“Ainsley said something about coming over to visit you soon.” Dad abruptly changes the subject.
“Ha, thanks for the warning. I’ll change the locks on my doors,” I joke.
Dad laughs. “I figured you’d like the heads-up.”
My middle sister has a habit of showing up randomly. And when she does, she leaves a random trinket in my house. Usually something delicate and breakable that I would never buy myself.
“How did you know what you were supposed to do?” I ask, dropping the question like a grenade.
“Do you mean with the product list or your sister?” He sounds confused, and it’s safe to say that I didn’t do a good job of explaining the question.
“I mean with your life. Your career, specifically. How did you know you were pursuing the right thing?”
“Aha.” It’s the universal, omniscientahaof wise dads everywhere. “Not everyone’s going to have the same opinion about it, Miles, but for your mom and me, we both had this underlying sense of peace when we started our business. That’s not to say it wasn’t hard. There were long hours and lean years when we were taking side jobs to pay the bills. But even in the midst of those hard seasons, we were content. We loved the business we were starting, and while it was a steep learning curve, we knew it was what we wanted to do.”
I listen quietly and mull over his words.
“I’m sorry it’s not a tangible answer, but it’s how your mom and I feel.”
It isn’t the answer I’m looking for. I want someone to tell me what I’m supposed to be doing. I don’t want to figure it out myself. Right now, I’m not feeling content or peaceful about the business I started, which is not how it should be. I love my coworkers. I brainstormed this business with Kingston. Of course I should be happy.
But going off of my dad’s version of knowing what the right thing is? I’m doing it all wrong.
We talk for a few more minutes before saying goodbye.
I never do remember to check the texts on my phone.
NINE
Lucy
I stand in the kitchen, flipping my grilled sandwich for dinner.
Miles never texted back, which I can only assume means it was him; he was the one who ratted me out to Willa.
Just for that, I rearranged the mug cupboard to where it’s no longer organized by size. I’ve turned it into utter chaos. The big mugs are interspersed with the little ones. I know it will make him twitch when he looks at it.
The beep from the front door echoes through the kitchen as Miles walks inside. I slap my sandwich with the spatula.
Miles hangs his keys on the hook above the shoe shelf and lines up his shoes in the cubby, then he turns to face me with a guilty look on his face.
I narrow my eyes at him. “It was you.”
He holds up his hands. “I’m sorry. I checked my phone in the driveway and saw your text just now.”
He doesn’t even try to ask what he did. He knows—guilty, guilty roommate.
I do my best to scowl at him. “Willa called me today on the way to work, mad that I hadn’t told her about living with you.”
Miles shrugs as if it’s not a big deal. “Well, the good news is, you don’t have to hide anymore.”
“Um, no, not good. She didn’t find out from me.”
Miles brushes past me in the kitchen and moves to stand in front of the fridge. He pulls out a bag of grapes and starts eating them before washing them. Apparently, he likes to live on the dangerous side.
“Why didn’t you just tell her? She’s grumpy about it, but you’re an adult. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of it.”
“It’s a huge deal!” I exclaim. Although I’m not sure if I’m trying to defend myself or Willa at this point. And I’m not even sure why I’m mad at Miles.
