Chapter Fourteen Lucy
Chapter Fourteen
Lucy
When I wake up, my heart thuds against my ribs as I remember where I am and who I’m sharing a bed with. Except Hunter’s not next to me. I pad into the bathroom, and he’s not there either.
Fishing.
Of course. They left early. I didn’t hear a thing, and I’m usually a light sleeper. I check the time. It’s seven thirty. Time for me to organize breakfast.
I pull on a sweatshirt and am about to head downstairs when I practically trip on the two boxes Hunter had delivered yesterday. He’s set them right by the door. On top is a scribbled note, signed by Hunter, telling me the boxes are for me.
I’m so confused. I asked him what was in the boxes, but he didn’t say anything. Why would he want me to open them now?
I pick up the first box and immediately realize what I’ll find inside.
The wigs.
I gave him such a hard time about forgetting the wigs, and he’d already arranged to have them delivered here. Why didn’t he tell me? I grin to myself, check that there are the correct number of wigs, then head downstairs. I need to prepare breakfast before people start waking up.
As I get to the bottom of the stairs, I hear someone moving around. I let out a little growl. I wanted to be the first of us girls up so I could set the table and make everything pretty.
But when I round the corner into the kitchen, Katherine’s at the counter, scrolling through her phone, a cup of coffee in front of her.
She turns and sees me and her eyes light up.
“Good morning! I’ve been awake since Ed left for fishing.
I couldn’t go back to sleep. I’m too excited about having the entire day in this beautiful place.
You couldn’t have picked anything better. ”
I wrap my arms around her in a hug. “I’m so happy you’re happy. But I can’t take any credit for the house or location. That was all Hunter.”
Katherine’s eyes sparkle. Instantly, I wish I hadn’t mentioned his name. I grab myself a cup of coffee and turn on the oven, like I don’t notice how Katherine is just itching to talk about Hunter.
“You seem very comfortable together,” Katherine says.
It’s not a question and doesn’t require an answer. I head to the refrigerator and pull out some fruit to make the fruit salad.
“Are you comfortable together?” Katherine asks, noticing her error in not asking me a direct question.
I pull out a chopping board and start to prepare the pineapple. “It’s early days,” I say. “Very early days and not at all serious. He’s busy with Portis. I’m busy with my job. It’s probably going to be over next Wednesday—”
“Don’t say that. It couldn’t be more perfect, having you two date. The four of us—”
“You need to dial back the obsession with the foursome. The four of us aren’t a thing. Hunter and I have just been thrown together to organize this weekend. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be in each other’s lives.”
“That’s not true,” she protests. “You’re my sister and he’s Ed’s best friend. You’re both in each other’s lives for good.”
I smile at Katherine. As much as I want everything perfect so Katherine’s happy, Katherine wants my happiness just as much. Was that what Hunter meant last night? Does he think I give everything up for Katherine and she’s not appreciative?
“He’s very good looking,” Katherine says.
“So you said,” I remind her.
She rolls her eyes at me and slides off her stool. “Do you want a hand prepping that?”
“Nope. I’m going to put the croissants in when the oven’s warm, then set the table. I already have the muffins, but I think some people will want eggs—”
“If they want eggs, they can get them themselves,” Katherine replies. “You’re not the hired chef.” Does Hunter see this side of Katherine? The protective side? The side that doesn’t want me to do as much?
“I can’t wait for the private chef tonight,” I reply.
“Me neither. And during the day today, I just want to walk on the beach, collect shells, maybe a little shopping after lunch with a cocktail.”
“Perfect,” I reply. “Just to warn you, I brought a couple of glue guns and some other art supplies, along with some ideas from Pinterest for stuff we could do with the shells we collect.”
She smiles. “You’re always prepared. What’s the plan? Gluing them to our asses?”
“If that’s your kink, I’m here to support you.”
“Is Hunter kinky?” she asks. “I get that vibe from him.”
My stomach roils, and I’m sure I’m beet red.
“You get the kinky vibe from him? What does that mean?” My mind slides to Hunter in bed next to me last night.
The way his T-shirt hugged his body like it was a size too small.
The wisps of hair peeking out from the neck.
I wonder how his skin would feel against mine.
Hot. Hard. Rough.
“You know,” she says. “I can imagine he’s quite the domineering type in bed.”
I laugh. “Have you been imagining it?”
“Stop!” she says. “No, but I wasn’t a virgin when I met Ed. I’ve had other lovers.”
“Lovers?” I ask. “You mean boyfriends?”
“Boyfriends who I slept with.” Katherine had precisely two “lovers” before Ed, and one was a one-night stand.
“And the ones like Hunter were kinky?” I ask.
“I’m not saying I slept with anyone like Hunter. It’s just . . . is he?”
I laugh again. “I don’t know. We haven’t slept together yet.” I don’t know why I say it—it just slips out. Maybe the line between what’s real and what’s fake has faded and I’m just speaking the truth.
We haven’t slept together.
Yet.
Yet.
Yet.
The word echoes in my head.
“Really?” Katherine shrieks. “Why the hell not?”
He could have made a move last night. We were both lying next to each other without many clothes on. But he didn’t even try. Maybe he doesn’t like me. Except, I think he does. At least he likes me sometimes.
I shrug. “No particular reason.”
“Well, it’s not because of the lack of chemistry,” she says. “Because we all saw there was plenty of that around the fire last night. I’m surprised the two of you didn’t combust.”
I bite back a smile. Yeah, I’d felt some of that chemistry. But he didn’t make a move.
“And you’re sharing a bed. Maybe tonight . . . Do you have condoms?”
