chuckles.
“Well, hello.” I saunter into the living room.
Princess’s tail thump thump thumps and she whines in pleasure.
I lean over the couch, putting one fist above Rory’s head on the arm of the couch and the other fist on the back, caging my two girls in.
“Are you stalking me?” I ask. “If so, I’m into it.”
Rory rolls her eyes. “I was driving through and I stopped to visit Grandma and wanted to talk to you. And check on the car.”
Sure, check on “the car.”
“You weren’t home,” she continues with a how-dare-you tone.
“So I waited on the porch. And Princess heard me and she was whining and I couldn’t just sit there while she was all alone so I went to your back door and found the key under the mat—not very secure by the way—and thought I’d wait for you inside.
Keep her company, you know.” Rory sniffs as if she’s done me a favor.
“Uh-huh,” I say. “How long did you last before you decided you’d rather do a B and E than listen to Princess cry?”
The dog in question squirms. She’s lying on Rory’s arm, which has got to be numb by now. Princess wiggles her way up to Rory’s face and gives her cheek a lick before she tucks her nose behind Rory’s neck.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Liar.”
“Fine. Seven. But I—”
Whatever Rory is about to say is cut off by Princess’s giant sneeze. Rory’s whole face contorts into a half grimace, half wince, and I’m sure she’s got dog snot all over the back of her neck and in her hair.
“That,” I say to Princess, “was disgusting. Did no one teach you that it’s impolite to sneeze on guests?” I reach up to the side table and grab a tissue, offering it to Rory. “Need this?”
An eye cracks open and Rory glares at me. She moves to sit up and there’s a scramble while Princess ungracefully gets to her feet and leaps over Rory.
“So you wanted to talk to me?” I settle my butt on the coffee table while Rory wipes the dog snot off the back of her neck.
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Grandma is calling our bluff. She wants to come see my ‘new place’ and have dinner with us.”
“Sure, no problem.”
Rory’s hand drops. “Morgan. That means I’d have to actually move stuff in here. My grandmother will be coming over and she’ll snoop.”
I spread my hands wide. “So move in. It’s not like we have to share a bed. We’ll make it look believable and then after she leaves you can move back into the guest room. And look, you travel a lot, I work nights, we’ll hardly ever see each other.”
“Right,” she says slowly. “And I don’t know how long we’ll need to keep this up. In two months or so, Grandma’s going to insist on moving again.”
“Exactly. No big deal.”
Rory blows out a breath. “That means I need to actually move here. I figured since you’re off on Monday we could have dinner then, but that only gives me two days to move in, and I need someone to come with me and drive my car and the van back.
And you’ve got work. Although . . .” She pauses, thinking.
“I can’t fit all of my stuff in my car anyway. ”
I pull out my phone. “Think my truck would have enough room? You wouldn’t need to bring furniture, right? Just your personal stuff?” She agrees. “Okay, let me rally the troops and see who can help.” I fire off a text to my friends and stand. “Has Princess been out?”
Rory nods. “When I got here.”
“Have you eaten?”
Rory shakes her head.
By the time I’ve made sandwiches and we sit down to eat, the group chat has coordinated.
“Right, so, tomorrow morning Bailey, Silas, and Kit will swing by and we’ll take my truck to your place.
Load the cars up, I’ll drive your car back here, Kit will drive your van, you ride the bike, and Bailey and Silas will bring my truck back.
That’ll get me back in time to open the bar at four. ”
Rory thinks about it. “Aren’t you closing the bar tonight?”
“I’ll let Silas drive my truck in the morning and I’ll sleep in the passenger side.”
“Where will I park?”
I’m not sure if she’s talking about her bike, car, or van, so I answer for all three. “Why don’t you park your work van on the street, and the bike in the grass by the driveway. Then we only have to worry about shuffling your car and my truck.”
Rory nods, and then Princess bounds up and nudges Rory for head rubs. Rory bends down. “You’re going through an awful lot of trouble for me.”
“You are trouble,” I say, and the quick half smile on her face tells me she takes it as the compliment I intended. A thought occurs to me and I snap my fingers. “Or, you could stay here tonight and ride with us tomorrow morning.”
Rory stands and shakes her head. “I need to pack. I’ll see you in the morning, though, okay?”
“Sure thing, my queen.”