The only reason I dared it is because I woke up before the ass crack of dawn. I checked two more times—still nothing from Harlow—and I drove to the home I haven’t visited since I left for college. I’m dressed in all black like a damn burglar and plan to be in and out before anyone knows I’m here.
I hold my breath as I scan the two homes I’ve dreaded laying eyes on ever again. Another reason I chose to swingby early, the street is blissfully silent. Still, there’s a painful pressure in my chest as the front door swings open. My house looks nothing like I remember. The furniture is missing. The walls are bare.
I hesitate in the entryway. A flood of emotion washes over me. I’m not sure what I’m feeling—anxiety, for sure—but also sadness and a little nostalgia. Even if the house looks like a stranger’s, my mind recalls a childhood of teasing and play-fighting with Landon. All the times I secretly watched Lucy get ready to go out with her friends, being jealous of how talented she was with makeup and how effortlessly cool she was.
I look in the direction of the kitchen and think about all the mornings as a small child when I was Dad’s sous-chef. Every Sunday the two of us prepared a massive breakfast spread—looking back, I definitely got in the way more than I helped, but I never knew it at the time. He made me feel like he couldn’t make Sunday breakfast without me. I smile at the memory.
I thought I’d feel nothing but relief at this house selling, but I’m getting choked up staring at all the moving boxes and at the missing couch Mom and I would watchGrey’s Anatomyon every Thursday night.
This was my home.
I grew up here.
But it’s no longer familiar.
I know I shouldn’t care. I know I should be happy. I’ll never have to risk a chance run-in withthemagain. But there are all those memories too. I slide my hand along the wall until it catches on the small dent we left when we shoved the couch a little too hard while building a blanket fort.
Slowly, I trek deeper into the house, where the backwindow looks out into the fenced-in yard where we loved to play princesses and dragons. We forced Landon to be the dragon, obviously, and, while he always pretended to be annoyed, he got way too into the role to be convincing. My chest tightens, and I rub at it.
There’s an entire childhood of memories thatweregood once upon a time. I’m saying goodbye to those too. And I don’t know how I feel about that.
Then, with a jolt of fear, I worry what I came here for is going to be buried in a box somewhere, and I’ll never be able to find it. I rush toward the kitchen and sigh with relief that this room is mostly untouched. I easily locate what I’m looking for. I kiss the surface of it—so grateful to find it so quickly—and hurry back to my rental car. Memories I thought were long forgotten nip at my heels, forcing me to relive them and sending fresh waves of grief rolling through my body.
With one last lingering look, I say goodbye to my childhood home. I wipe the tears off my cheeks as I hit the town limit.
Sneaking back into the house, I duck past Dad, who shuffles around the kitchen as he prepares breakfast. Mom always yells at him not to overdo it since dinner is when he’s supposed to go all out, but he never listens. Cooking is his love language.
I’m glad I packed my favorite forest green dress that highlights my tits. I originally planned to wear it out with Em for New Year’s Eve, but I can’t pass up the opportunity with Harlow joining us today.
The doorbell rings right on time. As Mom leads Harlowinto the living room, she locks eyes on me and falters. Freezing mid step, she drinks me in with parted lips. Her gaze caresses my curves as she slides up my body to my face. She blushes fiercely at getting caught and focuses extra hard on what my mom says to her.
The corner of my mouth ticks up, and I take the opportunity to appreciate her beauty in turn. The strong cut of her jaw as she nods along to Mom’s story. She’s wearing a crisp red button-down and black slacks that stretch gloriously over her thick thighs. Her dark hair is in a spotless topknot, and I can’t help but imagine what it would look like draped across my pillows.
Mom leads Harlow to the food, and I grab a refill. Sipping my second mimosa, I take my plate of strawberries and find the ideal spot for presents. There aren’t assigned seats by any stretch of the definition, but Mom claims the same spot every year. On the end of the love seat, closest to the Christmas tree. It gives the perfect view of the L-shaped sectional, so she can easily watch everyone open their gifts and take approximately 375 candid photos. It also happens to put them directly across from me.
Mom pats the spot next to her, and the fabric of Harlow’s pants is tight against her thighs as she sits down. She rolls the sleeves of her shirt, those long, elegant fingers move so gracefully, my brain stalls out.
I stare, tongue heavy in my dry mouth, at the way the muscles in her forearm flex. Harlow lifts her hand high enough, my attention snags on her face. She has one eyebrow raised in question with a knowing smirk tilting the corner of her mouth up.
Oh,shit. Warmth creeps into my cheeks.
Shoving the embarrassment aside, I decide two can play this game.
I bend to set my empty plate at my feet, taking my sweet time. Harlow’s gaze narrows down the plunging neckline of my dress. Her face flushes as her brown eyes blaze with heat. I allow her another greedy second before sitting back up with a cheeky grin.
Harlow glares, then takes a long pull from her mimosa.
“This has been killing me to keep secret, and I can’t wait any longer,” Taylor announces, drawing everyone’s attention. “Landon and I got everyone something but …” She looks at Landon with a giddy smile.
Landon hops up and pulls a small gift box from the back pocket of his dark jeans. He looks a little nervous but still excited as he crosses the living room to hand it to Mom. “Will you open it?”
“Is it what I think it is?” Mom covers her mouth with her hand, and it looks like tears are forming in her eyes. That’s weird. What’s she being so emotional about?
“My goodness,” Dad says. “Tear it open, Maureen, the suspense is killing me.”
The words shake Mom from her stupor, and she tears off the wrapping paper, sending the lid flying in her haste to open it. She barely glances at whatever’s inside before squealing and jumping up and doing an excited dance. She screams while pulling Landon—then Taylor—into her arms.
I accidentally meet Harlow’s eye and am relieved she’s also as confused by Mom’s reaction. I frown in a way that asks,Do you know what’s happening?
