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“She thinks I’m a bum.”
Laura laughed. “Well, she’s right about that in some ways.”
I shook my head. “She thinks I have no money.”
Lola started to get agitated. “You’re rootless. You never keep the same job and do what you please. Hell, you call in to places and pretend to be a no-show for work! How in the hell does that translate into money?”
Laura grew excited by having something to contribute to the conversation. “I know the answer to this one!”
I waved her on. “Go ahead.”
“I’ve just heard the speech to my dad so many times.”
“Laura,” I warned.
“Right, right.” She held up her hands and continued. “See, you’re focusing on the wrong details. He may not keep the same job, but he’s pretty much always got a job. He doesn’t work regular hours, but he sometimes works long ones. And—”
I took over. “And as much as I haven’t settled on anything else, I did settle on a bank. I live my life low-maintenance—”
“Aside from cigarettes,” Laura muttered under her breath, and I conceded with an incline of my head. “And I actually enjoy managing money. Not enough to do it every day of my life, but I like it.”
“Wow. I like him even more.”
“We get it, Annie,” Lola snapped. “You love Reed. You. Love. Reed.”
Annie shrugged shamelessly. “I do.”
I leaned in and put my arm around Lola’s shoulder and my lips to my ear. “I promise it won’t be bad. I’ll help you maintain everything you like.” I leaned back to look in her eyes. “Would I ruin your freedom to do what you want?”
She sighed. “No.”
“Exactly.”
Laura and Annie were smiling when I sat back in my chair.
“Don’t worry, Lola,” Laura consoled. “Annie may love Reed, but I’m pretty sure I love you.”
Lola blushed, and I smiled at my sister.
Three honest, open, funny women. I was pretty sure I loved all three.
The screen of my phone lit up with a text notification, and I picked it up off the coffee table to find a message from my sister.
Annie: Can you watch Emma and Lucy Friday afternoon so I can take Henry to the dentist?
Two weeks after our coffee date with our sisters, and I was starting to wonder if Annie had actually fallen in love with Reed. Like fucking clockwork, I’d get daily texts or phone calls that often started out as normal chitchat about her kids, our crazy parents, or my column, but eventually, my sister would find some way to steer the conversation to Reed. I had a feeling today wasn’t any different.
In the spirit of giving her the benefit of the doubt, I tapped out a reply and silently prayed this conversation wouldn’t lead toward her asking me something ridiculous like Reed’s shoe size.
Me: That shouldn’t be a problem. What time?
Hmmm…speaking of Reed’s shoe size…
While I waited for Annie’s response, my gaze moved toward Reed’s bare feet that were resting comfortably on the top of my coffee table. Surprisingly, for a guy, he had really nice feet. They were just the right size—not big like clown’s feet or freakishly small—and the skin was smooth and void of cracked heels or eyesores like bunion s or warts. His toes were long, and the nails were trimmed and well-manicured.
Call me a weirdo, but the man had some nice fucking feet.
“You got a thing for my feet, LoLo?” he asked while wiggling his toes, and I wondered how long I’d been sitting here, examining his feet like there was going to be a pop quiz on his anatomy.
“Not particularly,” I answered, and he waggled his brows in my direction.
His smirk turned cocky, and I tapped his ribs with my foot.
“Oh, get over yourself,” I huffed. He just laughed it off.
I mean, if I’d ever develop a fetish for men’s feet, I’d venture to guess that his would be at the top of my list, but feet weren’t really my thing.
Reed is your thing, my mind whispered.
Yeah. I guess he kind of was my thing. He was the one person I’d been spending all of my time with, and even though he had a penchant for making me crazy, I didn’t want it to stop.
I loved spending time with him.
I pretty much loved everything about him.
That’s because you actually love him.
Jesus. Did my brain ever turn off?
I was trying to have a lazy Saturday afternoon at my apartment with my boyfriend, and the crazy bitch wouldn’t shut up about loving him and shit. For the love of unicorns, I chanted to my brain in response, let both of us work on our columns while music and reruns of The Office play in the background in peace.
I already had enough interruptions in the form of playing merry-go-round via text conversation with Annie. I glanced at the screen of my phone and saw her reply.
