You Have a Match(38)

“So your parents are older than mine.” Another thing that makes their friendship that much more unlikely.

“My parents always told me my bios were in their early twenties when they had me, so yeah. Probably by about ten years or so.”

“Huh. What do they do for fun?”

“Aside from every wellness thing short of having an on-call astrologist?” Savvy gives a self-deprecating smile, like she hasn’t just come to terms with her parents’ little quirks, but owned them as a part of her. “They’re really into the art scene. They’re always sponsoring artists and own a bunch of galleries—Seattle, Portland, San Francisco. It’s actually how I met Jo.”

“Your girlfriend.”

“Yeah. Her dad’s an art dealer. They’re friends with my parents, and I guess they talked about us so often they thought we might hit it off.”

I frown down at the water. “Wait. Your parents set you up?”

Savvy sits up a little straighter. “What? I mean—no. It wasn’t like that.”

“It was, though.” I don’t know why this is so funny to me. No, I know exactly why—it’s because she’s turned a shade of red violent enough that cars might hit their brakes mistaking her for a stop sign. “Are you really so busy you let your parents pick your girlfriend?”

“Jo and I are both busy,” Savvy defends herself. “It’s one of the many things we have in common, and one of the many reasons why we’re dating of our own free will, thank you very much. Our parents being friends is just convenient.”

The sun has partially popped up through the clouds, filtering in streams of light across the water. The sky is opening up right as Savvy starts to close off, going quiet. I can practically hear her thinking up a graceful way to end the conversation. But suddenly I don’t want to talk parents. I’ve scratched the surface of something, and I want to dig.

“Convenient,” I repeat. She goes rigid, and I almost don’t say it: “Now there’s a sexy word.”

Savvy pushes a palm to my shoulder, indignant. I pretend to topple over in the grass, and Rufus immediately takes the opportunity to pounce, and I fall over, taking him down in the mud with me.

“I don’t see you dating anyone,” Savvy points out, letting her dog clobber me.

“How is that possible when my boyfriend is literally on top of me right now?”

At this Savvy lets out a sharp laugh, and we push through the tension to a place where we can tease each other, hopefully without worrying about setting each other’s admittedly fragile egos on fire. She pulls Rufus off me and chucks the slobbery badminton racket down the path.

“What does Jo think about this?” I ask, watching Rufus speed off.

“Think about what?”

“Uh … all five feet six inches of surprise sister that popped up in your inbox last week.”

Savvy blinks. “I—shit.” She goes rigid, like it’s only occurring to her. “I didn’t tell her.”

It feels unproductive to get offended, but it’s kind of hard not to be. Especially when she laughs again, this time in disbelief.

“I … wow. I can’t—I mean, seriously—shit.”

“Mood,” I say, because I can only get one syllable out without the hurt slipping through.

Savvy notices, her eyes ticking over to mine. She looks like she’s on the verge of apologizing, but what comes out is: “She’s gonna be so pissed.”

“Why?”

“Because I told Mickey, and she thinks—” Savvy shakes her head, cutting herself off abruptly. “It’s got nothing to do with you.” She shakes her head again, with more intention. “She probably would have said to tell my parents.”

I pick at a stray piece of grass, breaking it apart with my fingers. I should probably think about whether it’s really my place before I ask, but we’re past that, maybe. “Why didn’t you?”

She shrugs. “They had eighteen years to tell me, and didn’t. So.” It doesn’t feel like the full answer, the rest hovering between us. I glance over at her, and it gives way. “Also, I have this weird feeling that … I don’t know. Maybe things were supposed to shake out like this. Maybe we were supposed to find each other.”

“Yeah.”

My throat feels thick. Less from guilt of what we’re doing and more out of this strange obligation I feel to Savvy—this feeling that neither of us set this in motion. Something carried us to this moment, some force that’s been hovering so long in “if” that our meeting was always bound to be a “when.” I’ve never once in my life felt like something was missing, but if I left right now, I’d be leaving a part of me here with her.

Savvy hugs her knees to her chest. “Ugh. It’s been, like, two seconds. But I kind of miss them.”

I know she means her parents, because suddenly I’m thinking of mine, too. About the pancakes Asher probably bullied our dad into making, about the coffee cup I usually steal swigs of from my mom. But it’s deeper than the day-to-day. My brothers will be taller when I get back. They’ll have enough time to make a whole new routine without me. The space I come back to, whether I want it to be or not, won’t be Abby-shaped anymore—or maybe I won’t be the shape of the Abby who left.