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“Great,” he said, huffy, as he picked up a dish towel and then threw it down again. “There go my plans for breakfast oysters. Thanks a lot.”
I laughed. “Sorry to mess up your plans.”
He pulled a spatula from a white ceramic crock of them sitting on the counter and pointed at me with it. “Don’t let it happen again.”
“I won’t,” I assured him. “Can I help?”
“Hm?” Wylie asked, turning around. “You say something?”
“Oh—nothing,” I said, suddenly embarrassed. “Never mind.”
“This ear’s not so great,” he said, pointing to his left one with a fork, and I remembered he’d done something like that when I’d first come into the house—back when I’d been trying to leave it immediately. “Blame three decades in front of terrible drummers. Just give me a second.”
“Sure.” As though they knew food was incoming, both dogs wandered into the kitchen, looking hopeful. I picked up Andy and gave him a scratch under the chin. Tidbit let out a huffy sigh, so I reached over with my free hand and gave his velvety ears a scritch too. Then I took out my phone and scrolled through my texts.
Didi
Happy Monday! It’s justifiable homicide when your roommate is totally unreasonable, right? No jury would convict me. I’m feeling good about my chances.
Katy
NO. Also don’t put this stuff in writing, because what if your roommate gets in an ACTUAL accident and then you have these incriminating texts? Haven’t you ever heard a podcast?
Also Darce, we need to hear all about the festival!
Didi
We really do. Was Romy as bad as we’d predicted?
Katy
Was she even WORSE?
Didi
Oh god, was she?
I was about to reply, my hands hesitating over the keys. But then a second later, I locked my phone and set it down. There was no way I could go into everything—not here, not right now, while Wylie Sanders made me eggs a few feet away, humming what I was pretty sure was the bass line from “Saturday Night Falls” under his breath. This was a much longer conversation, and definitely not a text conversation—I’d have to get a FaceTime date on the books with them.
“Here we go,” Wylie said, coming over to the table with a skillet. I set Andy down, and he and Tidbit immediately crowded around Wylie, looking up at him expectantly.
He spooned what looked like a scramble onto my plate—eggs and tomatoes and onions and… mushrooms, maybe? It smelled delicious. He served himself some as well, then returned the skillet to the stove and came back a moment later bearing butter, jam, and a plate stacked with toast.
“This looks amazing,” I said, placing my napkin on my lap. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s no trouble. Happy that you could stay over, Darcy.” He paused, and it was like I could practically see my name lingering between us for a second. “It really is something that you’re named after that song. It’s one of my favorites, you know.”
I nodded, even though I wasn’t sure if he meant the name or the song. “I’m sure lots of people were named Darcy because of it, right? Like how after it came out, all these girls were named Jolene.”
“You’re too young for that reference.”
“My dad told me about it. He’s the one who picked Darcy.”
“He’s a fan?”
“The biggest,” I said as I grabbed a piece of toast. For just a moment, I wished he could have been there. I knew it wasn’t possible, but I would have loved it if he could have somehow just appeared at this kitchen table, getting to have eggs and toast with his idol too.
“What’s his name?”
