If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(18)

Mo bounded toward me after relieving himself, so we headed back inside.

“Who’s the best puppy?” I chased him up the stairs, speaking in my silly doggy voice. “You are, Fluffy. Yes, you are.”

Mrs. Wagner opened her door a crack when we hit the second floor. After giving me the standard disapproving once-over, she said, “Oh, it’s you. I heard a commotion.”

The stench that wafted into the hallway nearly knocked me back down the stairs. Mo’s nose twitched, and then he beelined for her door to get to those cats, but she closed it in our faces before he could slip inside.

“Have a good evening,” I sang out while giving her the mental finger. I’d never been anything but polite, yet she judged my appearance despite how she lived in that stench?

I tromped up the last flight of stairs and reentered the apartment. My apartment now that Max had gone, or mine until the end of the month, anyway. I’d have to seriously reevaluate my finances before signing a new lease.

In fairness, Max had left things neater than I’d expected. Granted, most of the stuff was mine from before he moved in, so he’d had to pack only his clothes and a few other things. Good riddance to the mustache-shaped napkin holder he’d gotten from his cousin Ned as a groomsmen gift, and to the Jack Daniel’s bottle collection. But the living area looked a little pathetic without the colorful jute kilim rug that had been in front of the TV stand. The bookshelf stood nearly naked now that he’d cleared out the great books he’d owned. And the corner of the room was downright gloomy without the glow from his funky industrial table lamp.

Mo lapped some water while I strolled through the space. A hint of the patchouli and sage oils Max had used to combat his eczema pervaded the air. That might linger until I washed all the blankets and pillows. Somehow it felt wrong to erase every trace of him so quickly, so I’d let the scent dissipate on its own.

A teeny part of me suddenly missed his silly grin. The silence struck me, too. Ah, Max had also taken his beloved TV. Well, that was no loss. And in any case, being on my own had never bothered me before. I simply needed to reclaim this space.

Maybe after dinner I’d return, pour myself a glass of wine, and allow myself a moment of melancholy about my fizzled, once-promising love affair. Then I’d fire up a great album and experiment with a new batch of sugar scrubs. At least now I could work without being distracted by Daniel Tosh’s crude jokes.

Independence was good. A chance to plan for all my ideas. The prospect of rockin’ my thirties had me bouncing on my toes.

First I’d have to survive dinner.

I glanced at my attire—Converse high-tops, yoga pants, a sports bra, and a loose-fitted T-shirt. If I hadn’t missed the baby shower shopping extravaganza, I’d show up dressed like this. But “workout clothes at the table” would bug Amanda and my mom, so I pulled on jean shorts, a cute pink-camo top, and my bronze metallic Birkenstocks. After finger-combing the right side of my head, I was ready to face the firing squad.

My thumbs flew across the phone’s keyboard.

Be there soon. What can I bring?

Within minutes, she replied.

Nothing. I’ve got it covered.

She always had everything covered. Sometimes I suspected she said that because it came off as considerate while simultaneously squeezing my ideas right out of the picture.

The few times I’d tried to introduce my family to new foods—like an awesome sweet potato–turmeric miso soup from the Herb Box—she and my mom had flashed that polite smile before shooting each other “the look.” Then, instead of giving it a fair chance, they took minuscule samples before quietly setting it aside.

I grabbed a half-empty can of whipped cream from my fridge, knowing Amanda probably wouldn’t have any. Lyle didn’t allow sugar in that house, whereas whipped cream qualified as a major food group in mine. Good for coffee, cocoa, ice cream, and even an occasional squirt in the mouth as a pick-me-up.

Mo had climbed up to his favorite spot on the back of the sofa cushions, where he could stare out the window. I’d take him with me, but the possibility of him scratching her floors or furniture made Amanda a little nervous.

Bending at the waist, I gave him some lovin’. “Sorry to leave you so soon, MoMo, but you hang here and keep an eye on the place till I get back.”

After snatching my keys off the dining table, I locked the door behind me. Ten minutes later, my bike was parked in front of my sister’s garage. Not a leaf or speck of dirt lay anywhere on her driveway. All the flower beds were neatly fashioned. Cheerful tulips blew in the breeze, heralding spring. Postcard perfect, the way she liked it.

I trotted up the two steps to the front porch and knocked on the door. Lexi and her sister, Aisha, walked into each other’s homes without any announcement. Amanda might pass out if I tried that. Then again, I hadn’t exactly made her free to waltz into my apartment, either.

It seemed weird that we weren’t closer, considering we’d shared a room as kids. While Amanda hated that I was messy, she had also read aloud to me at night and otherwise generally treated me like her personal baby doll. The little cocoon had been kind of comforting at times. But somewhere along the way, things had changed.

Simply put, we were oil and water. Amanda had preferred to pull what I called “bored” games off the shelf on rainy days, never once joining me outside to jump in the mud.