“I think we need more than chips and wine in the house,” I say. I put a hand to my stomach to drive home my point. “We can’t eat pizza for breakfast all week.”
“That used to be your breakfast of choice in college,” Laurel says.
“Yeah, well,” I say. “We grow.”
“We become professional chefs,” Davi says.
“Hey, I’m a ramen girl most nights,” I point out. While I love cooking for people, testing recipes to share online, and spending time in the kitchen making dinner for my friends, I usually find that cooking for just myself yields much less joy. If I could have my own private chef after having to chef professionally all day, I’d be so happy.
“Well, I’m in,” Laurel says, tossing her book to the side and sitting up, stretching her arms over her head. “Let’s round everyone up.”
“Oh, actually—” I say, trying to come up with some excuse. I’d been hoping this would be a chance to escape the pall hanging over the house, get away from Everett for a couple hours. But one look at Laurel’s face—patient, none the wiser—stops me. This week is about being here for her, after all. And who am I to deny anyone a grocery run? “Never mind.”
Laurel runs upstairs to change while Davi clicks away at his keyboard. I slump onto the stool next to him, squint at the screen.
“You’re working?” I ask. When he ignores me, I continue, “You know what Laurel said about work this week.”
Davi tilts his screen down, not fully closing his laptop. “Didn’t Laurel just tell you to go find Gabe and... who is it?” He puts an index finger and thumb to his chin. “Your ex-lover?”
“Ha, ha,” I deadpan. I tug a bowl of cherries—the only fiber currently in the house and case in point that we need to go grocery shopping, so we don’t totally regress to our twenty-two-year-old habits while we’re here—and grab out a handful. “You want to do the job for me?”
“No,” Davi says. “But I’ll watch.”
I shove my shoulder against his. “Come on. You can’t egg us on. Everett and I are supposed to begetting alongthis week.”
“I’m not the one who needs to be reminded of that.” Davi grabs a cherry out of my palm and pops it in his mouth, tugs the stem off. “You going to be on your best behavior at the store?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Pity,” Davi says around the cherry. “Watching you two bicker is so entertaining.”
I’m about to respond when the front door opens and Everett walks in. He’s clearly just back from surfing, wearing only a pair of swim trunks with a towel slung over one tanned shoulder, his hair damp. He tosses his keys onto the table in the entryway before he catches sight of us and nods, tugging the towel off of his shoulder to scrub at his hair as he walks over.
He looks up at me as he approaches, and I’m struck, yet again, by the exact shade of his eyes. I remember all the ways I used to think about them: icy in a first-snow way, a cold blue sky alight with a fire’s glow. Weather hanging over a hot day, relief when the rain finally breaks. But all of that is gone. Now, the blue-gray of his eyes is more akin to slush in the gutter, getting sprayed on you on your way to the bus stop when a car speeds by.
“Morning,” he says to us, shaking me out of my irritated daydreaming.
“Good waves?” Davi asks.
“Not bad,” Everett says, grabbing a few cherries from the bowl. “Gabe wanted to go.”
“Did you forget him?” I ask, looking exaggeratedly at the empty foyer behind him.
Everett looks a half second away from an eye roll, but he abstains. “He’s FaceTiming Mia and the kids on the front porch.”
“Ah,” I say, eyeing Everett’s bare torso. “Had to wait until you were out of frame, huh?”
He narrows his eyes at me, juggling the handful of cherries between his fingers like he’s weighing his comeback options. “Why would that be, Sutton?”
“I’m just saying, you couldn’t be bothered to put on a shirt between the beach and here?”
“Yes, Sutton. My chest is why Gabe decided to take the call outside.”
I hold up my hands. “Listen, I think it’s a little weird too.”
Everett turns his flat stare to Davi, who’s smiling tight-lipped at his computer screen. “What’s everyone up to?”
“Oh.” At this, Davi slams his laptop closed, looking far too pleased. “We’re all going into town. Sutton’s idea.”
