“It’s just?” I jump in swiftly as my lips curl in triumph. “What? You thought about me, right? You expected me to be a certain way. Boxes of ramen? Take-out menus? A carton of milk and a few bags of cereal and some instant macaroni?”
“No,” she says, but I don’t think I’m imagining the faint color in her cheeks. She doesn’t meet my eye as she goes on. “Or…yeah, maybe that.”
Itskat her and shake my head. “So judgmental. Because I’m in my twenties and living alone, I must not know how to cook? I don’t take care of myself?”
She shrugs, but her gaze is still evasive. “You told me yourself that you lived with your dad until recently. You said all your money was his. I thought—” She clears her throat. “I thought maybe someone cooked for you. Sorry. I was wrong.”
I try not to wince, but it doesn’t quite work. “Your assumptions make sense,” I say lightly. “But no, I’m a decent cook. I enjoy it, actually, and I make my own food.”
When her lips twitch, some of the tension leaves me.
“Lucky does have some pretty good take-out options, though,” she says, and I can’t help but smile a little.
“Yeah?”
“We’ve got some good Mexican and some great Chinese,” she says with a nod.
“I’ll try it sometime.”
“You should. We just had dim sum the other night and it was delicious.” She shoots me an unconvincing smile. “Our last take-out before I put myself in debt again.”
“You live with your sisters, right?”
“Yep. For now, anyway. They’ll both marry the guys they’re dating, probably sooner rather than later, and then I don’t know what I’ll do.” Her shoulders twitch as her voice tightens so slightly I might be imagining it. “I was going to buy the place we’re living, but that’s obviously not an option anymore. Not currently, anyway—with more debt now and more of my savings spoken for. I guess…” She trails off. “I guess I’ll have to see if I’m still living there when I’ve saved up enough for a down payment again.”
Something she said to her ex reappears from my memory:I had other plans for my money.
The house, then—that’s what she’d hoped to buy. And I can see it in her posture, in the tenseness of her words, and even more in the way she’s trying to sound casual: the loss of that possibility was a blow. Sympathy rises in me, along with discomfort.
It doesn’t seem fair that I’m sitting on all this money I resent, doing nothing with it, while Aurora is willing to work her butt off for a few more dollars.
“So how did you end up here, exactly?” she says now, gesturing around the kitchen as she leans back against the counter. For a second she actually looks like she wants to jump up and sit on the counter itself, but she doesn’t, which is ashame. “You said this place was your grandmother’s? And you’re only just moving in?”
I let the change of subject slide, because I don’t know what I could say to comfort her, and she wouldn’t welcome it anyway.
So I hum in assent and settle myself against the table, avoiding stepping on a box of oatmeal. Then I grin. “I thought it was time to move out of my father’s house. Maybe even get a big kid job of my own.” The words are casual, as I mean them to be, but they don’t stop the faint resentment that rises inside of me as I speak—resentment at myself for waiting so long. “One step at a time, I guess.”
Aurora nods. Her face is neutral, but her eyes are curious as they dart over me and then return to their vague exploration of the old-fashioned kitchen.
“Ask,” I tell her when her gaze darts surreptitiously back to meet mine.
“What?”
I nod at her. “You have questions, don’t you? Didn’t I tell you I’m an open book? So ask.”
Her eyes narrow thoughtfully, her brows furrowing, but it only takes her a second before she shrugs. “Fine. What’s been stopping you, then? From moving away or doing something else?”
“Absolutely nothing,” I say automatically. The words taste unpleasant on my tongue, but I go on, spitting out the thoughts I had about myself earlier. “Cowardice. Or laziness? Some unflattering combination of the two.” Then, my voice still casual, I add, “You always ask the questions with ugly answers.”
Another shrug, and now she crouches down and begins picking up random food items from the floor. “Sorry.” She dumps a few bottles of vitamins into the cardboard box on the table.
Amusement leaps in my chest at this, an authentic reaction that feels good. “No, you’re not.”
Her eyes dart up to mine as she bites back a smile. “Maybe only a little.” She tilts her head, gently picking up a bag of rice. “So what did you study in school? If you do something else, what will it be?” She pauses and then goes on, “For that matter—what is it you donow?”
“I go where I’m needed, mostly,” I say with a shrug. “I fill in here and there, like spending a few weeks at Soul2Soul. This isn’t my dad’s only company; he started this one himself, but he’s an investor in several other companies, too. He always finds a way to put me to work.”
Aurora hums, looking interested. There are a few strands of silvery-blonde hair stuck to her forehead, I notice for the first time, and my hand twitches with the impulse to brush them away from her skin. I shove that hand into my pocket to make sure it behaves.
