“I don’t know what you’re making, but I’m already excited about it.”
Lucy slides the pan into the oven and turns to face me. “If we get married like Ainsley wants us to…it would actually sort of make sense. We’re already living together. We’re sharing meals and grocery store runs. It’s not like anything would change.”
“Not unless you wanted it to.” I have the urge to laugh, but then I worry it would scare Lucy.
I could marry her. I could win the bet. And even though we would be married, I wouldn’t have to worry about other relationships.
Strange as it may seem, I’m more worried about losing my roommate than about finding a girlfriend.
Lucy smiles at me. “But, of course, we’re only talking hypothetically.”
“Of course…”
SIXTEEN
Lucy
Walking into the coffee shop, I look around for Willa. She waves at me from a table next to a big bay window that overlooks the lake.
I stop at the counter and study the menu.
The high school–aged girl working the counter greets me with a smile. “I just figured out that you’re Willa’s baby sister.”
I smile and don’t bother correcting her. People have made that mistake for a long time.
Willa’s about five inches taller than me, and she comes across as the more put-together one of the two of us.
Heck, she is the more disciplined of the two of us. And I think, sometimes, she thinks she has to keep me organized so I don’t mess up my life.
“Yes, we’re sisters.”
“That’s great! Willa’s my favorite customer. Do you like extra caramel like she does?”
I smile at the brightness in the barista’s voice and order a caramel mocha—with extra caramel. She makes it in record time, and I make sure to add a good tip to the jar.
I sit down across from Willa, my coffee cup clutched in both hands. “Hey, it’s the sister that I moved to town to be close to.”
Willa smiles sheepishly at me. “I’m honestly so embarrassed that we haven’t hung out yet. You’ve been here for over six weeks now. I feel like every time we see each other, it’s when we’re working in the cat café or in passing.”
“Oh, that’s right. You did catch me in the soda aisle at the grocery store. Which reminds me, what were you doing in that aisle?”
Willa smiles. “Maybe I was buying myself a Mountain Dew because I missed you.”
I laugh at that. “Honestly, it would make my day if you became a Mountain Dew drinker.”
Willa makes a gagging face. “No, absolutely not. But I’ve found out I have a thing for cherry Pepsi.”
“All right. I’ll accept that as a close second,” I tease her.
It makes me happy to see her joking about food and drinking a caramel mocha with lots of extra caramel.
Willa has struggled with an eating disorder for years. Brought on in a large part by our mom, who critiqued our bodies when we were growing up. Willa ended up with the brunt of the nagging and demands for perfectionism simply because of her height. Hearing that she’s enjoying a soda makes me overjoyed.
“I’m glad it finally worked out to visit.”
Willa nods. “I told them I was gonna be late for work today.”
“Is everything going well at work?”
