Finally, she’s out the door. I wish back the last twelve minutes of my life, but at least she’s gone.
Rose still watches me with a smile wide enough to pop the dimple into the right corner of her mouth. Her curiosity is as plain as my sister’s mischief.
I exhale a noisy sigh. “Ask.”
“Does your family get together every week?”
Oh. Not the direction I figured her mind was racing afterLucy…was Lucy. I’ve never mentioned this in all the time she’s worked here?
“Yeah. Most of us make it every Sunday, but it’s casual.” As if the eight of us could ever manage anything remotely formal.
“That’s really sweet.”
“It’s loud. Obnoxious. Chaotic.” Last week, Nathan and our ten-year-old niece, Jovie, learned a dance off some app, while Graham and Dad debated the feasibility of a moon colony. Mom and Luke discussed the historical drama they’re watching, and Lucy scribbled in a notebook half the time.
“A big family sounds like fun,” Rose says.
“I guess.” I love them, but I’m not in the mood to talk them up when one of them just left pink glitter fingerprints all over my back.
“Lucy means well, you know. She just wants you to be happy.”
I am happy. More or less. It’s not something I rate on a day-to-day basis. There’s room for improvement, sure, but everybody could be happier.
I hold Rose’s gentle gaze. She might be the only person I know whose happiness is already at max capacity. Would being around her more end up increasing my happiness? Or just deplete hers? If history is anything to go on, I already know the answer.
Snapping out of those make-believe scenarios, I move toward the hallway. “I’m just gonna?—”
Escape. Finally.
“Oh,” she says. “Just out of curiosity…”
Here it is. “Yeah?”
“Which do you prefer? Blondes or brunettes?” She lifts a shoulder. “In case Lucy asks again. Gotta help you out if I can.”
The air holds in my lungs as my gaze trails over her dark brown hair pulled into a braid. I don’t know the names for different shades, but in the sun, her hair catches the light until it’s got hints of glossy caramel. Another thing I shouldn’t pay attention to, but do.
That color haunts my dreams.
“Blondes.” The lie feels wrong on my tongue, but telling her the truth would be like Pandora taking a peek into a box that should have stayed shut.
She gives me a thumbs up. “I’ve got your back, coffee buddy.”
Right. Coffee Buddy. Just what I want to be.
3
rose
“Reed?”I call as if I don’t know where he is. This guy is so predictable. Of course he’s in my bedroom.
“Come on out, honey,” I croon as I climb the stairs. “I’ve got your dinner ready for you.”
Not that he cares. I’d hoped a tasty meal would lure him down, but he’s got a one-track mind. I call his name again as I walk into my bedroom. Dropping onto my knees, I offer him the only thing that gets his attention.
I poke my head under the bed, holding out a slim packet of goopy cat treats. Four feet away, crammed between the fluffy area rug and the bed frame, blue eyes shine at me.
He doesn’t even have the decency to give me a “meow.” He’s that spiteful.