Annie: His appointment is at 1 p.m. So, I’d probably drop them off around noon and pick them up around 2.
Me: Yeah. I can do that. Just remind me Thursday.
Annie: Fantastic. Thank you from me and Dr. Kindrick. Last time I brought all three to his office, they broke a fucking chair and managed to squirt fluoride onto the ceiling tiles.
Me: LOL. Let me guess…Lucy’s appointment. Henry and Emma were the havoc-wreakers?
Annie: Bingo. Those little assholes are crafty.
Sure, it could come across as cold and the opposite of motherly when my sister called her children assholes, but I knew she meant it in the most affectionate way.
They were her little assholes.
Annie: Which dentist does Reed go to?
See what I mean?
And it was like she wasn’t even trying at this point.
Her conversational segues toward Reed weren’t even creative anymore. I mean, she was now inquiring about his dental health. What was next? Accountants and car mechanics?
Me: 415-555-1345
Annie: Is that his dentist?
Me: No, Ms. Nosypants. That’s his number. So now, every time you have the urge to ask me about Reed, just text him instead.
Annie: You’re going to regret that…
Me: At this point, if it stops your Reed questions, I’m willing to take the gamble.
Annie: :D
Me: Anyway, it’s probably fair. I mean, Brian and I text all the time.
Annie: You and Brian text?
Me: Uh-huh. You’re our number one topic.
Annie: You guys talk about me??? What the fuck, Lola? What do you say???
The absurd thing was, I actually did text with Brian. Usually, I just teased him about asking the president for approval for something random, but every once in a while, the topic would turn toward my sister.
Me: Umm…this week Brian and I discussed your obsession with being Team Logan. We both think you’re crazy. Rory should totally be with Jess.
Annie: Liar. Brian doesn’t even watch the Gilmore Girls.
Me: When you’re at Pilates on Thursday nights he does.
Annie: That bastard.
Reed’s soft chuckles pulled my attention away from Annie’s messages, and oddly enough, I found him buried in his phone and grinning like a loon.
“What’s so funny?”
“Your sister.”
I quirked a questioning brow. “What about my sister?”
“She’s texting me pictures of you,” he responded as his fingers tapped across the screen of his phone.
“Pictures of me?”
“Oh, yeah,” he answered with a wink. “Middle school. Homecoming. Prom. I gotta say, you should probably reconsider bringing back the bubblegum-pink taffeta, Roller Skates.”
“I fucking rocked that dress,” I muttered as I typed out a text to Annie.
Me: You’re a bigger asshole than all three of your kids put together.
Annie: Where do you think they got it? :)
Instead of humoring her with a response, I chose to ignore her texts for the rest of the day and redirect my focus back toward next week’s column. Served her right for being such a quick trigger with my embarrassing pictures. Plus, I knew nothing made Annie crazier than the silent treatment. No doubt, she’d be demon dialing me by seven p.m.
A new song started to play from my laptop speakers, and Reed’s brow rose in curiosity. “What band is this?”
I stared at him in absolute horror. “Excuse me?”
“I said…What. Band. Is. This?” he repeated, only ten times louder than before.
“I heard you the first time,” I retorted and shoved my toe into his stomach. He feigned a groan and I grinned. “I can’t believe you don’t know this band.”
“Well, I don’t.” He moved his fingers gently across the bottom of my foot, and I immediately pulled away with a giggle. He smirked. “Mind enlightening me?”
“It’s actually not a band. It’s a musical genius who goes by the name BØRNS. And you’re currently hearing his latest album called Dopamine.”
He nodded, and one of my favorite songs, “Holy Ghost,” continued to serenade us.
“I’m addicted to the ethereal sound he’s got going on.” I sighed dreamily and watched Reed type something on his laptop.
He chuckled. “I can tell.”
I quirked a brow, and he nodded toward my toes, which were tapping happily against his side. “Well, I can’t help it. This album is genius!” I exclaimed. “I mean, I’ve always been a fan of this guy’s dreamy, indie-style pop, but this album is different. It’s like some kind of psychedelic disco vibe with a sixties glam pop undertone. It’s brilliant, and I’ve yet to hear a song I haven’t loved.”
