Stop. Trevor and I JUST broke up. Plus, Liam's my boss. And I love Ruthie. I can't risk this.
Jo
You stop. I'm still not convinced you and Trevor were ever really dating. We didn't even meet him. Clearly that was going nowhere. And Liam may be your boss, but scouring the internet is sort of my thing, and damn… Mr. Montgomery could get it.
Shut up. Besides, it won't matter if I have to quit to come take care of your ass. Why have your numbers been so low lately?
Jo
Don’t change the subject… and if you’re going to, tell me where you’re actually going to live now that you ditched your tool-bag roommate.
I don't know, but I'll figure it out. I'm halfway there… Brooke took Alex over to pack up my stuff and take it to Drew's with the rest of it. It's a giant city… how hard can it be to find an apartment?
Jo
Well, of course, you could stay with me. But not because you're worried about me. I'm fine. But I guess you can't give up that fine ass—I mean job. Unless you want to commute?
I'll keep you posted... Make sure you're carrying your glucose drops!
Jo
Love you too, Tessie-Lou.
Jo's unhinged—always has been. The girl has a podcast calledShots Firedwhere she uses every excuse in the book to air out strangers' business. It's popular—and she absolutely uses it for evil.
But I love her.
She says the things that no one else wants to say—or hear—and it can be refreshing. Sometimes. It can also be unnerving. Jo treats honesty like oxygen—necessary, pure, therapeutic even. But I often wonder if what she's saying is completely truthful, or if it's just bits and pieces of facts spoken with total disregard for any repercussions.
Liam is attractive, there's no denying that. He's well-built, talented, a great dad, and he wears a baseball hat like it was handmade for him by God himself. But he's my boss, and I love this job and Ruthie too much to risk that. There's a reason they fell into my lap as soon as the Randolphs told me they were moving—and right before I ended things with Trevor. I truly believe that this is where I'm supposed to be. So, to ruin that over, what?—a sweet guy and baseball thighs?—feels irresponsible at best.
There was one thing Jo was right about though. I need to figure out where I'm going to live. I could stay with her and commute back to Golden City each day—I'm with the Montgomerys enough that it could be worth the drive. But my life is here. My friends are here. And I don't know if I could live with one of my siblings, even if it wasthe sister that I'm closest to. She could probably use reminders to watch her sugar and not so eagerly drag strangers on the internet without their consent, but living with her could be more work than help. I'd drop everything for any of my brothers or sisters, and sometimes I think they count on that.
Ruthie stirs beside me, and it tears my attention away from my screen. She rolls over to her side, and I smile at the soft clicking sounds she makes with her tongue in her sleep. It's moments like this—and when she slurped up the last drop of ice cream soup from her souvenir hat—where I almost forget she's nearly a tween.
Just as she settles again, a low whir rises from the door, cutting through the silence. I spring to my feet, either to catch the interruption before it wakes her or because I feel caught. Like in middle school when my mom would come into my bedroom while I was just thinking about a boy from school, and I was positive she would be able to tell without any proof at all.
I take three long strides from the rocking recliner I was in to the heavy hotel door and catch it as it opens. I peer through the crack, Liam's face on the other side, his expression frozen like the rest of him.
"She's asleep," I explain, my voice barely a whisper.
He drags his bottom lip between his teeth—not that I notice—then nods toward the hall. I hesitate just a second before slipping out, closing the door behind me as quietly as I can. When it clicks shut, I spin to find a new version of Liam I've never seen before—hair wet and hanging over his forehead, cheeks flushed from the humid air of the pool, body tired.
I force a smile, gulping down my reaction, and he points to the door next to him.
"Can we?" he asks, tousling his locks with his fingertips.
I ignore my immediate thoughts about him coming into my hotel room, and instantly create a mental map of the space.Did I leave a bra out? Is there a thong draped over the bed?
When I realize I packed my things away before housekeeping came earlier, my shoulders relax, and I nod, reaching for my key in the back pocket of my jeans.
I slip the card into the door, and wait for the same humming sound that stirred me just a minute ago. When I hear it, I slowly press down on the handle and push the door open.
"Sorry," Liam says, walking into the room behind me. "I didn't think she'd be asleep that fast."
I shake my head, tossing my key and my phone onto the dresser. "Don't be. I didn't do anything. She was laying there recapping what felt like every detail of the afternoon, and next thing I know… "
He laughs and plops onto the edge of my bed. "Sounds about right. You guys must have had yourselves a day."
