Chapter 1 #4
“I am.” Aspen held her gaze.
Maddy nearly shifted her weight, but caught herself. She would not give Aspen the satisfaction of a reaction. “And exactly how frequently will you be popping by for these sessions?”
Aspen tilted her head with a faint, barely-there smirk—the same small, crooked curve of lips that drove Maddy insane for four years of high school. “Every weekday morning until Bunny gets cleared.”
“Every morning?” Maddy asked incredulously. “Is that really necessary?”
“It is. Unless you’d prefer to assist your mother with her pelvic floor exercises yourself?” Aspen’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes sharpened. “It’s a forty-minute process. I can walk you through the protocol if you’d like.”
Maddy looked at Bunny. The visual of her mother’s pelvic floor exercises was doing a lot of unwanted work in her brain. She looked back at Aspen and cleared her throat. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“Very well.” Aspen made no attempt to hide her stupid, smug smirk this time. She squeezed Bunny’s shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Bunny. Try not to commit any more federal offenses before morning.”
Bunny waved her off. “Oh, impersonating a fake neighbor is not a federal offense.”
“I wouldn’t test that.” Aspen came the rest of the way around the island and paused in front of Maddy. “Nice to see you again, Maddy.” Then, Aspen’s gaze traveled the full length of Maddy’s body and back up to her face, and one corner of her mouth lifted. “You look good.”
Maddy’s brows pulled in as she looked down at herself. She was wearing the dirty shorts and tank top she’d left Fiji in. Volcanic dust on her Doc Martins. Her hair unwashed and stuffed into a bun somewhere over the Pacific.
What the fuck did that mean?
Aspen flashed her trademark grin with those annoyingly perfect teeth and then brushed past her. The sweet scent of coconut cut through the smell of DEET, diesel, and recycled airport air still clinging to Maddy’s clothes. Maddy held her breath.
The front door clicked shut. Maddy waited a moment for the scent to clear and finally took a long, deep inhale through her nose.
She finally looked around and actually took the room in for the first time.
It was the same kitchen Maddy had eaten breakfast in for eighteen years, and it looked mostly the same.
Sea-glass tile backsplash. White shaker cabinets.
A long dining table under the picture window that looked out toward the back patio.
Bunny had updated the appliances at some point.
The fridge was new. A copper pot rack hung over the island where there used to be open shelving.
Otherwise, it was the same space, smelling like cinnamon and butter and Bunny’s familiar perfume.
“Fancy a game, darling?” Bunny gestured at the playing cards on the table. “Just one little hand?”
Maddy glanced at the kitchen doorway leading to the stairs, then back at Bunny, who was alive and well and looking at her expectantly.
“No. I need a shower, food, and sleep. In that order.” Maddy kept her voice flat because if she let it carry any warmth at all, Bunny would interpret that as an invitation for a hug.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Bunny clapped her hands together once and reached for her laptop.
“You go get cleaned up. I’ll order us some Thai from Swaddees.
You are going to love their drunken noodles!
” She paused, lifting a cautionary finger over the keyboard.
“Now, I’ll have you know I was bitterly disappointed to learn the noodles do not in fact arrive infused with any alcohol whatsoever—no, apparently ‘drunken’ refers to their being a spicy little hangover cure, which I find to be false advertising.
But darling, they are divine. I order them every single time without fail.
” She was tapping now, not looking up. “Potstickers or eggrolls? You know what—I’ll get both.
And the mango sticky rice, obviously.” Then she looked up with a dazzling smile.
“Because my baby girl is finally home and that deserves a feast!”
Bunny had always operated in one register and Maddy in another.
Her father had been the buffer. He had laughed at Bunny’s single-breath monologues while simultaneously quizzing Maddy on her flashcards the night before debate tournaments at this very island.
Without him, she and Bunny had no shared dialect. “Sure, whatever.”
Maddy pulled out her phone on the way out of the kitchen. Three missed calls from Sam. A text from her boss, Margaret: Take all the time you need. Renata’s got the finale handled. Two texts from Lexi: Any update on your mom? Let me know if you need anything. She’d respond to them all tomorrow.
Maddy stopped at the bottom of the staircase, her hand on the banister, gripping a little harder than necessary. Six weeks. Of this. Of her mother’s constant meddling and monologues. Of memories she didn’t want to think about. Of Aspen St. Claire’s stupid, smug face.
She climbed the first stair. Six weeks.