“Just so you know what we’re looking forward to.” She winks and then dips a fish stick in tartar sauce casually.
“I could’ve done without knowing.” I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest.
Mom waves her fork at my plate. “Eat up, sweetie. Cobbler is waiting for you.”
How could I forget?
From behind a bush, I peek through the branches and watch as Jeff pulls my mom in for a kiss, gives her ass a squeeze—ugh, old people—and then they both get in their cars and head to work. I don’t pop out of the bushes right away, instead, I wait another two minutes just to make sure they didn’t forget anything. With my luck, they’d return home just as I was busting open a bag of chips.
When I feel the coast is clear, I move around the bush, attempting to not snag my black pencil skirt on a branch—can’t afford to lose any good interview clothes—and I trudge across the street in my generic black heels. Thank God for seven-foot shrubs, because I don’t think they noticed a thing. I tiptoe up the sidewalk to the house, unlock the door, slip inside, and then let out a deep breath.
Mission accomplished. Although, now I’m wondering why I didn’t just drive to Kelsey’s place rather than worry about all this subterfuge.
The hum of the fridge fills the rather quiet house. Everything is in order, not a throw pillow out of place, not a single dish in the sink. Mom probably wants this. Peace. The ability to enjoy the home she’s worked so hard to keep.
Not that I’m loud or obnoxious or a bad “roommate,” but there’s something to having a house to yourself, being able to do what you want without the repercussions of someone walking in on you. That’s what Mom and Jeff want desperately.
I know this because they mention it almost every day.
I need to find a job, and quick.
Not only because I want to be able to give my mom peace with Jeff, but because this girl doesn’t have much in the bank account and student loans won’t pay themselves. Not to mention my high school reunion is coming up and wouldn’t it just be a freaking cactus to the armpit if I show up, unemployed, up to my eyeballs in student loans, wearing a dress from five years ago, and still living with my mom?
And it’s not as if I can’t show up, because if I don’t show up, Angela will know why, and I can’t give her the satisfaction of knowing I relied on her.
No, I need to figure this out.
I head back to my bedroom and change out of my work outfit and into a pair of shorts and a ratty Taylor Swift shirt that I’ve had for over a decade.
As I make it back into the living room, my phone beeps with a text.
Kelsey: All clear?
Lottie: Clear.
A few minutes later, Kelsey comes busting through the door with tequila and margarita fixings in hand. “The items to forget all your troubles are here.”
I walk up to her, take the tequila, and then give her a hug. “Thank you for coming over.”
“What are sisters for? Plus, I have a light day today. Just fielding some emails. I brought my computer with me so I can get some work done as well.”
“While drinking?” I ask, brow raised. “Doesn’t seem like a smart idea.”
“We’re going to take it slow.” She gives me a pointed look. “Alcohol can ease the pain, but it’s not going to fix anything. Unless . . . have you decided to tell Mom and Jeff? Because if that’s the case, I’ll get shit-faced with you right now. You say the word, and our heads will be battling for prime-time toilet space in two hours.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m not telling Mom and Jeff.” Margarita fixings in hand, we both walk to the kitchen, where we set everything on the counter. “I don’t think I have it in me to tell them. You should’ve seen their faces last night when they were talking about having the house to themselves and having the opportunity to finally dance around naked.”
“Ew.” Kelsey’s face scrunches up.
“Tell me about it. It was a visual I didn’t need while trying to choke down Mom’s fish sticks.” I grab two glasses and a shaker from the cabinet. Kelsey goes to the freezer for a tray of ice cubes—Mom doesn’t believe her fridge needs to be updated, just like the roof. “But they were excited about me leaving, and to tell them that there’s no end in sight at this moment, it makes me want to drink this entire bottle of tequila.” I press my hand to my face. “I’m such a failure, Kelsey.”
She slips in behind me and gives me a hug. I wrap my arms around hers and hold her tight, letting myself take advantage of the sisterly hug.
“You’re not a failure,” Kelsey says. “You’ve just hit a bump in the road.”
“You all told me she was going to screw me over at some point, and maybe I thought that in the beginning, but after finding a groove with work and proving my worth at the company, I thought I could trust her. I truly thought I’d found my place.” I shake my head. “I’m an idiot.”
“You’re not an idiot.” She pats my hands before releasing me. “But maybe you make some bad decisions at times.”
“I make so many bad decisions. Remember that time you told me not to ask out Tyler Dretch because you said he liked you, but I tried to prove you wrong and asked him out anyway? He told me he wanted to date the younger version of myself. That was in high school. HIGH SCHOOL, Kelsey.”
She chuckles. “I know. I told you not to.”
“And then when I bought those peach-colored seersuckers? I convinced you they were the newest fashion but it just hadn’t hit the market yet, and I wore them to the beach only for them to tear in the crotch seam when I bent over? My ass crack never cinched up so tight and so fast in my life.”
“I can still see the horrified look on your face as you felt the first ocean breeze cross your lady bits. Not wearing underwear, another bad decision.”
“You see? I don’t even know what a good decision is.”
“That’s not true. Those are just small things. You’ve made some good decisions.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, pouring the margarita ingredients into the shaker. “Please, regale me with my amazing decisions.”
Kelsey leans against the counter and taps her chin. “Uh . . . you . . . well, there was the time . . . hmm, oh, what about . . . eh, maybe not that . . .”
“Please, keep them coming,” I say dryly. “You’re showering me with all my good decisions. I can barely breathe from all the flattery.”
“Just give me a second, sheesh—oh, you got your master’s in business. That was a great idea.”
“Was it?” I ask her. “Because I’ve spent the last year using my measly paycheck to pay off my hefty student loans. And that master’s in business did absolutely nothing for me other than land me a job with Angela, which . . . we know how that ended.”
“Oh, I forgot about the student loans. Are they bad?” Kelsey’s face scrunches up.
I shake the mixer and say, “I honestly can’t even look, I’m too scared. I have them on autopay right now.”
“How much do you have in the bank?”
I wince.
It’s bad.
And I knew she was going to ask the question, but it doesn’t make it any easier.