I groan. “Katherine, please don’t tell Ed about any of this. I know Hunter wouldn’t want us all talking about . . .”
“About why the two of you aren’t having sex already?”
“We’re taking it slow. He’s being respectful!” I say, half laughing, half serious.
She shakes her head. “He better get less respectful tonight.”
Footsteps on the stairs interrupt our conversation, and I put my finger on my lips. I really don’t want my sex life—or lack of one—being the topic of conversation over the fruit salad.
After breakfast, we all shower and head to the beach. Our stretch of sand isn’t private, but there aren’t many people around—just the odd person walking their dog or running. The breeze keeps it from being too hot, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky.
We’re all scouring the beach for shells of all sizes. When I show my Pinterest ideas, everyone gets very enthusiastic. It goes up a notch when I suggest a midmorning mimosa to accompany our glue guns.
I brought some cards to stick shells to, along with tissue paper and some string I don’t have an identified use for. Yet.
“Isn’t it beautiful?” Katherine asks as we trail along the shore.
I stop, and she’s looking out to the horizon. “It’s a beautiful spot.”
“Promise me we can still do things like this after I’m married,” she says.
I slide my arm around her waist. “What do you mean? Like scour the beach for shells?”
“I just mean spend time together. I don’t want it to be like how it is with Mom when we see her. Like we’re going through the motions and we’re only there because we have to be. I don’t want us to grow apart.”
I squeeze her tighter. “We’re not going to grow apart.”
“But I’m going to be married, and I’ll probably get pregnant soon, and everyone says you change after you’ve had children.
I still want to be your sister. I want to hang out and day-drink and talk about boys and stuff.
” Words tumble out like she’s opened a cupboard door that’s been filled with a decade’s worth of junk she’s been trying to hide.
“I’m still going to be your sister,” I say.
“But if you get serious with Hunter, you might get married next summer, and then we’ll both be on the same trajectory.”
I try not to choke at the idea of marrying Hunter at any time, but especially a year from now. “We don’t need to be on the same trajectory to be sisters.”
“You know I’m going to become a baby bore, and you’re going to hate coming to visit. And with a baby attached to my boob, I’m not going to be able to come to New York as often.”
“We’ll figure out a new normal,” I say, trying to be reassuring.
“But I don’t want our new normal to be that I never see you. You hate coming to Boston because you have to see Mom, and if I can’t come to New York because of babies, it’s going to make things difficult.”
I think about what Hunter said last night about my mom and pleasing people and lines not to be crossed. “I want us to be the same kind of sisters forever, Katherine. And maybe I’ll just come to Boston and not see Mom.”
Katherine pulls back and looks at me like she must have misheard what I said.
“I don’t have to see her every time I’m in Boston.”
“You’d really come to Boston and not see her? She’d . . .”
“Combust?” I offer.
“Maybe. Or put a spell on you or something.” She goes quiet for a minute, looking out to the sea. “Sounds like Hunter’s good for you, if you’re all of a sudden willing to stand up to her.”
“Why do you think it’s got anything to do with Hunter?”
“Well, doesn’t it? What else has changed?” Katherine might be right. Our discussion last night about lines in the sand has been turning in my head ever since. Why am I sacrificing for my mother all the time at the expense of my own happiness?
“Maybe I just need to find out exactly what she would do. Anyway, it makes more sense to stay at your place. You have a nicer guest bedroom, and you’re—”
Katherine groans. “Ed wants to move.”
“Move?”
“Closer to the city. He wants to be able to get to work more quickly and have access to the airport to get to New York. He says he doesn’t want to waste time commuting when we have kids, or he won’t get to see them during the week. We could afford something nice near good schools, and—”
“Oh, God, Katherine. Why haven’t you told me any of this?”
She shakes her head. “Mom’s going to be so mad we’re moving away from Duxbury. She already talks about how she’ll be able to come over and babysit.”
“How do you feel about it?”
“Scared. But also excited. I’ve always wanted to live in Somerville.
It’s more vibrant than where we live now—where we grew up.
I’m ready for something different. I’m ready to give my children a different life than the one we had.
I think it’s nice for kids to grow up with all that life around them. ”
I squeeze my sister tightly. Everything’s changing. “You’re right. Mom’s going to go apeshit,” I say.
Katherine sighs. “I know. But with Ed in my corner, I’m okay with that.”
I’m so proud of Katherine. I’m not sure I’ve ever deliberately done something I know Mom would disapprove of.
Even thinking about coming to Boston and staying with Katherine makes me feel slightly queasy.
There’s something in me that’s like a safety switch that deliberately shorts the circuit if I ever try to do something that doesn’t comply with what Mom wants.
“She’ll probably try and get you to move back to Massachusetts,” Katherine says.
I groan. “You’re going to have to help me stand up to her if she does. I don’t want to leave New York.”
“I won’t let you leave New York. Your career is there. Your friends are there. Hunter is there.” She laughs. She knows she’s being ridiculous.
But still, she’s right. I have a life in New York.
With Katherine moving away from Duxbury and away from Mom and Dad, it might mean Mom turns her attention to my living situation.
The last thing I want to do is leave New York City.
Like, I can’t think of anything worse than moving back to Boston.
So why am I dreading the potential conversation?
Surely it’s a quick Never going to happen, Mom.
Or, at least, it should be. If I knew where the line was, like Hunter said last night, I wouldn’t be wasting time thinking about Mom putting pressure on me to come back to Massachusetts.
But I’ve never seen the line before—never looked for it.
Never been able to justify putting myself or my needs before my mother or her needs.
But thinking about leaving New York makes the line light up in glowing neon.
There’s no way I could ever leave New York City.