Page 22 of Lose You Twice

Lily studies me for a second, then nods and rolls over.

I stand in the doorway for a breath longer than necessary.

Then I close the door.

Downstairs, the kitchen looks like a small pasta-based tornado moved through it. I clean without thinking. Plates in the dishwasher. Counters wiped. Lunch boxes rinsed. Permission slip signed. Justin’s project reminder added to my phone. Daisy and Lily’s hundredth-day penny bags placed beside their backpacks for tomorrow, because if I have to hear the word pennies before coffee again, I will drive myself to the beach and walk straight into the ocean.

Holden sits at the table with his laptop open, pretending to do homework while watching me move around the kitchen.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing.”

“That was a loud nothing.”

He shrugs. “Have you rested at all today?”

“I sat down during class and while I was driving.”

“That doesn’t count.” He pushes back from the table and takes the towel from my hand. “I’ll finish.”

“No, you have homework.”

He shrugs casually. “I’m finished.”

My eyes narrow with suspicion. “You were just typing when I walked down here.”

Holden tries to push me out of the way, but I stand firm. “I was making it look convincing, but I finished while you were getting the girls down.”

“Holden.” I use my stern voice, which works on the twins, and sometimes Justin. Seems as though this one has outgrown the fear.

He turns to me, giving me his full attention, crossing his arms. “Wren.”

We stare at each other. He wins because I am tired, and he has Dad’s stubborn jaw, which is unfortunate because I used to like his face.

“Fine,” I say. “But don’t put the plastic water bottle lids on the bottom rack.”

“I know.”

“And don’t use the lemon soap on the cast iron.”

“I know.”

“And—”

He pushes me gently out of the kitchen. “Hush and go sit down.”

Bossy little traitor.

I take my laptop to the living room and collapse onto the couch. For a full minute, I do nothing but stare at the blank TV screen and listen to the sounds of Holden cleaning in the kitchen.

It should feel good to sit down, and it does, at least a little.

Mostly it makes me feel guilty.

Guilty for the time I missed while being abroad for most of the last year. Guilty that my mom was drowning, and I didn’t know, but I also feel guilty over how quickly I put myself on the back burner and have become utterly consumed by everyone else’s needs.

Which is annoying, because guilt is not one of my scheduled activities for tonight. I’m already overbooked.