“I guess none.” But we both know there is. “Only thing, I’ve got to get back early Wednesday to take Maurice to physio.”
“Oh, right.” I swallow a bite. “Sunday then. Head up in the afternoon, make a day of it.”
“Sure.” She pauses and looks down at her plate, then she raises her gaze back to mine. “It’ll probably be my last weekend here.”
The fork freezes halfway to my mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Maurice sees his doctor on Thursday. If he gets the green light to go back to work, I’ll leave next week.”
That hits like a roundhouse kick to the chest. It’s not like I didn’t know this would happen. I just hadn’t let myselffeelit. My impulse is to shrug it off and press it down like I did five years ago. But I can’t fake nonchalance, even if I tried. I go for something playful instead.
“How am I supposed to go back to nuked eggs and an empty bed?”
“You know a few cooking basics now. And I doubt your bed will stay empty for long.”
That pisses me all the way off. “You think I’ll have someone lined up the minute you step?”
“Well… maybe not the same day. Gonna need a little mourning period,” she says, attempting to joke, but it doesn’t land with humor.
“Are you serious right now?”
She looks at me, face pinched. “What are you getting mad about?”
“The shit you say.” I stuff another bite of French toast into my mouth. It had been delicious moments ago, but now it tastes like sawdust on my tongue.
“Well, it’s not like you’re going to remain celibate,” she retorts.
“That’s not even the point.”
“What is?”
“Dropping this news on me without warning.”
“You knew I’d be leaving.”
“Not this soon.”
“I said I’d be here for a few weeks, and it’s been that. I have my life to get back to in New York. My work. Projects waiting.”
“What about Queenie?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Mom likes cats. I’ll introduce them, see if it’s a fit.”
“That’s how it is, Lot? Just hand her off like she doesn’t mean a damn thing?” I know I’m projecting. I know I need to calm the fuck down.
Her expression shifts, confusion boiling into anger. “It’s not like that. Why are you giving me shit for no reason?”
“You said I let you go last time like I didn’t care. And now you’re mad because I do. Make up your mind.” Appetite gone, I push back from the table, grab my plate, and bring it to the sink. Heart jackhammering in my chest, I rinse the plate off under the warm water, needing something—anything— to keep moving.
I hate this. Hate feeling this raw. Hate being split open, with all these emotions flooding out. The fear. The want. The goddamn need.
Behind me, the chair scrapes back. Knowing Lot, I half expect her to cuss me out, scoop up Queenie, and disappear from my life again.
But she doesn’t. She steps up to me, her tone soft. “I didn’t expect you to get this upset.”
I shut off the water, take a breath, and turn to her. “I didn’t mean what I said about Queenie. That was low.”
“Yeah, it was.”
