Chapter Thirty-One
Told Ya So
Sydney
Lauren arrives on a Friday afternoon with two suitcases, a bottle of champagne, and an expression I’ve seen only once before—the night I told her I was flying to New York.
“Don’t,” I say as I open the front door.
Her mouth twitches. “I haven’t said anything.”
“You’re about to.”
She drops her bags in the hallway and begins to take in her surroundings—the kitchen, the living room, my shoes by the door next to Archer’s, and the twins’ backpacks hanging on their hooks.
“Your shoes are next to his,” she observes.
“I live here, Lauren.”
“I know you live here. I’m just, uh—” Her eyes brighten, and she presses her lips together. “I’m having a moment. Give me a second.”
“Oh my gosh.”
“I told you. On your last night in Minnesota, sitting on my couch, eating Thai food, I said you were in love with him, and you said, and I quote, ‘I am not in love with Archer Lockwood.’ I looked at you and said, ‘okay, Syd.’ Because we both knew.” Shegestures at the house, at the shoes, at my entire life. “And here we are.”
“Are you done?”
“I’m never going to be done. I’m going to bring this up at every holiday, every birthday, and at your wedding.” She grins, satisfied.
“Nobody said anything about a wedding.”
“Yet.” She smirks. “Nobody said anything about a weddingyet.”
Lily comes barreling around the corner at full speed, barefoot and hair flying, and launches herself at Lauren’s legs.
“LAUREN!”
Lauren catches her, lifting her up as Lily wraps her arms around her neck and immediately starts talking about Jeffrey the giraffe’s latest adventure, which apparently involved a bathtub and a near-death experience.
Luke appears in the hallway, holding a book about cephalopods. He approaches Lauren at his own pace, assesses her for a moment, and then takes her free hand.
“Hi, Luke,” Lauren says.
“Hi. Did you know that cuttlefish can change color faster than any other animal on earth?”
“I did not know that.”
“Now you do.”
Lauren meets my eyes over Lily’s head and mouthsI love them. I nod because I know, I know she does, and I love that she loves them. This is my life now—my best friend from Minnesota standing in my hallway in New York, holding my boyfriend’s daughter while his son shares marine biology facts.
My boyfriend. I still stumble over that word sometimes. Not because it doesn’t fit—it fits so well that my brain hasn’t caught up with it. But just because it’s still so new.
Bree picks up the twins on Sunday afternoon. She pulls into the driveway, and I walk them out, Lily’s bag slung over one shoulder and Luke’s over the other. Lily runs to the car, while Luke follows at his own pace.
Bree meets me at the trunk, and I hand her the bags.
“He left his shark blanket last time,” I say. “So I bought two. You can keep this one at your place.”
