“Love is blind.” One of the grandmas nods sagely. “How are things working out with his brother’s room?”
“We’re getting there,” Lois says. “He gave the bed to his car guy, and he started emptying the closet, which is something.” She shrugs. “It’s hard, but he’s working on it. We’re keeping the desk and shelves—he’ll need them for work. Can’t wait for the day I don’t have to step over piles of gross scripts on my way to the living room.”
Thanks to Becca, I know all about this—how Lane lost his shit, and how that forced Lois to crash with me for a few months. It’s great to see how supportive she is of Lane and his grief, but no matter how heartwarming they may be, it’s still not enough to make me want a relationship of my own. What if Lois ended up dumping him later down the line? He’d be completely broken.
Lois reaches for her phone. “Know what sushi you want, Hope?”
Note to self—Hope = orange hair. Prudence = silver.
We order our food, and my two friends settle down around the coffee table.
“Sooo…” Becca glances at me, and my shoulders stiffen. “Lois had alotof interesting things to say about you and Don…”
“Which one’s Don?” Hope asks.
“The cute blond one?” her sister tries.
“No, that’s Lewis.”
“They’re all scrumptious,” Prudence says. “Each and every one of them.”
Becca stares at me hard. “Well?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, please!” Becca snorts. “Spill.”
I jump up. “Where?”
Prudence titters. “I think that’s what they call a diversionary tactic.”
Lois mouths a silent apology at me.
“Come on, Carrie. Spit it out. Since when are you guys BFFs?”
“Since you suggested he hit me up for ‘book boyfriend’ classes?”
I watch her smile fade as she takes in my air quotes.
“What?” She turns to Lois. “I don’t remember that. Do you?”
“Kind of. Back when school started, he asked us for tips on being less… him. Remember?”
Becca gasps. “Fuck! I forgot all about that!” She frowns at me. “So, wait—he actually meant it?”
“I guess he actually did! And by the way—thank youso muchfor the opportunity, Rebecca.”
I flash her my fakest smile. She crosses and uncrosses her legs awkwardly. She has the good grace to look embarrassed, at least.
“So, wait—you’ve been his relationship coach since September?”
I’m about to reply when she starts to giggle. And it goes on way too long.
“You done?” I ask, reaching for my soda.
“I’m sorry.” Becca dabs at her eyes. “It’s just too insane to picture.”
She’s actually crying with laughter. And that pisses me off. I should never have let us get into this conversation. It feels like she’s stepping over a boundary, somehow. Like she’s intruded into me andDonovan’s own little world. There’s no way I can tell them about Amelia, though.
