CHAPTER 6
Emma
“Em! You’re finally home!”my sister cries as she sits at my kitchen island with a glass of wine. “I’ve been dying to hear how your date went the other night.”
I wince. It’s only been a few days since that disaster, and I’m still embarrassed about getting catfished. I haven’t even told my sister about it, partly because I’ve been swamped at work. But mostly because I’m ashamed to admit that I don’t have as good of a bullshit meter as I thought.
Sadie’s hair is up in a messy ponytail, and she’s wearing overalls that are covered in paint. It’s nice to have her back in my apartment, where she stays on breaks from college. She’s finally done with her university classes for good and is leaving right after graduation for New York to do a paid internship with one of the most prestigious interior design firms in the country. “Want a glass?” she asks. “It’s pretty good.”
“I know. I bought it,” I say with a laugh. I eye up the brand-new bag of jalapeño potato chips I just got, which are now mostlygone. Nothing in my cupboard or my closet is safe from my sister. But that’s the way it’s always been.
“It’s a good thing I love you so much because I’ve been dreaming about those chips all day.”
I kick off my heels and drop my bag.
“Oops,” Sadie says, pouring me a generous helping of white wine. I drink deeply from the glass. The crisp flavor flows over my tongue, instantly relaxing me.
“You’re painting your room? I thought you loved the indigo,” I ask. It’s actually just a small corner of the living room that’s separated by a folding partition. The semiprivate space contains a daybed just big enough to sleep one.
“Ilove it. Butyoudon’t. You like boring colors.”
“But it’s your space,” I say with a frown.
“I hate to break it to you, but you’re about to be an empty-nester. Once I graduate, I won’t be living here. So you can do whatever you want with it. You can buy a desk. Or set up a craft station so you can color-code things. Or you can keep the daybed for when you want to nap. Just kidding. You never nap because you’re part cyborg,” Sadie says with a cheeky grin. Her dimples peek out. She looks like sunshine in her yellow T-shirt and blond hair. Sometimes I wonder how we’re related.
My expression is serious. “But you said you don’t want to live in New York long-term and would come back to LA when you were done with your internship. You might need a place to stay.”
I try to walk the delicate balance of giving her practical advice without crushing her optimism. Sadie believes in following her heart, not her head, and rarely looks before she leaps.
We’re opposites in that way. I always need a plan. And twenty backups. I want data, a ten-page pro-and-con list, and a dozen bar graphs before I decide.
“You don’t need to worry about me anymore. I’m a full-fledged adult now. Plus, you remember my roommate fromcollege, Rachel? Her parents are loaded and just bought her a great apartment in West Hollywood as a graduation gift. She has a spare bedroom that she’s willing to rent to me for next to nothing.”
I nod slowly, my heart twisting at the idea of Sadie no longer living here during her frequent breaks. Part of me will be happy not to be squeezed into this small space with my sister, who isn’t the neatest and is allergic to doing the dishes. But another, bigger part already feels the loss of her, and she hasn’t even left.
“Fine.” I push down my conflicted feelings. “But you’ll always have a place on my couch. And maybe I’ll move somewhere a little better, somewhere that has two bedrooms, now that—”
“Now that you’re not paying for my school?” Her voice is quiet, and I recognize the familiar guilt in her eyes, which I hate. “Have I thanked you again for all your help?”
“Not in the last twenty-four hours,” I say with a laugh.
“I promise I’ll pay you back every cent.” Her expression is determined.
I shake my head. “Sadie, you’re my sister. Remember what Mom told us before she died?”
Her eyes glint. “That we need to take care of each other. But the problem is, it’s always you taking care of me.”
“Well, Iamthe older one.” I say, knowing that she hates it when I baby her.
Other unspoken words flow between us. When our mom made us promise to take care of each other, it was as if she knew our dad wouldn’t be able to hold it together after she died, as if she’d seen into the future. A future in which he became lost to his pain and addictions without the love of his life. As the eldest, I kept our world running through the chaos, ensuring homework was done, forms were signed, and bills were paid.
“So… tell me about your date.”
I dig down to the bottom of the bag to snag a chip. “Apparently, he turned out not to be an actual doctor. Instead of being my potential perfect man, he was a scummy catfish dickhead,” I say between chews.
“No way! How did you know? What happened?”
“I know because my overly involved boss ran a background check on him.”
