Reckless(36)

“Tori, wait.” I find my voice. “Can I talk to you a sec?”

Cody starts to wail in my lap, and I look around for one of his toys, but I’ve already packed them at the bottom of his diaper bag. Motherfuck.

“Ethan, we can talk when I get back on Sunday.” She pauses. “Have fun on your date.”

This is not good.

But then Sandra tells her to wait.

Tori turns to her, the expression on her face a mask of indifference.

“Think you might be able to babysit for me again? For the next time Ethan and I go out?”

Oh, fuck no.

Tori looks at me. Finally.

I shake my head, wanting her to understand that I’m not gonna let this happen. That there’s no way I’m going on a date with Sandra.

But Tori doesn’t get my meaning. Because those hazel eyes that are usually warm and inviting glint with aloofness.

“Not a prob.” Under her breath, so soft I almost don’t catch it, she adds, “That’s about all I’m good for. Babysitting.”

“You’re the best!” Sandra hugs her, and Tori laughs. It’s a cold, mirthless sound that breaks my heart a little.

Then she’s gone.





19





Tori





“Are you sure you don’t want some pie?” my sister asks gently. “It’s your favorite, pecan.”

I shake my head and curl up tighter under the blanket. It’s the middle of summer in Texas, but the hill country can get cold at night, and right now I have a chill I can’t seem to shake. “I’m sorry I’m crashing your date. If you can get Brady’s parents to babysit tomorrow, I can probably stay at Val’s.”

She nods, places the pie on the coffee table, and slowly lowers herself next to me on the couch. “So you’re really not going to tell me what happened back there? One second you were all smiles, and the next, you were the Roadrunner, kicking up dust with your flip-flops from speeding out the diner so fast.”

The words die on my lips. I’m tired of hearing myself complain about my life. So tired. I’m ready to be more, to expect more and deserve it. And if I’ve only been imagining that Ethan wants me, then it’s time to buck the fuck up and get over it. Even if I am hurt about his date with Sandra.

My sister waits patiently, like always.

“Men confuse me,” I offer lamely. “I never know if I’m coming or going, and I’m so over it.” Her soft hand reaches out and holds mine in quiet solidarity.

“Things aren’t working out with Ethan?”

“No, and I can’t even back out of this job because I’ve already sublet my place in Austin. Not that I want to leave you, but you know I’m not good with conflict.”

Maybe slashing Jamie’s tires last summer was a tad over-the-top, but I figured he owed me for emotional distress.

Ethan doesn’t make me feel that degree of lunacy. Yet.

Which is why I should get my heart on lockdown before I get so riled up. I’ll be polite to him and eat dinner with his family, since he’s already asked me to, but I’m not hanging out with him alone anymore. I need to be smart and protect myself.

She squeezes my hand. “You’re just passionate. When you love someone, you give your whole heart.”

“I’m tired of giving my whole heart. I want to not give a shit.” I lean my head on her shoulder and close my eyes.

“Can I offer some unsolicited advice?”

I nod and wait for her to unload her big sister wisdom on me.

“Before you write off Ethan, give him a chance to explain. I don’t know what happened between you guys, and I don’t expect you to tell me, but men make mistakes, even when they care about you.”

I can’t bring myself to tell her the reality of the situation. That he’s going on a date with Sandra tomorrow night. That I shouldn’t care because nothing happened between us. We didn’t sleep together, we didn’t mess around. Hello, he never even kissed me.

But I thought… I thought that we were becoming friends and that maybe he liked me. That maybe he wanted more.

No, he wants more with Sandra. I’m just the nanny, someone he was probably buttering up so I’d take good care of his kids. Or maybe he thought I was someone he could fuck on the side but not get invested.

All of this makes me feel like a bigger loser, but I don’t want to underscore the sad state of my nonexistent love life to my sister.

“How did you know Brady was the one?” I don’t know where the question comes from, but I feel like a boat without a rudder, and I have no clue how to maneuver these waters.

“Hmm.” A big, dopey smile lifts her lips, and her hands gravitate to her swollen tummy. “You know how in art, they say the negative space in a painting or drawing is just as important as the image itself? In fact, sometimes the negative space is an image unto itself.”

“Okaaaay.” Please connect the dots for me, Kat, because I have no clue what you mean.

“Brady is my negative space, or maybe I’m his. But the best thing about negative space is how it changes your whole perspective of the composition once you can appreciate that component. It becomes more, almost like it’s breathing and changing before your very eyes. One minute you think you’re seeing one image, and the next, it’s different. And no matter what the images show, they always fit together perfectly.”