God, I wish we were still kids so I could give her a noogie or wet willy or something.
“First, ouch! Nicole cheated on me, so that’s still raw.” I pretend I’m hurt and offended. “And second, Gemma’s great. You’ll love her. She’s great, really great, and she’s good company.”
Lucy opens her mouth slightly and her eyebrows pull together, the expression telling me to brace myself for what she’s about to say.
“It’s just”—she pauses—“good to hear that she’sgreat.”
Wow! “That’s not what you were going to say,” I accuse.
“Sure it is.” She shrugs, obviously forgetting for a moment that I’m her brother, and I know her. “Do you love her?” she asks, catching me off guard.
“Ah, not yet,” I answer, then hesitate, “but it’s still fairly new.”
“Are you falling in love?”
“Jesus. What’s with the Spanish Inquisition?”
Gripping the back of my neck, I’m genuinely perplexed as to where she’s taking this conversation. My sister is nosy—always has been—but she’s not usually this direct. Her style is to drop subtle leading questions until I eventually spill everything. What’s going on with her today?
“I’m just worried that you’re going for the wrong people.”
“Pot meet Kettle.” I can’t help but add my own jab. She kicks my shin under the table, and damn, it hurts. I bite my knuckle to distract from the pain and shoot a glare her way.
“Shut up,” Lucy snaps. “This isn’t about me. Just promise me that if you don’t see a future with someone, you’ll break free. Don’t stay in a relationship if you’re notone hundredpercent sure, because you’ll risk missing something amazing that passes you by.”
My face scrunches in confusion. Is she talking about me? Or is it actually about her, only she doesn’t realize it?
Maybe she needs someone to give her the same advice. That someone being anyone but me. There is no way she’s taking dating advice from her little brother. Lucy looks at me questioningly. She actually wants an answer. This entire conversation has been very un-Lucy-like.
“I promise,” I say, though I’m not sure it’s true.
Gemma calls on my drive home. “Is Summer okay?” she asks before I’ve even said hello.Ah, what?The question is so out of the blue that I tap the brake, causing my body to jolt in response and the car behind me to screech to a halt, horn blaring.Okay, maybe it was more than a tap.
A little flustered, I wave out the window before I respond. “What do you mean?” I say into the phone, hesitantly. Until now, I’ve been doing really well at keeping my mind off Summer. I’m not going to say I’ve been able to stop thinking about her completely because that would be a lie. But I have at least reduced my,always platonicthoughts to a respectable number and never around my girlfriend.Until now.
“Well, I just saw Joel kissing someone on your doorstep when I stopped by. Someone who was not Summer. And calling it kissing is putting it lightly. What happened?”
Goddammit. I should have seen this coming. I should have prepared for this. Joel’s been a bit of a… How do I put this without offending anyone? I can’t; he’s been a man whore. It’s a fairly new thing for him, ever since Delilah.
In hindsight, I really should have been honest with Gemma about Summer from the start.Or even now?Yeah, great advice.Instead, I blurt. “She cheated on him.” What? The already large hole of my lies is fast becoming a crater. “I’m kidding. Summer wouldn’t do that.” I quickly backtrack.Again, what?“They realized they wanted different things.”That’s better.
“Who broke up with who?” Gemma questions, sounding suspicious.
“It was mutual.”
“It’s never mutual,” she supplies with attitude, and I hate that we are having this conversation, but I’m in too deep. Why stop now?
“Well, they said it was, so maybe they didn’t want me to pick sides. That’s all the information I know,” I counter, praying we can move on. Nope.
“Okay…” Gemma says slowly. “So, back to my original question. How’s Summer? And Joel, I guess. Although, he looks fine,” she adds a little bitterly.
“We all grieve differently,” I defend, not wanting her to judge my best friend for something he didn’t actually do. “They’re both as good as they can be, considering.”
It’s a few minutes and several questions later before the conversation is finally over, and I’m exhausted from the lies. I haven’t even seen Summer since that night. Surely this has to be the end of the mess.
Arriving home, I’m just about to end the call when I remember something. “Did you get that weekend off work?” I ask, crossing my fingers and clenching my teeth in anticipation.
“I did, and I’m really looking forward to spending extra time together. Although I’d prefer if the accommodation was a higher star.” She laughs, but it’s obvious she’s not joking. She’s definitely a bit off from our earlier conversation.