“And two bathrooms,” Lillian added, a little reverently.
The realtor smiled. “Let me know if you’d like to apply. I’m expecting a couple of applications on this one, but I’ll give you priority if you get back to me today. St. Ives tenants always get fast-tracked.”
They looked at each other and smiled.
But Bea’s was strained. She hated this part—the pretending. The not-yet-telling. The slow-motion betrayal of someone who’d trusted her enough to make a plan.
But what was she supposed to say? She’d tried, several times, to suggest that Lillian might be better off finding someone else to live with. But Lillian had been adamant.
Across the street, a bakery sat like a lure.Fig’s Fable.
They’d passed it on the way in. It had a soft glass glow, chalkboard menu, and the smell of cinnamon in the air. Nothing fancy, just staples that were probably made from someone’s grandma’s handwritten recipes.
They snagged an empty table, one of only a handful inside, each holding a little paper bag and a coffee cup.
Bea tore hers open, took a bite, and nearly levitated.
“I’m not saying this croissant is a religious experience,” she said, mouth full, “but I would confess things for it.”
The Freudian slip made her immediately stop chewing, then swallow guiltily.
Like the fact that I don’t know if I’m staying. That I’m probably not even going to be here next year.
Lillian thankfully didn’t notice. “We’ll be walking distance to work. Twenty-five-minute drive to St. Ives,” she said. “Which isn’t so bad since grads only have classes two days a week.”
“The rent’s either very reasonable, or St. Ives is very generous,” Bea added. “It’d be covered by one and half of our subsidies.”
“It feels like a real life, doesn’t it?”
It did. It really did.
It felt like the version of her who stayed.
Not Mrs. King.Bea.
She blinked back into the moment. “Speaking of real life, are you going steady with…what’s his name again?”
Lillian flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Adam.”
“How many dates?”
“Three and a half.”
“Only?! It’s been two months since Gage and I witnessed the lint seduction.”
“He went somewhere straight after that for over a month.” Lillian blushed deeper. “We texted.”
“Okay. So, three and a half dates in four weeks. Respectable. You going to explain what half a date is?”
“I was eating lunch alone. He walked in, saw me mid-noodle-slurp, and asked if he could join.”
“That sounds like a full date.”
“Well there was no eye contact at first. But he got up to get me chili oil.”
“Lils, that’s flirting in the UR.”
Lillian pressed her lips together. “We talked about books.”
