“What are you doing?” I ask, stopping in the doorway.
He looks up, startled, then relaxes when he realizes it’s just me. “Amber. I’m, uh, going to be sleeping up here tonight. And maybe for a little while. But don’t worry, I’ll use the downstairs bathroom to get ready. I don’t want you to have to share.”
The fact that he thinks I care about bathroom sharing when there’s so much else wrong with this situation is totally ridiculous, and suddenly I am so, so angry. At him for leaving last night and at my mom for not telling me what he wanted to do and at the million other things that led to this moment.
But it’s late and I’m tired and I don’t want to make anything worse. So I say, “Whatever. Fine,” and take Buffy to my room, shutting the door firmly behind us.
thirty-three
The next few days suck.
Kevin is still sleeping in the guest room. Cammie is avoiding me and won’t respond to any of my texts. And Mom is putting in long hours at the bakery, allegedly since they have a bunch of weddings coming up the next two weekends. I don’t buy that as an excuse though. I know the real reason is she doesn’t want to be at home right now, and I can’t say I blame her. I’m spending pretty much every moment I can either at Jordan’s or at Hannah’s, just to escape the awkwardness.
Saturday morning at work I force myself to dredge up enthusiasm when I tell Stephanie about the Lawrence trip and my interview with Pet Universe. She’s pumped for me, as expected, and seems totally convinced that I’ll get the job.
“They haven’t called me yet, but I’m sure they will any day now,” she says.
I smile gamely at her even though hearing that Carol hasn’t started calling my references yet bums me out even more than I already have been.
Saturday night Buffy and I do a movie night at Hannah’s. She’s in full pep-talk mode, so I mostly just nod and smile when she tells me that Mom and Kevin are definitely going to make up, and that I just need to try talking to Cammie again to set the record straight. In the middle of movie number two of the evening and lecture number five million, I find myself wishing Ryan had come over for movie night instead of going to a party with Megan. I could use a dose of his quiet right now. And his ever-present chocolate stash, because I am definitely in the mood to eat my feelings.
On Sunday I go to Jordan’s for lunch, and afterward we play a few games of horse in the weak sunlight. When we can’t feel our fingers anymore we go inside and down to his room, where he curls up next to me on his bed and lets me be quiet. It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt since we were in Lawrence, which I can’t believe was only five days ago.
“Has she texted you back yet?” I ask him finally, the same question I’ve been asking him daily since everything went down. I’m not the only one Cammie has been avoiding for the last few days. She’s been freezing Jordan out too, and the knowledge that she’s cutting him off because he’s with me is the hardest part of all of this.
He shakes his head. “I left her another message yesterday and texted again this morning, but I’m still getting radio silence.”
I can hear the hurt in his voice and tears prick the backs of my eyes because this is all my fault. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle of this stuff.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says, reaching out to brush my hair off my face. “Cam’s the one who stopped talking to me. You didn’t make her do that.”
“I think I did though,” I say.
“Amber. Stop. Okay?”
“Sorry,” I say, pushing myself upright and avoiding his eyes. “I’d better go. I need to let Buffy out.”
“Hey,” he says, his voice low. “Don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything. I really do need to get her.”
I can feel him watching me, and I stay still, waiting to see if he’ll push me on this or let it go.
After a long moment, he sighs and sits up too. “Come on,” he says, getting to his feet and holding out a hand to pull me up. “I’ll walk you home.”
* * *
It’s Valentine’s Day week and the whole school has been decorated in pink and glitter and hearts on Monday morning. The pep club has a table set up during lunch every day where we can buy carnations to send to people on Thursday, and it seems like every conversation I overhear in the hallways is about what people are doing for the holiday. Even Hannah has been caught by the bug, though she does her best to curb her enthusiasm in front of me.
The last thing I want to do is celebrate a day of love, since I am apparently a love ruiner of all kinds, but when Jordan says, “You’re still coming over Thursday night, right?” at lunch on Monday, I can’t help feeling a little intrigued.
“Why?” I ask, looking up from my nachos and narrowing my eyes at him. “You don’t have something cheesy planned, do you?”
He smiles at me easily, apparently not mad at me for bailing on him yesterday. “Maybe. You’ll have to wait and see.”
* * *
That night after work I run into Kevin in the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth, and hurries to spit when I come in the door.
“I’m sorry,” he says, mouth full of foam. “Claire was in bed already and I didn’t want to wake her up.”
“It’s okay,” I say shortly. “I need to brush too.”
“Oh, here.” He scoots over so that I have room at the sink, and after a moment of hesitation I step up beside him and grab my toothbrush out of the holder.
“Thanks.” I reach for the toothpaste but then I stop, watching Kevin’s reflection in the mirror as he starts scrubbing at his teeth again and spits into the sink. He looks tired. And old. And sad. Mostly that. And maybe that’s what makes me say, “Kevin? Do you love my mom?”
Slowly, he sets his toothbrush on the counter and stares at me. “Of course I do.”
“Then why did you leave that night?” I ask, staring down at my toothbrush and running my fingers over the embossed letters of my name. “She was just trying not to hurt me.”
He’s quiet for a long, long moment. And then he says, “Yes, she explained that. And you are absolutely right. Leaving that night was the wrong thing to do, and I’m sorry. For hurting your mom … and for hurting you.”
My breath catches and a lump rises in my throat at this frank acknowledgment.
“It’s okay,” I say, looking up. But he shakes his head.
“It’s not, and you don’t need to tell me that it is. Okay?”
I nod. And then, because I’ve been wondering about this for days now but haven’t felt like I could ask until this moment, I say, “So … a house?”
