Page 25 of All Our Nevers

Lia: what if you and i go early and owen takes a and s

Nolan: Isn’t the stuff you bought at his place?

Lia: UGH FML

“Your chariot awaits,” Owen says through the rolled-down window of his penis-overcompensation-mobile.

“I’m getting the worst déjà vu right now.”

“There’s that winning personality.” His eyes drift down to the sidewalk next to me. “And that’s a dog.”

“Correct. Gold star to you.” I pull open the back door of his truck, tossing in both my bags, then bending to lift Archie.

“Woah woah woah—” The driver’s door snaps open and then he’s there, wedging himself between me and the car. “You’re just gonna put that dog in my truck?”

“He’s a really good car dog.”

“I have leather seats.”

“And I have a dog that can’t be left alone for three days.”

Owen looks like he’s buffering, a lock of dark hair falling out of place across his forehead. “Can—I just—wait a second.”

He reaches into the back seat for his suitcase, unzipping it and pulling out button-ups to lay in a flat row.

“You really want my dog to sit on your tailored shirts?”

“I can dry clean the shirts,” he says. “Can’t dry clean the car.”

Only once Archie is squared away, sitting handsomely in his safety harness and buckled in with a seatbelt, do I say from the passenger seat, “Nobody likes an animal-hater, you know.”

“I like animals,” Owen replies defensively, shifting into reverse.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“I just don’t get the appeal of pets.” He shifts the gear into drive and the turn signal click-click-clicks. “Why would I elect to have another creature totally dependent on me? Like I don’t have enough going on.”

“Having a pet is one of the most rewarding experiences a person can have,” I argue. “Sounds like you’re just a commitment-phobe, my dude.”

“Yeah whatever,” he scoffs, leaning forward to turn on the radio (good to know he’s trainable) and cutting the conversation short.

We merge onto 90, then 93, then we’re leaving the Boston city limits. And I’m glad. Not just because I’m determined to make this the best weekend of Sophie and Andy’s lives, but also because running into Connor last weekend… it was too much. The distance is a relief.

“We should go over the plan,” I say, reaching forward to turn the volume down, “so we’re on the same page before they arrive.”

He just says, “Fine.”

My Notes app is already open. “Okay. Today we arrive, set up the decorations, Nolan drives Sophie and Andy down after work so they should be here by 6:30 or 7:00. Everyone will be groggy from driving so we’ll just do dinner and drinks at the Airbnb, but that means we have to get groceries before they arrive, on top of setting up the decorations. We can save time if we order a grocery delivery instead of actually going to the store.”

“What are we making for dinner?” Owen asks, mercifully understanding that I’ve already made these decisions. Thank God. If he tried to fight me on this we might have actually ended up in hand-to-hand combat.

“Well, both of Sophie and Andy’s favorite foods are really winter-y so I don’t think we should bother with them.”

“What are they?”

“Sophie’s is spaghetti and meatballs because she’s five years old. And Andy’s is… ?” I trail off, giving him a chance to finish the sentence.

“Are you asking me?” His eyes flick over to me from the road for a second.