ON SUNDAY MORNING, I wake up to the sounds of metal clanging and groggily get out of bed to find the source of commotion.
“What are you doing?” I ask over a yawn.
“Shit! You scared me. I still haven’t gotten used to having you around,” Vic says as he bends to pick up a pan off of the floor.
“At least you’re wearing clothes,” I say, glancing at his white and blue basketball shorts. “What are you doing?” I repeat.
He sighs. “Okay, this is awkward.” He lowers his voice to a whisper. “There’s someone in my room, and I’m trying to make breakfast.”
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing at the thought of Vic making any kind of food worth eating, and peek my head around the wall, looking toward his room.
“And I’m not sure if she’ll be dressed,” he adds.
My eyes widen. “Maybe you should tell her I’m here.”
“Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll have to . . . you’re kind of cock blocking what I had planned,” he says, looking around the kitchen.
I cover my ears. “Don’t speak. I’m going to shower and go have breakfast with Mia.”
Vic’s eyes light up in laughter. “You don’t have to.”
“Shh! Don’t speak.”
I go upstairs and pick out my clothes before going into the bathroom and getting ready as fast as humanly possible. It hadn’t really occurred to me what sharing a place with my brother would be like. I switch on my phone as I slip out of the house, thinking about the desperate email I’m going to write my real estate agent, and I see two new text messages from an unknown number.
This is my number-Oliver
I program it into my phone before I read the next one.
Jen wants to know if Tuesday is a good day for you to swing by the hospital. She was able to get you an empty room that you can use for art.
After looking at my calendar for the week, I’m able to move some things around—not that I have much going on these days.
I respond.
Tuesday is great. Tell her to give you a time and where I should go when I get there.
I don’t expect a response from him because it’s only nine o’clock, and most childless humans our age are asleep at this time, but my phone buzzes as I’m pulling into the coffee shop I frequent.
I’ll ask her. Will I see you later?
I try to remember if I’m missing something, but can’t think of anything.
See me?
At Vic’s.
Didn’t know you were coming over.
Football Sunday.
I frown over this, realizing how long it’s been since I joined them on football Sunday.
Vic keeps forgetting I’m living with him temporarily.
Uh-oh . . .
Let’s just say I got dressed and out of the house a lot earlier than I hoped to on a Sunday.
LOL. Sorry. Where are you now?
About to have breakfast.
Want to come over? You can sleep here.
I freeze and stare at the screen, expecting the words to switch up on me and say something else.
Not with me, by the way.
I start typing out a message, but delete it when his next one comes through.
Okay, this is awkward. If you don’t respond, I’m going to call you.
The phone vibrates in my hand a moment later, and I pick up, clearing my throat.
“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that,” he says. His voice. God I love his voice. It’s deep and rich, and always sounds like he just woke up.
“It’s fine. I’m fine, though. Thank you.”
“I don’t think we’ve ever spoken on the phone,” he says.
“No, I don’t think we have,” I respond, not adding the gazillion other things that seep into my thoughts—because you’re an asshole, because you left, because I’m your best friend’s little sister, because you couldn’t have a relationship if your life depended on it . . .
“Well, now we have. Okay, I just wanted to make sure you didn’t take that the wrong way. I mean, unless you want to, and that would be totally fine by me too.” I groan at the smile in his voice.
“Oliver . . .”
His chuckle jumps through the speaker and ricochets through my body. I hate what he does to me. “I’m just playing, Elle. Anyway, are you making bean dip tonight?”
“Do you want me to make bean dip tonight?”
“Is the Pope Catholic?”
“If you ask nicely, I’ll make you some bean dip, Oliver. If you’re going to be a sarcastic asshole, I’m hanging up on you.”
He exhales. “Estelle Reuben, my favorite person in the entire world, would you please make me some bean dip? With extra guacamole.”
I smile at his words, even though I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. He’s dangerous, I remind myself. This is what he does to you. Every. Single. Time.
“Okay.”
I hear a door slam wherever he is, followed by rustling and then more rustling, finishing up with a heavy sigh. “There’s an empty spot on my bed for sleeping, in case you’re tired.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ll see you later.”