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Poor Donovan has no idea of the bomb I just dropped. They’re both pretty open sexually, if what I hear from Kasey’s room is any indication, but sharing that openness with others? Not so much. Kasey shakes out of her shock and embarrassment and leans up to give Donovan a quick kiss.
“Oh, nothing, just Lindsey telling me she hears us, like,hears us.“ She looks at him with raised eyebrows.
Now it’s Donovan’s turn to go red in the face. This is too good; I can’t help but laugh.
“You guys, it’s really no big deal,” I try to reassure. “We’re all adults here, and now that you’re moving out, I won’t have to be scarred by your late night or early morning activities.”
I’m still laughing at both of their expressions as I stand here drinking my coffee. It makes me feel like the old Lindsey, the one who laughed and liked to tease. Those moments are few and far between these days.
There’s a buzz for someone to be let into the building while Kasey and Donovan are still trying to get over the embarrassment of being busted.
“Hello?” I say into the speaker.
“It’s me,” replies Abigail. “And the son of Satan.”
Ah, Jackson must’ve shown up for the moving party, too. I laugh, buzzing her in.
“Okay, kids, put away the shocked expressions. We have company,” I tell my sister and Donovan. They really are too easy to mess with.
The door opens and in walks Abigail, quickly slamming the door behind her.
“Good morning, love muffins. I brought champagne,” she sings as she struts her way across the room.
She holds up the bottle like a trophy, with an excited smile on her face. The door opens again behind her and in strolls Jackson. He does not look happy.
“You call me the son of Satan, she-devil? Pot, meet kettle,” Jackson growls at her.
He walks past her, grabbing the bottle out of her hand. Abigail shrugs and rolls her eyes.
“I brought the champagne, thank you very much,” he announces, as he sets it down on the kitchen counter along with a bag of plastic cups.
“Hopefully everything is packed already because I have no interest in wrapping glassware. I brought us plastic and some orange juice to make it respectable to drink at… what god-awful time is it?” Jackson groans while pretending to look at the watch he isn’t wearing. Such a drama queen, this one.
“It’s ten o’clock. Well past when the rest of us actually become functioning members of society,” Abigail retorts, rolling her eyes at him again. My mother always said they would get stuck if you kept doing that. Maybe her mom didn’t impart the same wisdom.
“Mimosas are totally respectable at ten a.m. Thanks for coming over guys, but we hired movers. They should be here any minute, and no, we don’t have to pack glasses, so don’t worry, Jackson. Lindsey and Aiden are still here, and I figured Aiden was just pretty much bringing his stuff since his old apartment came furnished,” my sister says.
Of course, plastic glasses make clean-up that much easier, so I’m all about it. Doing dishes half-tossed is such a buzzkill.
Kasey may not have needed the help, but I know she appreciates our friends showing up, especially when they bring alcohol. She unloads the cups and orange juice as Donovan pops the bottle. He pours us all champagne with just a touch of orange juice, how a mimosa should be, and raises his glass, signaling for a toast.
“I just want to say I love this woman standing next to me with my whole heart, and I appreciate you guys being here to toast this step we’re taking. If it wasn’t for the three of you, I don’t know if Kasey and I would have made it here.” He leans over and gives her a little kiss behind her ear. I think I see him lick it, too. Gross. “Here’s to having friends who always have your back and are always here with excellent champagne.” He lifts his glass higher to a chorus ofhere-here.
There’s another buzz at the door. Kasey walks over and looks out the window, seeing a giant truck parked in front of our building.
“Movers are here,” she tells the room.
Kasey looks at me with a concerned and slightly sad expression. I return the look with a bright smile on my face before finishing the rest of my mimosa. I don’t want her to think I’m not okay with this. I’m a little freaked out about having strangers in and out of the apartment, but I know Jackson will stick close to me. He’s not really the ‘let me carry that box for you’ type of guy. Most of this stuff is staying, anyway, so it’s not like there’s a ton of things to move in the first place, but what she’s taking is heavy as shit.
When Donovan started staying here, they bought a new bed, something more expensive and super comfy. That’s going to the new place with all my sister’s office furniture. Donovan offered to buy her all new things, but Kasey still doesn’t have the spend-at-will mentality. However, they did pick up a new bed for Aiden. Thank God. Otherwise, we would’ve had a mattress burning party on the little outside patio. I hope he appreciates me looking out for him when I told them to buy him a new bed. I giggle a little at the idea of Aiden needing to appreciate anything I do for him. He saved my life and sanity just a few months ago. I think I’ll be paying him back for the next seventy-three years or so.
Abigail, Jackson and I are standing in the kitchen while the movers are filing in to get my sister’s bedroom and office furniture moved, each flanking me on either side. I’m sure they sense my discomfort, that and they hate being too close to one another in such a small space. They’re good bodyguards for me and I’m a good buffer for them. Win-win.
Kasey and Donovan are busy directing traffic, so Abigail has the opportunity to ask the questions she doesn’t want Kasey overhearing.
“Are you really okay with this, Linds?” she asks quietly.
Even though I understand why everyone keeps questioning me, I wish they’d stop. I’ve done a lot of work with my therapist online, and the more that people question my mental or emotional state, the less I feel like I’m healing.
