“He came in for a coffee,” I confess.
“How was it seeing him after all these years?” Rose asks.
I think about it for a moment.
“It was fine. Easy,” I explain.
Lily smiles at me. “You don’t smile like that for everyone.”
“Smile like what?”
“Like your smile is going to reach your ears and jump off your face,” Rose describes.
“Listen, sure, I liked him in high school. Everyone has crushes. But that was over twenty years ago, heck, he lived in LA for years. I am sure that he has a wife, or even a girlfriend. It shocked me to see him, but that’s all,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
My sisters are looking at me. Rose and Daphne seem to believe me, at least enough not to carry it on. But Lily, she looks at me like she can tell I am lying, she knows how I still feel.
Thankfully, that conversation is dropped, and we move on to talk about work and school. Once we catch up, we decide to curl up under a couple of blankets and watchHow to Lose a Guy in 10 Days.
A classic.
The stairs up to my apartment creak the same way they always have; the second I unlock the door, the scent of dried lavender and my vanilla candle that was burning this morning wraps around me like a warm hug.
My place is small, but it’s mine.
Earthy tones everywhere, soft browns, muted greens, blush throws folded over the back of the couch. The kind of space that feels like it belongs to someone’s grandmother who bakes bread and grows her own herbs.
I look at my sourdough loaf sitting on my counter, fresh from the oven this morning. My sourdough starter called “Taylor Dough-See” is sitting beside it.Gilmore Girlsis one of my comfort shows, and it’s almost always on in the background. I look around my apartment at the vintage frames, pressed flowers, and a chipped teapot I found when I was thrifting that I refuse to throw away.
Grandma cottage core is what I call it.
It’s cozy, warm, and peaceful.
I slip off my shoes and set my bag on the little wooden table by the door, the one I refinished myself during my second year of interior design school. Before everything got complicated.
The bathroom light flicks on, bright against the softness of the apartment. I step in front of the mirror and start removing my jewelry, earrings, and then my rings.
I look at myself through the glass. I have never looked like my sisters.
I’ve always been curvier. Hips that are round instead of narrow. A waist that doesn’t disappear. A body that takes up space.
It never bothered me growing up.
Not once.
Until Ryan.
We met in interior design school paired with real estate for a semester project. I had to decorate a model room in a house he was “selling”. He showed up in pressed button-downs and had a confidence that made me melt.
He told me I made the room feel like someone could actually live in it.
He started bringing me coffee before class. Flowers “just because”. Lunch when I was busy studying. He would take me to dinners and look at me like I was something rare.
For a year, I believed him.
The shift was small.
He stopped bringing coffee. If I asked, he would sigh like I had ruined his entire day.
