“Hey,” I say, in the gentle tone I used on Coco, because I’m not sure what mood to expect.
Anger, sadness, and confusion are all possibilities.
He glances up and hits me with a devastating smile. “Hey, roomie.”
I smile, but I don’t know how to respond. Over this past year, I’ve learned it’s not beneficial to me to hold things inside and just hope it works out in my best interest. In a glorious sign I’ve matured, I blurt out, “Are we roomies? Logan asked me to move in, but with you and Lucy…”
“Wait. Hold up.” He props his duster against the wall. “He asked you to move in?”
I perch on the couch’s arm. “Yeah. Last night after the wedding.”
“You barely know him.” He runs a hand through his hair, rumpling the dark tresses. “Why would he ask you to move in so soon?”
Lucy’s comments about “big brother” blare in my head. Will he ever realize I’m a grown woman? “I don’t know, because I needed somewhere to live?”
Is it really that odd? Not everyone lives by society’s acceptable timetable. Granny Mae only knew my grandfather for a week before they got hitched. What’s normal to one person isn’t necessarily normal to another, but now Austin’s got me thinking that—what if it really is all about watering his plants?
“You have somewhere to live,” he says. “You know you can stay here if you want. Do you not want to stay?”
This is not going how I planned. It’s not supposed to be about me. I’m here to help him through his suffering and find out what happened. “Well, I didn’t have a place twenty-four hours ago when he asked me. He was just being nice.”
“Are you going to move in with him?”
A crease forms between his brows, and even though I want to smooth it out by assuring him, the new and mature me isn’t rushing into decisions anymore. I should give it more time to decide where I’ll end up living permanently, wait until he’s stronger and less vulnerable. After all, what happens if I decide to stay and then Lucy comes back into the picture? The only thing worse than not having Austin as a roommate would be having them both.
“Maybe we should do it month-to-month while we figure out, you know...whatever?” I think it’s probably impolite to just say he needs to figure out his life before we commit to anything long-term.
He sighs, heavily. “I agree we have to figure out the…whatever. So we’re on the same, you know, page.”
I nod, wondering if we’ll ever be on the same page. Usually I feel like I’m in a different book than everyone else. Regardless, it feels wrong to abandon him right now so I say, “I’m definitely in for staying. For a while. If month-to-month works for you, then sign me up.”
“Month-to-month works for me. If that’s what you want.” His dark eyes look so forlorn that my chest aches. “I can give you time to figure things out. I’m not going anywhere.”
Ugh. Speaking from experience, after a breakup, as much as I wanted to burrow in my bed and dwell on my faults, it’s helpful to have friends who refuse to let you wallow in despair. I need to practice being a good friend and keeping him busy.
“Great.” I stand. He’s already cleaned, and I’m not hungry, what else can I assign him? “Hey, maybe we can plant that garden you were wanting.”
That perks him up, and his eyes brighten. “Yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been putting it off for too long.”
I’m good at this being a Good Friend supportive thing. I should lean into this and take the moral support further. “Should we talk? No pressure, though. Whenever you’re ready.”
“Yes. We should definitely talk.” He turns and heads toward the kitchen. “I’ll make us breakfast.”
I follow behind him. “Well, Logan made pancakes before I left, so we can just talk. You don’t have to cook me anything.”
He stops mid-stride. “He cooks?”
I nod and scoot past him. “Yeah. You two actually have a lot in common.”
Still in the entryway, he crosses his arms, eyes narrowed. “What flavor?”
“Blueberry.” They were delicious, picture perfect, light and fluffy with crisp edges. But I feel Austin’s too fragile to handle that information, so I keep it to myself.
“Whipped cream on top?”
“Um, no. Just syrup.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not the kind you like or how you like them. Did he bother to ask how you liked them?”
Ugh. I can’t tell him there was no whipped topping because he ate it off of me before shower sex. Or that it turns out I didn’t think I liked blueberry pancakes because I’d never had real blueberry pancakes, just the sad fast-food variety that I was today years old when I discovered aren’t even made with real blueberries. I’m sure he’s feeling sensitive right now after being dumped, and needs a self-esteem boost, so I say, “Yeah, but you know, I can always find room for one of your delicious omelettes.”
That works. The rigid squareness leaves his shoulders, and he moves to the refrigerator. I take a seat at the dinette table, ready to be a good listener. I’m dying to get some answers about their split, but it’s not a good idea to pressure him into discussing it before he’s ready. While I wait for him to spill the tea, he pulls out a carton of eggs. Then a block of cheese, but still silence. Then a baggie of spinach…a stick of butter…a skillet…a spatula…and a mixing bowl. No tea. He focuses on cracking eggs and whisking them into oblivion, and I realize it’s time to take matters into my own hands. I nudge him along.
“So, tell me what happened. I’ll just listen and remain neutral. There will be no judgment or advice. You and Lucy were serious, so for her to dump you—”
“I was the one who was the dumper.” He drops a chunk of butter in the pan.
I pull on my earlobes in case I heard him wrong. “Excuse me?”
“I broke up with Lucy.”
I know I said I’d listen; the experts recommend it. But it’s impossible to remain neutral and not interject when a person drops a bombshell on you. Never did it cross my mind that Austin was the dumper. Once he commits, that’s it. It’s how he’s been with everything from his job to his favorite movie. So though I know I need to remain quiet and just nod, let him continue leaning on me, he has made it impossible.
“What? Why? You were about to move in together! How do you go from moving in together to not being together at all?”
He pours egg in the sizzling skillet, prodding it with his spatula. “Like you’ve never dug in your heels to try to salvage something, even after you realize you’d misdirected your feelings?”
I kind of hate that he knows me so well and ponder my next words because obviously moving in together freaked Austin out to the point he broke up with Lucy. Part of me feels sad he ended their relationship just to avoid the commitment, and the other part is proud of myself that I didn’t break up with Logan for the same reason. My metamorphosis is almost complete.
“Well, you could have fooled me,” I say. “You seemed really happy.”
I mean, they did fool me. I guess the old saying “appearances can deceive” applies to them. I’ve been so busy with my own love life, I clearly missed their demise. Charlotte had said things were strange at the bachelorette party, and I guess she was right. Is that why Lucy was all over him? Did she sense the end was near?