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I didn’t really see a whole lot of him until after I’d finished high school, when he met Sebastian, and seeing them become fast friends always left me a little jealous. Sure, I had Morgan, but I’d always worshipped the ground my brother walked on, and it hurt that we were as good as acquaintances for most of my childhood.
I missed a lot while I was gone. Aiden had his heart broken by the woman I thought he’d marry one day. Morgan had been promoted twice. And now that I’m home, I can’t help but wonder how much I’ve actually done since I left. How the hell is it possible to feel like I’m going backward and forward at the same time?
By the time I clean up my lunch, it’s after one, and I’m exhausted despite doing nothing all morning.
I find the manuscript at the bottom of the box in a big yellow binder markedmanuscript, leaving no way for me to pretend that I need to keep looking, despite not being ready to face this yet.
I’m out of my mind with relief when Morgan calls.
“You must have heard my anguish from there.”
Back in Chance, whenever I hit a book block, I’d walk to this great little café, stick my headphones in, and observe life for a while. Now that I’m home, I’m caught between old habits and new, and I need to find a way to reconcile that.
Morgan groans. “And I thought I had it bad, having to deal with Stevens all afternoon. Can you believe he had the nerve to sit in on my meeting with the head office? He didn’t say a thing for an hour, then took credit when theythanked us.Us. As if he had anything to do with it. Seriously. The actual fuck?”
Listening to Morgan’s hellish day is a balm. For five years, this is all we had. Phone calls and venting. I could always count on her to distract me with hours of entertainment while she let out her frustrations from work.
“So,” she starts, “settled into your hovel yet?”
“Pretty much,” I answer, ignoring the chaos around me.
“What’s Magic Mike like to live with, anyway? Is he still doing his whole broodydon’t talk to mething?”
“He’s not like that at all,” I argue.
“Maybe not with you,” she says.
I rise to defend him. “Sebastian is sweet. He cooks, and he’s tidy, and I can’t even hear the TV when he’s watching his nature shows.”
“So he’s boring.”
“What? No.”
“Whatever. Not why I called. Whatcha doing? Want to come over and help me polish off this bottle of Irish whiskey? We can make boozy ice cream and catch up on soaps.”
“I should be working.” I eye the stack of paper that holds my future… or my downfall. “But I have been very successful in avoiding it.”
“How much did you clean?”
It’s moments like this that remind me why Morgan is my best friend.
“Everything, minus Sebastian’s bedroom. I smell like a janitor’s closet.”
“Gross. Well, you could come over and keep avoidingresponsibility here. I’ve had enough adulting for the day. Plus, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re a lot closer now, so you can listen to me bitch in person.”
She’s right, and it adds to the growing list of concern worms that squirm around my gut. “You haven’t seen the house yet. Why not come here instead? Bring your pajamas, and I’ll make tea.”
Since I moved in a few weeks ago, Morgan has avoided coming here, and I can’t work out why.
“I would, but I’ve already had a drink, so I can’t drive.”
“How about lunch tomorrow?” I offer. “I can meet you in the city.”
“Don’t worry about it. Maybe we can go back to the club this weekend if you aren’t too busy with your book stuff.”
“Maybe.” The thought of another hangover is not exciting to me. “Speaking of the book, I should probably get started. Rip the Band-Aid off and find out just how bad it is.”
I hear the hiss of a can opening. “Okay, well, sucks to be you. If you get bored later, call me.”
