She grins. "If I'm going to look like the Hulk from eating all those leafy greens, I might as well go out with a bang."
* * *
"Come on,Autumn, you know you have some good stories." Faith pushes her empty dinner plate out of her way and leans her forearm on the table. "Spill."
Autumn pushes a lone piece of zucchini around her plate. She made roasted vegetable enchiladas that were a thousand times more delicious than anything I made for Faith in all the time we've eaten together. I'm not sure what has shocked me more since I brought Faith home from chemo: Autumn's cooking ability—which she claims is just following a recipe, not real talent—or her inviting me to stay for dinner.
Autumn twists her lips and tips her head, looking at the wall behind me as she thinks. Her eyes light up, and she looks back down to me, then to her mother, her lips curling into a fond smile.
"There was a homeless man who hung out by a fountain near my apartment. Sometimes, if I was stopping to grab something to eat on my way home, I'd grab food for him too. Usually just the same thing I was getting. But this one Saturday morning I was on my way out to run an errand, and I asked him if there was anything specific he would like me to get for him, and…" She pauses, looking at us intriguingly. "Do you want to guess what he asked for?"
I look across the table at Faith, seated beside Autumn. She grins and says, "Condoms."
Autumn's eyes widen and I laugh. "Mom, for real?"
Faith shrugs. "Is it so farfetched?"
Autumn thinks about it. "I guess not. But … well, no. That's not what he asked for."
"My turn," I declare, making a show of rolling my shoulders and clapping twice, like I'm ready to go. "I think he asked you for a dozen eggs."
"Hah!" Autumn belts out. "No, but you're in the ballpark. He asked me for organic soy milk."
My mouth drops open. I was kidding about the eggs.
“Organic scmorganic, what’s the obsession with this organic stuff?” Faith bellows, and I grin. “If you tell me to go gluten free, you’re fired.”
Autumn’s brows knit together. “We may have to consider gluten free, Mom.”
I can see that the comment triggers Faith and I don’t want them to argue. I want Autumn to stay happy and carefree, so I quickly get back on topic.
"How did he keep it cold? The homeless guy?"
"No idea. But I did as he asked. And it made him happy."
Faith smiles and sits back, thawed since the gluten free threat. "That was nice. Better than the story you told me about that time the guy on the street in New York shoved a CD into your hand as you passed him and then Matt—"
"Oh, right, that was crazy," Autumn breaks in. She gives Faith a warning look. It's subtle, but I didn't miss it. There was a story there that she didn’t want me to know.
All I can think is:Who the fuck is Matt?
I stand, taking my plate with me as I go. When I make a grab for Autumn's plate, she reels her hand back too quick, pulling it from my reach without a word of explanation. Then she takes Faith's plate too but doesn’t make a move for mine.
Okay…
I turn around and head for the kitchen and feel Autumn right behind me.
She pulls up next to me at the sink and places her small stack of bowls beside my single one.
"I'll do the dishes." My voice is gruff. I can't help it. The second the dude Matt’s name left Faith’s lips, it turned me inside-out with jealousy. I'm not an idiot; I don't expect Autumn turned into a virginal princess when she and I broke up. Until now I've tried to never, ever consider her with anybody else. Given what it's doing to me right now, that was a good call on my part. But now I’m wondering if she has a boyfriend back in New York.
Faith and I came to an agreement years ago: we don’t talk about Autumn. Now I’m wondering if that was wise.
Autumn frowns at me. "Are you okay? You seem … off."
I don't want to admit what’s going on, so instead I reach around her for the scrub brush and snatch up the soap. Who the hell is Matt? An ex? A current? A friend? Matt had better be short for Matilda because this was seriously stressing me out. Honestly, I was shocked she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. Twenty-eight and still single? She was going to get snatched up quick.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” I growl.
