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He holds the cookie up to his mouth in a taunting manner, expecting me to fight him for it, but when he sees that I’m notreacting, he lowers it back down. His eyebrows are bunched up when he asks, “Are you really about to let me eat this?”
“Uhh, yeah.” I tuck a strand of hair that fell from my ponytail behind my ear and distract myself with looking at the rest of the cookies. I decide on the sugar cookie next and cut it in half.
“I expected to have to fight to the death to get this cookie away from you,” he laughs, but I can tell he’s really confused. He takes a massive bite, and I watch his jaw work and flex as he chews. It’s quite the sight. I did want the rest of it, but for some reason, I have no idea how to act right now.
“It’s just a cookie,” I say, which is just ridiculous, especially coming from me. It’s never just a cookie. Sugar is basically the only thing my body runs on. I take my sweets seriously.
“Okay, what’s going on with you? You’re more passionate about sweets than most people are about politics or religion or family,” he says. He’s watching me as if he’s studying some great mystery of the world. “You look like you have a lot on your mind. Is it Brandon?” he asks, throwing all caution to the wind and broaching the forbidden topic. I widen my eyes at him, hoping he’ll drop it. “I know you don’t want to talk about him anymore, but I don’t think it’s healthy for you to keep it all bottled up inside.”
“I talked to you about it just this morning. I cried in public, Josiah!”
“I know, but you should keep talking about it until you get all your feelings figured out,” he says.
I can’t tell him what’s really going on in this messed-up head of mine right now, so I just go along with his Brandon theory…even though I haven’t really thought of Brandon much at all tonight. Which is weird since it’s only been twenty-four hours since I found out he is a lying, no-good, two-timing cheat. Yes, I was devastated when everything was initially going down, but now that the dust has settled a bit, I’m mostly just feeling numb. Isn’t that weird? I thought I wanted to marry the man and have his babies. So shouldn’t I be more upset than this?
“Um. Yep. Just really sad.” I take another massive bite of cookie and spend the next several minutes chewing and trying not to choke while he watches me. His eyebrows are all scrunched up as he studies my every move.
“You’re lying,” he says.
“I’m not lying.”
“Ellis, I’ve known you for twenty-six years. I know your tells.”
“You do not. And I never lie. I’m practically Mother Theresa.”
“Ha!” he barks out a sarcastic laugh, which is really just insulting. Maybe I don’t travel the world, saving orphans, but I’m a good person. I’ve donated money to charities and natural disasters. I’ve volunteered to work at soup kitchens and to pick trash up from the side of the road. I’m a fantastic person.
“Okay, if you know me so well, what are my tells when I’m lying?” I ask, because I’d really like to know so I can make sure I never do them again. That would throw him for a loop.
He narrows his eyes for a moment. I hold my breath, waiting for him to answer. “Like I’d tell you,” he says, and I slam my palms down on the table in front of me and lean closer to him, about to demand for him to tell me. “But why would you need to know? You ‘never’ lie, remember?” He sits back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. I want to smack that smirk off his perfect face.
I sit in my seat and fold my arms over my chest, matching his posture, feeling very disgruntled. He got me there. “You’re so rude,” I grumble. He chuckles, which only annoys me more.
A few minutes later, a coworker rushes into the break roomto come get me. One of the laboring moms progressed a lot faster than we had expected, and she’s now ready to deliver her baby. Josiah closes up the cookie box as I’m rushing from the room. “I’ll put these in your car,” he hollers at my retreating form. I wave a hand at him in thanks. I’m glad he has a spare key to my car, or I’d never see the rest of those cookies. Dang break room thieves.
4
Ellis
It’s Sunday, which means it’s family dinner day. And by family, I mean my family plus Josiah and his mom, Carly. They were officially adopted into the Barker family over two decades ago, and none of us would have it any other way. I think “Aunt" Carly, as my sisters and I call her, would change her last name from Jacobs to Barker if she could. But alas, you need legal documents and stuff to do that. Bunch of nonsense, if you ask me. It doesn’t really matter, though. They’re both family, even if their last name is different. We know, and they know it.
Everyone is already milling around downstairs, cooking, talking, and just generally making a ton of racket that makes it impossible for a person to get any sleep. Don’t they know I had the longest night at work? I got off at six a.m., and it’s only noon. I’d kill for six more hours of sleep. I’d do some pretty bad stuff just for one or two more. My job is great, but having to work night shift is an obvious downside. I’d love to land aspot on the day shift, but those were all full up when I was looking for a job after I graduated. If I wanted to work labor and delivery, the only option was night shift, and I took it without hesitation. I’ve asked about switching to day shift a few times, but nurses with more seniority swipe them up faster than lightning. Maybe someday, after the bags under my eyes have turned so dark that people wonder if I’m even alive, I’ll get a spot on the day shift.
The door to my room crashes open and bangs against the wall. I peek one eye open and see Josiah standing in my doorway with an evil grin on his ridiculous face. My dad would have his hide for slamming the door against the wall like that. Just from that one act alone, you can tell he didn’t grow up with a man in the house, yelling at him for that kind of nonsense. Aunt Carly and Josiah’s dad were never actually together. It was a short-lived college fling that ended the same night she told him she was pregnant. He completely ghosted her. Josiah has never even met his dad, but he says he doesn’t care. According to him, my dad and his Grandpa Joe more than made up for the absence of his own dad.
“Josiah, if you put a hole in my wall, you will be doing the repairs!” I hear Dad yell up the stairs. Ha! That’s what you get for behaving like a wild beast and disturbing my beauty rest.
“Yes, Uncle John,” he yells while leaning his head out into the hallway. He takes a quick look at the wall to make sure it’s okay—luckily for him, it is—before taking a running jump onto the empty side of my bed. I bounce around from his weight before I groan and cover my head with my pillow. He pulls the pillow off and throws it clear across the room. A plume of dust floats in the air where it lands. Why doesn’t anyone ever let me sleep in this house?
“Josiah!” I groan, putting a little extra whine into it. No one should have to put up with this.
“Time to wake up, sleepyhead! Dinner’s ready!” he yells at the top of his lungs. I hear my sisters laugh downstairs, so this show must be for their enjoyment.
“Get out of my room! I never want to see you again!” I yell. It doesn’t hold much weight, though, due to all the laughter bubbling out of me.
“Ellis, you don’t mean that,” he laughs as he stands from the bed and scoops me up in his arms. The air outside my comforter feels freezing, and I squirm, trying to get him to drop me back on my bed so I can wrap myself back up in my little cocoon of coziness. He just holds onto me tighter so that I can’t move a single muscle.
“I don’t think so, young lady,” he says. “Your mother says to get yourself dressed and come down to join us in a timely manner.” His tone turns less playful. Not serious. Never too serious with him. But the air shifts with the turn of his voice.
