Chapter 9 Lucy
NINE
Lucy
I stand in the kitchen, flipping my grilled sandwich for dinner.
Miles never texted back, which I can only assume means it was him; he was the one who ratted me out to Willa.
Just for that, I rearranged the mug cupboard to where it’s no longer organized by size. I’ve turned it into utter chaos. The big mugs are interspersed with the little ones. I know it will make him twitch when he looks at it.
The beep from the front door echoes through the kitchen as Miles walks inside. I slap my sandwich with the spatula.
Miles hangs his keys on the hook above the shoe shelf and lines up his shoes in the cubby, then he turns to face me with a guilty look on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him. “It was you.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. I checked my phone in the driveway and saw your text just now.”
He doesn’t even try to ask what he did. He knows—guilty, guilty roommate.
I do my best to scowl at him. “Willa called me today on the way to work, mad that I hadn’t told her about living with you.”
Miles shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “Well, the good news is, you don’t have to hide anymore.”
“Um, no, not good. She didn’t find out from me.”
Miles brushes past me in the kitchen and moves to stand in front of the fridge. He pulls out a bag of grapes and starts eating them before washing them. Apparently, he likes to live on the dangerous side.
“Why didn’t you just tell her? She’s grumpy about it, but you’re an adult. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”
“It’s a huge deal!” I exclaim. Although I’m not sure if I’m trying to defend myself or Willa at this point. And I’m not even sure why I’m mad at Miles.
He raises one eyebrow.
“Ginormous. Humongous.”
His second eyebrow joins the first.
I sigh. “Willa’s really mad at me.”
“And don’t you think she might have a reason to be?” he asks nonchalantly as he pulls the tie from around his neck and lays it on the counter.
My mouth opens and closes of its own accord. I’m sure I look like a goldfish. “I’m not…” I pause.
“You’re mad that someone told her you were living with me? Are you afraid she’s going to make your curfew earlier?” There’s a teasing glint in his eye, and it only makes me madder.
“I don’t know why I thought this would work,” I mutter to myself as I remove the sandwich from the pan and put it on a plate.
I glare at him over my shoulder as I grab an orange out of the fridge. He wasn’t the one who had to listen to his sister yell at him. He wasn’t the one who got caught in the lie—no, I’ll call it an omission of truth. That sounds a lot better.
Peeling the orange gives me the perfect task to ignore Miles as he walks away. I told him that I didn’t want Willa to know…or at least, I think I did.
I toss my orange peels in the garbage and mutter under my breath. I turn around to stomp down the hall, orange in hand.
I’m intent on doing the one thing I hate having to do. Apologize.
By the time I’m halfway down the hall, Miles steps out of the laundry room in front of me and shuts the door. He’s changed into a pair of gray sweats and a T-shirt and looks like he’s ready for a run with his earbuds in.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.
He looks at me in surprise and pulls an earbud out. “Sorry?”
“For snapping at you. It’s not your fault I didn’t tell my sister where I lived. It’s not fair of me to pass the blame to you, when I should have been the one to tell her.” I wave the orange around as I explain my apology.
The more I say, the more I realize how ridiculous it was to lash out at him. What am I, five? Scared I’m going to get in trouble with my sister?
“It’s okay. I don’t like getting yelled at either.”
“Oh gosh, did I yell at you?”
He shakes his head. “No, but you said your sister was yelling.”
I shrug. “That’s just Willa. She tends to be forceful about everything. She yells when she’s happy. I shouldn’t have taken it so personally.”
“I don’t think you need to worry about that. The fact that you care about your sister’s feelings says a lot about you as a person. And when someone yells at you, that’s not acceptable, family or not.”
“Well, that doesn’t excuse me for acting like a butthole just now.”
His lips quirk up. “If it’s any consolation, I wasn’t the one who told her.”
I flatten my lips together. “No, that’s not a consolation. That makes me feel like an even bigger jerk.”
Miles walks away, cackling. “Apology accepted, roomie.”
I can’t decide if I love his laid-back attitude or if I should be annoyed.
And that means it was Margaret who told her. Margaret the Manipulator. I wonder what her point is in all this.
A knock sounds on the front door, and I start toward it.
“Are you expecting anyone?” I call after Miles.
“Nope! I never am!” he calls back from down the hall.
I think he’s inside his bedroom with the door open. I’ve yet to see his room, and it would feel weird to go look inside.
I set the orange on the counter and walk to the front door, standing on my tiptoes to peek through the peephole.
Uh-oh.
I unlock the door and swing it open.
Then I stand there like a doofus.
“Well, are you going to let us come in or not?” Willa adjusts her glasses and steps inside, brushing past me.
The cup of coffee she’s carrying smells heavenly, but I pause my sniffing to smile at Kingston.
“Hey, Lucy. How are you?” Kingston greets me with a smile and a quick hug.
I grin as I step back. “I’m in the doghouse.”
He grimaces. “I’ve been there before.” Then he stage-whispers, “More than I’d like to admit.”
“You might still be there,” Willa tells him threateningly as she slips off her shoes, lining them neatly next to Miles’s running shoes.
Miles walks out of the hallway, still wearing that pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Oh, did something go wrong with the inspector?”
He’s so casual, ignoring the elephant in the room and acting like they’re here on work business.
Kingston picks up the bone tossed to him and launches into the story about the electrical being haywire on the Legacy building and how they’re going to have to do a lot of rewiring in the commercial space.
Willa’s still staring at me. It’s that really intense look, where I’m not sure if she’s just thinking, or plotting my demise.
Kingston pulls out a barstool for her, then sits down on the one next to it. I walk into the kitchen slowly, brushing past Miles and opening the fridge.
