“Babe, I don’t feel so good,” she says with green cheeks.
Fantastic.
JP flashes me an apologetic glance, then turns to Austin, who says, “Sparkling water in the fridge and Advil in the cupboard in the bathroom.”
“Thank you,” JP says then wraps his arm around Audrey’s waist. “Sleep it off?”
“Yeah,” she groans, clutching her stomach. I can’t tell if she’s dramatic or if she really is two bottles deep. I observe the damage standing empty on the counter and do the math. She definitely drank the most, and I remember JP saying she doesn’t usually drink much.
“This is embarrassing,” she says.
“It happens.” I shrug. Because it does, and we all know how some nights can hit us harder than others.
Anjali starts crying her newborn baby wail as if to commiserate with Audrey.
Emily laughs—kind of. It’s more of an exhausted sigh. “This might be the lamest New Year’s Eve party ever.”
“It is not. This is by far the most impressive,” I say. “You just had a baby, you have a toddler, and you hosted three whole extra humans in your house.”
Emily embellishes her frown and gives me apologetic eyes, letting me know she is going to take her screaming baby upstairs and call it a night.
Austin chuckles as he slings an empty bottle of champagne into the trash. “Thanks for coming out, Julia. We know you have a fancy life in Chicago and could have been a lot of other places that didn’t involve spit-up and diaper blowouts.”
“It’s like being back in college,” I tease and laugh. “Why don’t you go help Emily upstairs? I can clean up. I don’t mind. Honest.”
“You sure?” he asks.
“I’m sure, Austin. Go.”
As a matter of fact, I prefer it. My favorite part of the day is preparing it for tomorrow. Cleaning up the dirt and garbage of today and giving tomorrow a clean slate is my favorite feeling.
I gather the empty bottles of champagne and toss them in the trash, then straighten the throw pillows and move Anjali’s floor gym to the corner of the room and toss Alyson’s blocks back in the respective bin. I move to the dining room, grab the remaining glasses, and bring them to the kitchen. After grabbing a rag and cleaner, I wipe down the dining table and straighten the chairs before tackling the kitchen. Snacks still litter the peninsula, and dirty dishes from dinner are gathered in the sink. I fill the sink basin with hot, soapy water while I pack up the chips, refrigerate the remaining dip, and wipe off the crumbs from the counter.
Turning to the sink to wash the dishes feels almost therapeutic. Don’t get me wrong. I hate doing dishes. But washing dishes also means my hands are busy. I can’t scroll my phone or snoop on the internet to find more information on JP and his fiancée or overanalyze our text thread. I can only wash the dishes and focus on my thoughts.
It isn’t until his hands are also in the soapy water, that I realize all my thoughts are on JP.
“Hey,” he says, taking the soapy dish from my hands for him to rinse.
“Hi,” I answer, grabbing another dish. We wash dishes for several minutes in silence until I finally admit, “I like her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” We have had zero alone moments together these last two days even though I’ve rehearsed a million conversations in my head.
“Jules—”Fuck.There it is again. “I swear Austin didn’t say you’d be here. I would never want to put you in an awkward situation—”
“You didn’t,” I cut in.
He breathes out. “I didn’t.”
A statement. Relief in each word.
“Please don’t worry, JP. I still think you’re a good guy. I’m a little pissed you hooked up with me for a couple of months when you were obviously still waiting for Audrey to come to her senses, but—”
“It wasn’t like that.”
My breath hitches. “I guess I hoped that underneath all the permission to date and be free, we were holding out for each other.”
