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Her eyes follow the sparkling water into the fridge. “Okay, those we actually needed.”
“I know.”
She looks at me. “You don’t miss a thing, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you.”
A pretty pink flush fans out over her cheeks, but she adjusts her glasses and acts like she’s not affected by the way she’s become the most important person in my life.
I give her an out, pretending I don’t see as I shut the refrigerator, and Goldie goes back around the island and settles onto her stool. She opens her laptop the rest of the way while I pull the rice from the pantry.
“What are you working on?”
“Editing. I have a client gallery I want to finish tonight.”
I measure rice into a pot and carry it to the sink. At some point, I stopped having to think about where anything is in this kitchen. My protein powder has a spot in the pantry beside Goldie’s cereal. My meal-prep containers are stacked with hers. My shaker bottle is drying next to one of those weird vintage glasses she collects, this one covered in little painted mushrooms.
There’s even a pint of the peach ice cream I made shoved behind the frozen waffles because she claims she’ll eat the whole thing if she has to look at it every time she opens the freezer.
She’s probably right, but I’d happily make her as much peach ice cream as she can eat.
I set the rice on the stove, then pull a skillet from the cabinet and a cutting board from beside it.
Goldie peers over the top of her laptop at the peppers beside my cutting board. “Make mine spicy.”
“You sure? You had heartburn last night.”
She makes a face. “Ugh, I forgot about that.” After a second, she gestures toward the bottle of hot sauce on the counter. “Leave that out. I’ll add some if I decide it’s worth suffering later.”
“Got it.”
I get the chicken seasoned and into the skillet, wash my hands, then start slicing the peppers while she goes back to the photo on her screen.
My phone buzzes against my thigh a minute later. I set the knife down, wipe my hands on the dish towel, and pull it out.
COLSTON: found another one of your hoodies in my laundry
A second message comes in.
COLSTON: should i just box up the rest of your shit and send it to goldie’s or
Then:
COLSTON: starting to think you don’t love me anymore
I grin and type back.
SUMNER: miss you too, Jenny
His answer appears almost immediately.
COLSTON: too late
COLSTON: you abandoned me for your girlfriend
COLSTON: I see how it is
I look over at Goldie. “Colston’s being a pouty asshole because he says I’ve abandoned him.”