“You all staying for dinner?” I stare at the mostly empty fridge.
“I already ordered us some dinner,” Willa finally says.
I turn slowly to look at her. Willa knows the way to my heart is good takeout.
She smiles sheepishly at me. “It’s apology food.”
“Is it pizza?” I let the fridge door fall closed with a snap.
“Yes.”
I smile back. “Then apology accepted.”
“I’m sorry I lost my temper with you. And that I yelled. Kingston reminded me that we’d been a bit busy over the last month. And I didn’t even bother to ask you where you were living or to even help you move.” She sighs. “I lashed out at you this morning when I’d been the absent sister.”
I shrug. “It’s not your fault. Like you said, there’s been a lot going on. I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings that I was living with a roommate.”
Willa shrugs and glances around the open-concept kitchen and living room. “This space alone is bigger than my entire apartment. It makes total sense now that I see it. I just wish it had worked out for us to live together.”
I nod and smile and tell a little white lie. “Me too.”
Both Kingston and Miles have given up on any semblance of a conversation between each other. They’re ping-ponging back and forth between us.
“You all good now?” Kingston asks.
“Yep, I think so,” I say.
Willa nods and lifts her travel cup of coffee. “Same time next week.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not like we have to fight that regularly.”
“Are you sure?” Willa winks. “Because it feels like we do.”
She’s right.
“And that’s exactly why I think it’s better for us not to live with each other.”
Willa sighs. “I know. I know. But it also sounded fun. Like a never-ending sleepover.”
I turn around and pull out the coffee beans I bought from Grind On and dump some into the quiet coffee grinder. You judge a coffee grinder’s cost by the noise volume. The louder, the more expensive.
“You all good, then?” Kingston asks.
“Yep, all sorted out,” Willa replies.
I risk a glance at Miles, who’s still leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest. He’s looking fairly amused, I think. Maybe that’s regret on his face because there’s already been drama involving his roommate.
“Mind making enough for me too?” Miles asks.
I smile up at him. “I’ll make a full pot.”
“So, did Miles tell you the news?” Kingston asks.
Now it’s my turn to stare at Miles like he’s a new species of frog. “What news?” I ask slowly as I finish setting up the coffeepot.
Kingston continues, “He’s taking a more active role in the company. Going to be there regularly now.”
“For now, you mean,” Miles butts in. He’s got a twinkle in his eye as he says it. “You know you can’t keep me away from Around the Bend forever.”
“I’m trying to. I need you here.”
“No, you need a better work-life balance,” Miles shoots back.
Kingston shrugs. “What’s the fun in that?”
“A lot actually,” Miles and I reply at the same exact time.
We face each other with raised eyebrows for a few seconds before we laugh. I lift my hand to give him a high five. He doesn’t leave me hanging, thankfully.
“What’s the point of working all the time if you can’t have any fun?” I ask.
Kingston and Willa look at us as though we’d suggested that pigs would make excellent ballerinas.
“Miles, I’m afraid to say that my sister is a lost cause in the fun department.”
Miles nods and hums a serious note. “Yeah, Kingston is just as bad. Even in college, I could hardly drag him away for something fun.”
“I’m not sure I like the two of you living together,” Willa pipes up. “I think you’re too much alike, and you’re going to be a bad influence on each other.”
“I agree. We’ll probably have a heck of a time getting them to come in to work—”
“Late at night,” I interject.
Kingston grins at me. “And they’ll be having horrible ideas about doing fun things on the weekend—”
“That’s a guarantee,” Miles adds.
The four of us laugh, and the mood is sufficiently lightened so we can enjoy the evening.
The doorbell rings, and Kingston gets up to go pay the pizza delivery person.
The coffeepot chimes, and I open the mug cupboard.
I lean forward to grab the Stud Muffin mug at the same time Miles does.
Our fingers brush against each other as we reach for it.
“Oops, sorry.” I pull my hand back and let him take it.
He grabs another mug and hands it to me, and then we both stare at each other.
Is this an Old West standoff? Why am I standing here, staring into those green eyes?
My neck is going to get a kink in it from staring up at him like this. There’s a little twitch at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s trying to resist laughing.
I wiggle my eyebrows back and forth, and then Willa clears her throat loudly. Subtle was never her strong suit. Well, I forgot she was here, so subtle probably wouldn’t have worked anyway.
“Erm, would you like a cup of coffee, Willa?” I ask her as I grab the mug with the tiny handle. She can use this one.
“Have I ever said no to coffee?” she asks as I add some half-and-half to the bottom of the cup.
I pass the carton to Miles and set the cup in front of Willa. She cracks open her travel mug and adds a little bit of her fancy coffee to the cup.
“You know…I’m pretty sure your bloodstream is half coffee at this point.”
She’s a true addict.
Willa grins at me and picks up the coffee cup. “Oh, this is such a cute floral one; I love it!”
Kingston returns to the kitchen and sets the pizza down. “I’m starved.”
He flips open the lid, sets a few napkins in front of Willa, and then sets three pieces of pizza in front of her. He proceeds to do the same for himself.
I think I might cry. Seeing my sister being taken care of? This is what she needs. Someone to watch out for her.
I didn’t even realize the stress I’d been carrying all these years as an older sibling—worrying about her, fretting over her struggles with food, wondering how I could help her and encourage her.
And now she has Kingston.
That means the only one I have to take care of anymore is me.
I splash the coffee over the side of my mug when I pick it up.
Taking care of myself is a full-time job at this point, and I can’t help but hope I find someone who is willing to put up with my chaos.