The Reunion(47)

As she walks deeper into the room, her eyes travel around and she asks, “If I open your dresser, is everything going to be organized in bins?”

“If you open the dresser drawer, you’re going to find nothing, but I know the closet is organized.” Shit, why did I just say that? “On second thought, I really think my mom is calling you . . .”

On a snort, she walks toward the closet, and panic swallows me whole. I can’t remember what the hell is organized in there, nor can I recall any of these green boxes. I swear if Mom just said that to freak me out, I’m going to . . . hell, do nothing. But I need to save face, so I rush in front of her and stop her from opening it. “I can handle the closet. You know, I really think my mom needs help with the scones. Or you can search under the bed.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “And I would do what? Take a magnifying glass to the floor, looking for a speck of dust that might bring back memories? Not sure if you’ve noticed, but there’s nothing in this room.”

I can’t help chuckling. “You know, you’ve become awfully lippy in the last couple of days.”

She smiles up at me. “Deal with it.” Then she moves past me, her shoulder brushing mine, and goes to the closet. She flings the door open, revealing stacked box after stacked box, everything labeled, everything neatly placed. Oh okay . . . yeah, not so bad after all. I take in the labels—astronomy, writing, awards—nothing damning. “Ugh, this is infuriating.”

“Why?” I ask with relief.

“Because I was kind of hoping for this to be a Monica Geller–type situation, where everything is clean besides this one closet and it’s her dirty little secret.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

And just as the tension in my shoulders leaves, Larkin scans up toward the top of the closet. “Aha, the good stuff. The green boxes.” Shit, really? She reaches up on her tiptoes for them but barely makes it up to the top shelf. “Damn.” She turns to me. “I’m going to need a boost so I can get these.”

“And you think you’re going to get that boost from me?”

“Uh, yeah. Be a good boss and lift me up.”

“You’ve lost your mind.” Knowing Larkin, she will find a way to reach these boxes with or without me, so I might as well be the one who touches them first so I can filter out anything she doesn’t need to see. I move her to the side and easily reach up to grab one of the boxes. Larkin claps her hands enthusiastically and reaches for it, but I block her instead, allowing myself a peek inside.

“Hey, I need to know the contents of that box.” She jumps behind me, attempting to look over my shoulder.

Ignoring her, I let my eyes adjust to what’s inside, and that’s when I spot a black spiral-bound notebook. That’s it, just one notebook. Nothing else. That’s odd. Why would I . . . ohhhhh shit.

And then it hits me like a freight train.

Oh hell no.

Nope.

No way is she going to see this.

I snap the box shut. “Nothing in here. Let’s, uh . . . let’s try another box.”

Larkin’s face lights up—she doesn’t believe me for a second. “Oh, there’s something good in there, isn’t there. I can tell from the blush on your cheeks. Let me see.” She reaches for the box, but I keep it out of reach. “Ford, stop, I want to see.”

“This is none of your concern.”

“With the way your upper lip is starting to perspire, this is most definitely my concern.”

“No, I really think we’re good leaving this one alone.”

She lunges for the box, but I hold it above my head where she can’t reach it.

She jumps.

She swats.

She even attempts to tickle me, but I hold strong.

“Give me that box!” Her voice is strained as she keeps jumping at my arm.

“Never.”

“Give . . . it . . . here.”

“Stop that.” I push her little jumping body away. “This is none of your concern.”

“Give it.”

“No.”

“Ford, hand it over, right this instant.”

“It’s cute that you think your barely authoritative voice is going to make me change my mind. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to discuss something with my mom.” Because why the hell would she keep something like this?

No one in their right mind should ever see this. Ever.

Especially Larkin.

Humiliation is already creeping up the back of my neck . . .

I take a step toward the door, but Larkin stands up on my bed and jumps midair onto my back, knocking me off balance. We both slam into the wall and slide down to the floor, the box flying out of my hands.

“What the actual hell,” I say as she scrambles off my back and across the floor to the green box.

Thinking quickly, I grab her foot and stop her, inches from taking hold of it.

“Let go,” she says, kicking her leg around.

“Jesus, you’re strong.”

“This is not boss-like behavior. I will take you to human resources,” she pants, twisting and kicking her legs.

“And I will tell them how you pounced on me first.”

“HR likes me better than you—they’ll take my side.” She scrambles, and she’s gaining centimeters on me.