She goes back to the invoices, Dad goes back to pointing at things. And I sit on my couch in my own house feeling like a guest in a life that's rearranging itself around me without my permission.
Later, she's in the kitchen. I'm supposed to clean up after dinner, but mostly I'm standing here holding a dish towel like I've forgotten what it's for. She bumps me with her hip as she passes, casual and easy, and I go completely still.
"I've got it." She's already at the sink before I can respond.
"You're a guest. And it's my kitchen."
"And I said, I've got it."
She turns on the tap and starts rinsing plates, loading the dishwasher like she grew up in this kitchen. I stand behind her, watching the back of her neck. A piece of hair has fallen from the clip situation, one dark wave resting against her skin.
I think about moving it aside. Tucking that single curl behind her ear, letting my fingers trail down the curve of her neck, finding out if her skin is as warm as it looks. My hand starts to lift before I catch myself. I shove it in my pocket.
Get it fucking together, Holt.
I escape to the living room and sit with Dad. He'swatching me like he can see every thought I'm having and is just waiting for me to catch up.
"What now?"
"Nothing." He says it so innocently he should've gone into acting.
"You're so full of shit, old man."
He scratches his jaw and looks at the ceiling, picture of innocence.
"I just think it's nice," he says. "Having someone here. Someone like Lily girl."
"She's here for you."
"Mm-hmm."
"She is." I'm muttering now, getting more annoyed by the second.
"I said mm-hmm, Cal. That's agreement."
It's the most loaded syllable in the English language, and we both know it. From the kitchen, I can hear Lily humming along to something on her phone. Dad is sitting there watching me with a pleased grin, and I want to throw something at his head.
"Knock it off. You're creeping me out."
He chuckles, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I'm not doing anything."
"You're sitting there thinking things." I'm whisper-yelling now, which is not my finest moment.
"A man can't think?"
"Not when he thinks the way you think."
"And how do I think?"
"Loudly. Delusionally."
He laughs at that, completely unbothered, already on the victory lap.
"She's good for this house, Cal. That's all I'm saying."
"You're saying more than that."
"I'm saying exactly that." He leans back, still grinning. "Anything else you're hearing is coming from you."
