Her lips part slightly as she takes in my extreme honestly. I’m not usually this transparent, saying exactly what’s on my mind, I’d rather keep some mystery, not show my cards all at once. ButI’m starting to wonder why I’ve been holding back. I’m into her. She’s into me. We should give this thing a shot.
“Yeah, I don’t think it has anything to do with types. I think he just reads people well and can tell that you’d never be interested in me in a serious manner. And to be fair, I wouldn’t be interested in anything with you either.”
Ah, there it is.
I can’t fault him. He would have been right about that version of me from the past. I wasn’t interested in anything more. One-night stands were the most I could give. But Rhiannon’s different. She’s got something else… Something I can’t quite put my finger on.
What the hell is it?
It’s that she hassubstance.It’s that she pulls me out of the mundane and begs me to have fun. To relax. She radiatesjoie de vivre.
She hands me another dish to dry. “What does your brother do for work?”
“He works in construction in New York City. Builds all those ugly skyscrapers that block out the sun and keep people depressed. He also refurbishes furniture that Eden and I find. Once it’s refurbished and fixed up, we sell it in our family thrift store in Brookhaven. It’s just two miles down the road.”
“You mentioned that you manage the store’s website?”
She nods. “Eden’s in school for design right now. She wants to get into furniture designing so she’ll find random pieces abandoned on the streets in New York when she commutes for school and then bring them home with her on the train. Her and Gabriel work together to restore them and then we sell them in the shop.”
“That’s… resourceful.” And pretty fucking cool.
She smiles. “We all work together to do what we can to keep the doors open on the business and pay our bills.”
“And your parents?”
A sad look crosses her face, and I immediately regret asking.
“They died eight years ago. Eden was only ten years old when they passed and I was still in college. We’ve all had to step up and make sacrifices to keep the family business afloat. It’s our parents’ legacy which is why we all work so hard for it.”
Damn.
I couldn’t imagine losing both of my parents at the same time so tragically and being responsible for a ten-year-old while trying to finish school. It makes sense now why Gabriel is so protective of his sister, and why they are such a close-knit family.
I glance around their home and notice, maybe for the first time, just how little there is in the space. It’s all simple—just the bare necessities of mismatched furniture, a few family photos on the walls, and a throw rug on the floor. Yet it still feels warm and lived-in, like every piece belongs here.
It hits me how different this is from the home that I grew up in. Despite having two living parents and grandparents, our homes never felt this inviting. My childhood was spent in cold, sleek skyscrapers, just like where I live now.
Visits there meant walking on eggshells. Rosie and I had to keep our hands to ourselves, terrified we might break something and earn Grandpa’s wrath. The house that my dad raised me and Rosie in was just as bad. A fabric couch would have never been found in his possession.
This house, though? It feels like the kind of home I used to read about in bedtime stories. Cozy, welcoming, a place where you’dwant to sit down with a warm drink and stay awhile. It’s the kind of space I didn’t know I’d been missing or thought I’d ever enjoy.
I rub my chest, an ache spreading as I realize just how different we really are.
She busts my balls more than anyone else I know, but she has a damn good reason. She’s hardworking, tenacious, precocious, and resilient. She and Gabriel are the ones keeping the lights on, the roof over their heads, and the love in their home while they raise Eden.
And even though they’ve lost the two people who were supposed to protect and guide them through life, they have more family than I do. The family they have left means more to them than I could ever understand.
I finish drying the last plate and stack it in the cabinet, finally noticing the chips and scratches in the surface of the wood.
I grew up with privilege all around me, practically born a nepo baby, but here I am, now seeing it—blind to the cracks in my own foundation, the dust on the floor of their simple home, or the dings in her dishes. I realize those things are what make her homefeellike a home.
In all its imperfection, it’s beautiful. Just like Rhiannon.
“Well, that’s it,” she says drying her hands and turning to me.
I quickly return to lawyer mode, neutralizing my expression so that she can’t read what I’m thinking. Knowing Rhiannon and the pride she has, the last thing she’d want is to think that I’m pitying her. And I don’t pity her. Ienvyher. Which is a ridiculous thing to think about someone who was forced to take on so much at such a young age and handed some super shitty circumstances.
“So, my boxers were an interesting dinner outfit choice.” I point at them.
