Chapter 9
What the fuck was that?
I need to unpack. My phone pings as I kneel down next to my suitcase.
I frown at the message. Out late?
I glance toward the door, a pit yawning open in my stomach. I hadn’t consciously clocked the fact that there’s a Ring doorbell on this place, but there definitely is. I’ve never had one before. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Until last week I lived in a two bedroom down the hall, with Jordyn and Micah.
Jordyn and I lived there first. Micah moved in with us when he was still in law school.
The three of us lived there together through their engagement and wedding because rent near the city is absurdly expensive.
But Jordyn found out she was pregnant a month ago, and for the first time in my years of knowing them as a couple, I started to feel like a third wheel.
It was time.
Me: Thanks, Dad! Hope you’re having a good night. Love u, see me on the Ring?
Dad: Yeah, interesting outfit choice for a night on the town.
I glance down at the Babe & Willem sweatshirt I momentarily forgot I was wearing.
Me: Ha. Ha. It’s a party favor from the wedding I was at. Do you think you could transfer over the access to that Ring account to me for the time being, until I move out?
Dad: Rikki, that apartment is my investment. I need to be able to keep an eye on it while I’m not there and workers are in and out during the remodel.
Shame curdles uncomfortably in my gut.
Single. Poor, despite working three jobs. And living in your unstable father’s new investment. Welcome to thirty.
I pull up my thread with Jordyn, who insisted I text her once I made it home alive.
Me: Made it home, sent boy away
Jordyn: I’m sorry he doesn’t live here. <3 I’m coming over
Me: what? you’re pregnant. it’s past your bed time
There’s a knock at my door. I pull it open to find Jordyn holding a pink cupcake with a lit candle stuck inside it. “Happy Birthday!”
A begrudging smile slips up my cheek. “Aw, thank you.”
I blow out the candle, and we collapse on my father’s brown couch.
She waggles her shoulders. “So, how does it feel to be thirty, flirty, and thriving?”
I snort derisively.
“If you could use your words, that’d be great.” Jordyn rips the cupcake into halves and hands me one. It’s pink in the middle as well. Strawberry.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, accepting the offering.
“I’m fine, Rick, I’ve been thirty for three months now. How are you feeling?” she repeats firmly.
I shrug, slumping down into the couch. “I feel like the universe is fucking with me, and”—I gesture to my boxed-up mess of a living room—“also like a hypocritical piece of shit.”
She pulls her legs into a pretzel on the couch and bites into her half of the cupcake. “Your dad text you?”
“Yes, the second I entered the premises. I answered immediately, and politely, like an AI bot. He has a Ring camera on the door that he won’t transfer over.”
Jordyn presses her lips together. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“My unborn child is the reason you moved out.”
“I wanted to give you space.”
“Yeah, well, I wish you told me that meant moving into an apartment your dad is flipping before you actually moved. I would have told you to say no.”
“That’s why I didn’t tell you.” I pull my legs to my chest and tuck my chin against my knees.
Jordyn studies me with her big brown doe eyes and naturally perfect eyelashes. “I know what it’s like for you with him, Rick. You could have stayed with us until your contract renegotiation. You’re gonna get the raise.”
I should hope so. I stuff the cupcake into my mouth and smile at her through it. “Fanks for da cupcape.”
She snorts. “Rikki.”
I swallow and sit up straighter on the couch. “I’m okay, Jord. Thanks for popping over. I’m just tired. I’m gonna unpack and go to bed.”
Jordyn purses her lips. “All right. But at dinner tomorrow, I want every detail of what happened with that man tonight. Play-by-play. Micah’s excited too.”
She leaves, and I flop onto the floor next to my Sunrise Away bag, unzip, and toss it open. The top half lands with a thump on the gold throw rug coating the hardwood floor.
Relief cascades through me at the sight of my neon-green packing cubes.
At least I got my suitcase back. I’m reaching for my turquoise toiletries bag when I clock the old-fashioned leather journal with the white garter wrapped around it, lying atop my pristinely organized belongings along the bottom of the suitcase.
I still, blinking at it.
The purple goody bag with my journal in it is sitting on the kitchen table.
I lean forward to inspect this one. Pick it up.
Rikki Romona is carved into the leather on the back.
I drop it back onto the packing cubes and stand, skittering over to the kitchen table. I pick up the purple goody bag and dump it. The contents fall unceremoniously across the wooden tabletop.
The journal’s not here.
I glance between the mess of Babe & Willem products and my open suitcase on the floor. A seed of fear prickles up my spine. Am I drunk? Did I somehow put it in the suitcase?
But when? I just got this back.
I snatch up the journal, bring it to the bedroom, and shove it in the top drawer of my nightstand.
An hour later I’ve unpacked the bag and stuffed my luggage away in the bedroom closet. I collapse on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Silent tears are streaking their way down my cheeks at 2:30 a.m. when my phone dings again.
Reed: Happy Birthday Rikki. You’re smart and cool and gorgeous [no smoke] and I had the best time putting out fires with you tonight.
I stare at the message for a long time.
I know what happens now if we start to text: It goes on for a few days before he ghosts, and I’m left feeling shitty about myself, holding a pointless grudge against a guy who doesn’t live here, who I hands down just had the best first date of my life with, for the rest of time. I don’t want that. Nobody wants that.
I heart his message and write out a quick reply.
Me: I had the best time with you too R. Tyler. Say hi to your Sunrise Away bag for me.
That’s it.
We’re not texting.
I’m half asleep when I slink into the bedroom at 4:00 a.m. with a giant glass of water. I plop it on my nightstand next to the journal, turn off the light, and collapse into bed.
Reed [4:11 a.m.]: Away bag says he’s gonna need therapy from the trauma you put him through
Reed [8:00 a.m.]: I need a book for the flight back. I require the expertise of a professional. What’s the best thing you’ve read lately?
Me [9:01 a.m.]: Elizabeth Ross Falls for Ryan was spectacular. And there’s a Hulu adaptation coming soon!
Me [9:04 a.m.]: It’s about this woman who’s doing research on vets coming back into society after World War I and with a drop of magic, she ends up back in the 20’s post war, talking to this guy Ryan who’s trying to find his footing back in his regular life.
It’s profound and moving and she gets stuck back in time living with Ryan and his best friend.
Ryan starts super rough around the edges, and closed off from the world and Elizabeth has spent most of her life working and has never formed a real romantic connection.
They learn so much from each other. It’s beautiful.
Reed [9:04 a.m.]: I’ve already read that one. I feel the exact same. New favorite.
Me [9:05 a.m.]: You’ve read it? I keep telling people about it, and no one’s heard of it yet! I can’t make the WWU read it because there aren’t any witches.
Reed [9:06 a.m.]: so to confirm, you had fun last night?
Me [9:07 a.m.]: Yes, Reed.
Reed [9:08 a.m.]: I told you dating is fun.
Me [9:09 a.m.]: *****Occasionally Fun
Reed [10:27 p.m.]: Can I get your email?
Me [10:29 p.m.]: . . . because that’s your preferred mode of communication?
Reed [10:31 p.m.]: because I’m going to send you an email
Me [10:32 p.m.]: because you’re in need of a tenth person to fulfill your quota for a threatening fwd chain?
Reed [10:33 p.m.]: can I get your email?
Me [10:45 p.m.]: rikkirolling28@