“And she’s moving to New York City,” I add.
“So?”
“And she literally told me flat out that she only sees us as friends.”
Kat pauses, then sighs. “All right, fine,” she says. “I can’t really argue with that, I guess.” Whatever she says next sounds like mishmash beneath the whirs and squeaks of the garage door.
“One more time?” I say.
“Oh nothing, Daniel’s just being cute.” Kat giggles—the kind of flirty, airheaded giggle I’ve only heard her do when she’s talking about Harry Styles. Maybe Daniel is the real deal after all. “Anyway, I need to start getting ready, but you are telling meeverythingwhen you get here. What time are you coming over?”
My stomach swan dives as I struggle out of my coat with only one free hand. I’m feeling a little caught in my own trap. “I, uh. Actually.” I kick off one shoe, then the other, each of them hitting the mudroom wall with athud. By the time I complete my escape artist act, my mind is made up. “I think I’m gonna hang back today.”
“To go to Ellie’s?”
“No, I just really need to clean.” I fling my coat over a kitchen chair in passing, trying to play off this whole momentas casually as possible. “My mom would kill me if she saw what the house looks like right now.”
“But she’s not home till Sunday,” Kat reminds me, not that I’ve really forgotten.
“Sure, but work is going to take up most of the next two days.”
I tug open the fridge and pop the top on a can of lemon LaCroix, waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “Kat? You there?” I pull my phone away from my face just to verify the call hasn’t dropped.
“I’m here,” she says, but her voice is raw. “I just don’t love the thought of you staying back from Florida just to spend Thanksgiving alone. Especially when the whole plan was to spend the day together.”
My breath rattles around my lungs as I try to form a response that won’t immediately start a fight. Since when does Kat care about sticking to the plan? She sure didn’t care last night. Maybe if she had, and Blackout Wednesday had gone as intended, I wouldn’t be so opposed to third wheeling today. I step over an open bag of Cool Ranch Doritos and collapse onto the white leather couch, which releases a little puff of air beneath me. Even the couch is sighing.
I’m still trying to figure out what to say when Kat speaks up again, this time in a soft, unsettling whisper. “Is this about last night?”
I let an exhale leak through my teeth. Kat’s not dumb. Of course this is about last night. But I really don’t want to have this conversation—not with Daniel listening, not while I’m still a little hungover, and really, not at all.
“Of course not,” I lie. “This is a me thing. I really need to clean and probably study, too, so I should hang back. Don’t worry, I’m good by myself.”
Kat pauses, trying to decide whether to believe me or not. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’m like Macaulay Culkin inHome Alone, only older and gayer.”
I can hear her smile through the phone, the tension breaking. “I always thought there was something gay about him in those movies. I mean, he was obsessed with those two older men.”
“He was ten and they were trying to rob his house,” I remind her, taking my first sip of LaCroix, which I immediately regret. It tastes like carbonated lemon Pledge. “Bleurgh. Have you had lemon LaCroix?” I ask, airing out my tongue.
“No, is it good?”
“No.”
Kat laughs. “Noted.”
I set the can down on a pink tile coaster. Maybe it’ll taste better once I’ve fully squashed this hangover. “I think I’m gonna take a nap before I clean.”
“Sounds good. Text me later, okay?” Kat says, sounding marginally less sad. “And if you change your mind, you know you’re always welcome here.”
“I know, I know. Thanks.” I reach for a throw blanket, trying to spread it over my lap with just one hand. “Daniel, good luck meeting the family. Watch out, they’re all just as judgy as Kat.” Bonding over jokes at his girlfriend’s expense is the only type of bonding I know how to do.
Daniel laughs. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll put on my judgiest face.”
“You’re the worst, you know that?” Kat whines. Whether it’s directed at me, Daniel, or both, I’m not sure.
“You loooooove me,” I remind her.
