Chapter 10 Collette
COLLETTE
“So, I need to talk to you about something.” Pierre is standing in my doorway doing that thing he does when he’s nervous, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding eye contact. He looks like he’s about to confess to a crime.
“You’re moving in with Issy,” I answer for him.
His head snaps up. “How did you know?”
“Pierre, you’ve slept here three times in the last two weeks. Your toothbrush hasn’t been in the bathroom since Tuesday. Frankston’s bed is already at her place.” I cross my arms. “I’m not an idiot.”
“I feel bad.” He sits on the edge of my bed. “Felix is gone, and now I’m leaving, too, and you’re going to be alone in this huge apartment.”
“I’m going to be alone in this huge, gorgeous, fully paid for apartment with no one telling me what to do or what time I should come home, the horror.”
“Lettie, I’m serious.”
“So am I. I also can’t wait to acquire your bedroom.
” I sit up and look at my big brother, he looks happy.
The kind of happy that’s been slowly settling into his face since Issy let him back in.
The tension he’s carried since the wedding, since Kitty, since the Devils, has been dissolving week by week, and I’m not about to be the reason he hesitates.
“Go, be with your girl. Frankston needs a yard.”
“It’s not a big yard,” he argues.
“She has more space than this apartment, and that dog has eaten four of my shoes since we moved in.”
Pierre cracks a smile. “He likes the red bottom ones.”
“He has expensive taste. Wonder where he gets that from.” I glare at him.
Pierre pulls me into a hug. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?”
“Hell, yes, I’m so happy you and Issy are back together again. You both deserve a second chance.”
“I’m not going to fuck it up this time.” He smiles.
“You’d better not,” I tell him.
“Was it that bad living with me?” He looks a little hurt by my comment.
“No, not always.”
“Ouch.” He grimaces.
“I’m almost thirty, and my brothers treat me like I’m five,” I explain to him. At least he looks apologetic about it. “I know you are looking out for me, but that’s the thing, I need to make my own mistakes.”
“Yes, but those mistakes don’t include dating a hockey player,” he warns.
“I’ll date whomever I want,” I argue back. He goes to say something, but I shoot him a look that tells him ‘don’t’. “I’m not interested in any of the guys from the team, so please stop thinking I’m some kind of puck bunny who can’t wait to pick up a player.”
“That’s not at all what I think,” he exclaims.
“It’s how you treat me, though. That I’m about to jump one of your teammates at any moment.”
“Fuck. Really? Why did you never tell us?”
This makes me laugh. “You and Felix would never have listened or believed me.”
“I sound like a monster.”
“You can be stubborn and set in your ways sometimes, but you’re not a monster. Just your love can be claustrophobic.”
“Well, then, me moving out might be good for us,” he says sadly.
“I’m going to miss living with you, but I am also looking forward to my own space.”
“You’re going to have a party to celebrate Felix and me moving out, aren’t you?” he asks.
“Damn right I am. Freedom party,” I tell him.
“Fuck you.”
I flip him off, which has us bursting out laughing.
An hour later, Pierre’s bags are by the door, and Frankston is doing his clueless circles in the foyer, tail wagging, completely unaware that he’s about to abandon me.
I crouch down and cup his ridiculous golden face.
“I’m going to miss you. Not the shoe eating.
Not the three a.m. howling. Not the drool on every surface of this apartment.
But you, yeah, I’m going to miss you.” Frankston licks my entire face.
“That’s disgusting, and I accept it.” I wipe my face on my sleeve.
Pierre clips the leash on. “I left the spare key to Issy’s place on the counter if you need anything.”
“I won’t.”
“If something happens,” he argues.
“It won’t.”
“If you get lonely.”
“Pierre.” I stand up and put my hands on his shoulders. “Go. Be happy. Stop worrying about me. I’m a grown woman in the greatest city in the world with an apartment I don’t have to share. This is not a sad moment.”
He kisses my forehead. “You’re the best sister.”
“I’m your only sister in New York.”
“Still the best.” He grins, grabbing his bag. Frankston trots after him, tail wagging, not even a backward glance.
The door closes.
The apartment is quiet.
Like really quiet.
This is amazing. I stand in the middle of the living room and let the silence wash over me. No hockey highlights blaring. No Frankston clicking across the floors. No Pierre arguing with the espresso machine. Nothing.
I walk over to the speaker system, connect my phone, and crank the volume until the bass vibrates through me, and I dance through the kitchen in my underwear.
To freedom.
I call Jo while I’m in the bath.
“Hey,” she answers, sounding tired.
“Pierre moved out,” I tell her.
“We knew that was going to happen. I’m surprised it took him so long.” She laughs.
“He’s been practically living at Issy’s for weeks. It was just a formality at this point.” I sink lower into the bubbles.
“Are you okay?” she asks, and I can hear the worry in her voice even from across the ocean. Classic Jo.
“I’m great, it feels fantastic.” It does. It really does. So why is there a tiny knot in my stomach that won’t go away? “Wish you were here, though. I miss you.” Don’t get emotional. You just celebrated your freedom. You’re in a bubble bath. This is not a sad moment.
“I miss you too,” she says, and the ache in her voice matches the one I’m pretending isn’t in mine.
“How’s work?”
Jo lets out a sigh that tells me everything I need to know. “It’s fine.”
“That didn’t sound fine.”
“I’m just bummed that Polly got offered a dream job and won’t be working at the club anymore. Just going to miss working with my bestie.”
“Aw, that sucks.”
“I think there might be a promotion coming up at work, so fingers crossed they will be opening applications for that soon,” she explains.
“Good luck with that,” I tell her.
“How’s the team going? The boys good?”
“Yeah, everyone’s settled in. Content is going well, the numbers are insane. Same old chaos.”
“And Felix? He’s doing okay after everything.”
“He’s good. He’s happy with Harper. They’re disgustingly cute together.”
“He deserves it after everything.”
“He does. So don’t worry, he’s thriving.”
We talk for a while longer about nothing important, the way sisters do. By the time we hang up, the water’s cold, but I feel good.
Really good.
Mostly.