Page 194 of That Rush

“It’s one afternoon,” I say. “I think you’ll survive.”

“I am less worried about surviving the meal than how I arrived on the guest list.”

“You were invited.”

“Your mother asked you. You answered for me.”

“She asked both of us.”

“She looked at you.”

“She knows I keep the calendar.”

Paige’s eyebrows lift. “Whose calendar?”

The words are quiet enough that no one beyond our end of the table should hear them, but Mom sets her glass down with deliberate care.

I know the correct answer. Ours would make Paige bristle. Mine would sound like I’m managing her. Hers would ignore the fact that our lives overlap more every week.

“I’ll ask next time,” I tell her.

“You said that last time.”

Her voice stays even. That control twists the irritation deeper beneath my ribs. She is here beside me, holding my hand under the table, yet she holds back from one dinner three months from now.

Josie appears between us, flushed from running and carrying a cup with more lemonade on the outside than inside.

“Are we talking about Thanksgiving?” she asks.

Mom smiles at her. “We are.”

Josie looks straight at Paige. “You’re coming too, right?”

Her excitement carries the question across the table, and the surrounding conversation stills.

Paige’s fingers tighten around mine.

“I haven’t decided yet,” she tells Josie.

Josie’s smile falters. “But you’ll be living with us by Thanksgiving.”

The conversation around the table stops. Even Dad turns away from the grill.

I straighten. “What makes you think Paige is moving in?”

“You gave her a key,” Josie says it as if the answer should be obvious. “And a drawer. And closet hangers. And the bathroom shelf. And the place under the sink.”

“She still has her cabin.”

“I know. That’s where her other stuff is.”

Paige slips her hand from mine and folds both of hers in her lap. “Did your dad tell you I was moving in, sweetheart?”

“No.” Josie looks between us. “He made room for you. People make room when someone is going to live there.”

“I made room so she wouldn’t have to pack every Friday,” I say.

“Right. Because she’ll already be there.”