“Life on the edge,” Lottie teases. “My big sis, so reckless and wild.”
Mom and dad left the house for us while they’re in Savannah, but there’s only so much chaos I can take. I worked out a deal to housesit and manage some of the summer houses while the owners are out of town. It means moving around every few months, but it’s worth it to have my own space to come home to, a small corner of the world that’s just mine. But even though Lottie was practically pushing me out the door too, a part of me still feels like I should be here, helping out more.
Lottie yawns. “Want to stay for pizza and leftover casserole?”
“Tempting, but I’ll pass. I’m going out,” I say slowly. “I think I have a date.”
“Think?” Lottie sits up. “With who? How? Where?”
“It’s no big deal,” I shake my head. “I’m meeting the new vet at Dixie’s later.”
Lottie’s blue eyes widen. “The hot one! Sawyer, whatshisname.”
“How do you know?”
“Please. Word travels fast here, especially when it comes to sexy single guys. The moms in my baby art class all had their panties in a twist.” Lottie waggles her eyebrows, and I laugh.
“It’s nothing. Like I said, it’s just a friendly thing.” Lottie whacks me with a cushion. “Hey!”
“You’re not doing this again,” she says, pointing at me. “Pretending like it’s nothing romantic so hard that even the guy gets the hint and leaves you alone.”
“Since when?” I protest.
“Since always.” She rolls her eyes. “You did it with that accountant guy last year, and that hot waiter we met at Target—”
“He was staring at your maternity cleavage,” I point out, but Lottie doesn’t quit.
“I’m serious, you’re like an old maid already!” she argues. “I don’t get it. You’re young, and hot, and your boobs aren’t leaking milk every two hours. At least one of us needs to get laid sometime soon, and right now, I’m too tired to even try.”
I give her a sympathetic smile. I know it can’t be easy. She’s only nineteen, and while all her friends are off at college, partying without a care in the world, she’s here raising a kid on her own. “You’ll get there, soon enough. When Kit’s a little older, and—”
“We’re not talking about me!” Lottie interrupts. “You’re the one who needs to be out having fun. Lots of fun,” she adds. “With protection.”
I laugh, but the joke is bittersweet. Lottie was only seventeen when she sat us down and announced she was pregnant. She doesn’t talk about the father, never even told us his name. All she gave was a fierce glare and the information that he was out of the picture. That was the last she’d say about it. I was two years into drama school in New York, and in a whole mess of trouble myself, so it made sense for me to come home. I was able to help her out with the baby, far away from the big city lights, and from all the mistakes I’d been making. It was a wake-up call, a way to find meaning again after searching so desperately – recklessly – in all the wrong places.
Sometimes, I think she saved my life.
“So what are you wearing for this hot date?” Lottie demands. “Not that sweater, I hope.”
I look down at the garment in my hand. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s fine for a tea party with the historical society,” she snorts. “Would it kill you to show a little cleavage? There’s a magic little something called Wonderbra.” Lottie leaps up. “You can borrow mine!”
“No, thank you!” I quickly get to my feet as well. “I’m playing it casual, OK? This is just a drinks date at Dixie’s. A drink that might not even be a real date. Trust me, when I want to look sexy, you’ll be the first to know.”
“At least let me do something with your hair,” she pleads. “Some cute bangs… I have my stuff right here!”
Lottie cuts hair at the local salon, and is actually a genius when it comes to transforming people with just the right style. Still, I’m not about to risk her going wild with the scissors. The last time I let her loose on my hair, she took off five inches because she ‘wanted to see how it looks.’ Luckily, Kit slowly rocks over and lets out a wail of surprise as he tumbles to the carpet. Lottie goes to scoop him up, distracted. “You’re not getting off so easy,” she says, cooing. “I want details. Lots of details.”
“Will do.” I kiss Kit goodbye, then let myself out. My sister’s voice echoes after me, down the garden path.
“And wear those tight jeans, so he can see your butt!”