“Sure is.” I sit back in my seat and rub the side of my neck. Lily is kicking ass and taking names.
“And how is Callan?” Jane asks. “He was the one who busted his knee, right?”
“Yep. He and Makai are the ones that own the bar. Well, actually it’s four bars now. And he’s dating a great girl. And they’re having a baby.”
Harley grumbles something under his breath and shoves a forkful of egg into the slot in his beard where his lips should be. Alice gasps and knocks over her tea.
Jane gives me the strangest look. It’s like the light dies in her gray eyes and her lips curve up forcefully and get stuck.
“You’ll have to tell him congratulations from me,” Jane says. “Not that I suspect he’d remember me.”
“Of course he would,” I say.
“Maybe,” she concedes.
None of the guys could forget the months I spent in a depressed haze after she moved away. Although I never spilled the tea on what happened between us, I’m certain they got the gist of it.
I don’t say that though because she looks like she’d prefer to be in any other conversation. “I bought a house.”
“You did?” Her smile turns genuine and her eyes light up. She touches my arm. It’s innocent. Unthought out. I’m all too aware of the prickle of my skin under her fingers.
We’d talked about our plans a lot back in the day. First college and then life after school. Of course my plans had always involved her. We were going to find a place together and turn it into the perfect home for two best friends. But then Oliver came along, and her plans changed. Suddenly they didn’t involve me anymore. And then she was gone. Just like that. Of course we tried to stay in touch, but the texts slowed down to the occasional birthday message or Christmas missive or otter memes. “Uh, yes. The old rowhouse I wanted. I found the perfect place. Started renovating it.”
“That’s so great,” Jane says, her voice full of excitement.
“It’s still a work in progress,” I admit. “My friend Vale helped me gut the interior.” Swinging an axe through cabinetry and plaster board was surprisingly therapeutic. “Lily did up the plans and helped me buy all the fixtures. Then I put in all new floors, redid the bathrooms, added a state-of-the-art kitchen.”
“That sounds fantastic, son,” Harley says.
“It really does.” Jane beams at me. “I’d love to see it.”
“And is there a woman in the picture?” Alice asks, gingerly nibbling at a piece of toast. “Someone special?”
“Oh my God, Mom.” Jane drops her gaze to her plate. It’s like she’s trying to bore a hole with her eyes through the ceramic and the inch-thick wooden tabletop underneath it.
“I’m interested in Hudson’s life,” Alice says. “We haven’t seen him in so long.”
Jane snaps her head up. “That’s not what—”
“Nope,” I jump in. As a buffer. Some things don’t change, like her mom’s meddling driving Jane crazy. “No one serious. Eternal bachelor here.”
“You don’t want to settle down?” Alice asks. “What about babies?”
“I... um...” Actually I would love to settle down. Watching my friends find love has me all kinds of emotional and tingly. Watching them act like total loved up tools makes me want that for myself. Point me in the direction of my happy ever after and this guy is going to rock the hell out of falling hard and fast. And kids. Yes, I’d love a couple... or seven. “I mean not any time soon. But when the right woman comes along...” I glance at Jane. “Sure.”
“I can’t believe you.” Jane pushes away from the table and stands up. She glares at her mother with overly bright eyes. The rosy color in her cheeks intensifies. Her chair scrapes on the old linoleum as she slides it into place. “It was nice to see you, Hudson. But I’m not really good company at the moment.”
I stand up as Jane stalks out of the kitchen. I’m confused. Unsure if... I would have gone after her when we were kids, but now... do I leave? Was it something I said? Or did?
“You need to back off her, Alice,” Harley grumbles.
Jane’s mom wrings her hands. “I didn’t mean to upset her.”
He squeezes her shoulder as he rises to his feet. “But you’re not helping by pushing so hard.” Shoving his chair in he moves to my side as we both study the empty door through which Jane disappeared. “It’s not you. Don’t take it personal.”
“Kind of feels personal.” I have no idea what’s going on with her, but it used to be, I would have been the first person she turned to.
“She’s had it rough recently.” He huffs softly. “But it’s good that you two are spending time together again. I haven’t seen her smile since she came home. She did today. That means something.”
“What on earth have I missed?” I scrub at my jaw with a couple of knuckles as he leaves the room. A lot apparently.
“Maybe you’re exactly what she needs.” Alice starts stacking up the dishes.
“I think I’ll go up and see if she’s okay,” I say.
“You remember which room?”
“Of course.” I head for the staircase.
***
Her room is the same as I remember. Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber and One Direction posters tacked to sunshine yellow paint. Glossy white armoire with fake round diamond handles against the wall to my left. Four-poster bed with the blue check comforter. A pile of floor cushions in bright, happy colors by the window seat.
Except she used to be neat. This is the official testing site for the latest nuclear detonation. Worse than I’ve ever seen. Clothes are piled haphazardly on her unmade bed. Three overflowing suitcases are somewhat stacked on top of each other. Perched on the precarious mountain, the Matthews’s cat, Mr. Whiskas, is napping. The tortoiseshell must be twenty years old by now. He’s looking well past his prime. And Jane...
Well, Jane is in the spot where I first laid eyes on her so many years ago. She’s pulled a colorful fuzzy shawl over her lap and is leafing through a magazine. But not the good kind with naked bodies and hilariously implausible stories about the guy who lives in his basement banging three hot and barely dressed mail women. Nope, this is one of those girly mags with shiny stick figures on one page and that brownie recipe you’ll feel guilty for baking and eating on the opposite one. My sister subscribes to them too, but I don’t get the attraction. They’re unrealistic advertising at its finest most of the time.
Jane flips to the next page, but instead of reading whatever article is on it she closes her eyes and rests her head against the wall with a sigh.
I rap three knuckles against the wooden frame. “Can I come in?”
She startles and her eyelids pop open. “You didn’t leave?”
“Nope.” I push my fingers into my pockets as I enter. “You can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“Oh, I think I could.” She closes the magazine and places it on a mismatched stack of mags and paperbacks.
“And why would you want to do that?” I lean against the drywall beside the window seat and study my old house. The cladding is covered with a slick of fresh white paint. And my old curtains have been replaced with ones that appear to have Toy Story characters on them. Woody. Slinky. Mr. Potato Head. That little green alien. The teen boy who moved into that room fifteen years ago would have thought they were horrific but I’m kinda jealous that the younger version of me never had those curtains. I didn’t have a bedroom until we moved in with Lolly and Dick. Just a pull-out sofa I shared with Lily.