He laughs and the sound is such a welcome break to the tension that I find myself smiling in response.
“Yes,” he says, leaning against the counter. “It’s by Nineteenth and Iowa. Not big or fancy, but it’s close enough to walk to campus and it has a fenced-in yard. Jeff said the renters living there now are graduating this year, so it’ll be open August first. I sent Oscar up to check it out for me in December, since I couldn’t make the trip myself. He knew right away it was the one.”
“How much?” I ask, once I’ve had a second to take everything in. “Because I’ve looked at some of the listings for rentals in that area and I know I can’t afford them on my own.”
“I think you could make this work with your budget,” Kevin says, serious now, and then he rattles off a number that I commit to memory so that I can crunch it later. He studies me for a second, then adds, “But your mom told you that I would like to pay for your portion of the rent, right?”
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes this sentence. “No. I’m not your kid, and if for some reason you and Mom don’t work out, I can’t…” I take a deep breath and try again. “I just can’t take your money, okay? I can’t plan on having it for something that means so much to me when you could just take it away anytime you want.”
“I would never do that,” Kevin says slowly
. “But I understand.”
“Good.” Something about his tone makes me suspect that he really does understand. That maybe Mom told him about my rules, and why everything about this is so hard. But I don’t want to talk to Kevin about those details before I talk to her, so for now, I keep my mouth shut.
“Are you open to looking at the house, though? Because I think it would be perfect for you and Buffy. And Hannah, if she changes her mind about the dorms.”
“I don’t know.” I look down at the sink. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“Of course,” he says. “Jeff said he’d hold it for us as long as we need for you to decide what works best for you. No obligation. Okay?”
I nod, fighting back tears. I have a lot to think about, but that part can come later. For now, I decide to tell Kevin the truth. “I’m glad you’re home, even if you are sleeping in the guest room. Just so you know.”
He smiles. “I’m glad too.”
He turns to go out the door that leads to the guest room.
“Wait!”
He looks back at me.
“Mom loves Italian food,” I say. “Especially from Ti Amo.”
“Ti Amo,” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
“That could be good for Valentine’s Day,” he says slowly. “Don’t you think?” I nod and he smiles again. “Okay. Good night, Amber.”
“Good night.” I finish brushing my teeth and I go back to my room and put on pajamas and crawl into bed, patting the space beside me so Buffy will hop up too. She curls into my side and I run my fingers through her fur.
For the first time in days, I don’t have trouble falling asleep.
* * *
The next morning when I pull into the school parking lot, Cammie’s little blue Honda is only a few cars ahead of mine. A day ago I would’ve driven as slow as possible to avoid her, but that was before I talked to Kevin. When I woke up this morning after the first good night of sleep I’ve had in a week, I decided that Hannah has been right this whole time: I do need to talk to Cammie and my mom. I wanted to catch Mom first, but she was already gone by the time I got downstairs. So seeing Cammie like this feels like a sign.
I make a careful note of the row she parks in and pull into the next row over. I scramble to gather up all of my stuff and slam the door behind me, hiking my backpack up onto one shoulder as I power-walk up the row of cars. As soon as Cammie is within earshot, I say, “Hey! Wait up!” and pick up my pace to a jog.
Cammie glances over her shoulder and scowls when she realizes I’m the one who yelled at her, but she doesn’t turn and run. Instead she slows her pace enough for me to catch up to her, and even gives me a few seconds to catch my breath before she says in a cold voice, “What do you want?”
“I wanted to talk to you,” I say, panting a little. “About Jordan.”
She stops short and looks at me. “What about him?”
I hunch over a little and grab at a stitch in my side. “You need to stop this bullshit freezing-him-out thing,” I say. “It’s rude and it hurts him and he didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
Her eyes widen in surprise, then narrow into a glare. “Cute, Amber. Throwing my words back at me. But this isn’t the same thing.”
“Isn’t it?” I ask. “You’re avoiding him because you were so afraid he’d pick me over you after something went wrong with our parents that you didn’t even wait to see what he’d do.”
“That’s not—” she starts.
“Yes, it is,” I say straightening up. “And do you know how I know? Because it’s what I was so worried about before he and I got together. That he’d pick you.” I watch her carefully for a second. “Luckily someone came over and talked some sense into me though. I figured it was time for me to return the favor.”
Cammie doesn’t say a word in response to this, but her face flushes, so I know I’ve made my point.
“Look,” I say, when it becomes clear that she’s going to stay quiet, “I told you the truth that the apartments were my idea because they were. I didn’t know about the house when we went, but it doesn’t matter because I would have wanted to look at other options anyway. For reasons that don’t have anything to do with you or your dad. At least not directly.”
Still, she says nothing. She just lowers her gaze to the ground and fiddles with the strap of her bag.
I study her for a second, and then I take a deep breath and decide to go for broke. “You know what you said in the hall that day? About how it would be nice if we were family for a long time?”
She gives a jerky nod.
“Right, well. I think so too. Just so you know.”
Then I turn and start marching up toward the school without waiting for her to say anything back.
thirty-four
I keep my conversations with Kevin and Cammie to myself for the next two days, because I’m afraid that if I tell anyone I’ll somehow jinx them and the things I said to Kevin and Cammie won’t matter at all.
I also keep quiet because I still have the toughest conversation to go: my mom. I try to catch her after school on Tuesday, but she works late again and I fall asleep before she gets home. On Wednesday she’s gone early in the morning and I have to close at work. But on Thursday night before I leave for Jordan’s and she goes to dinner with Kevin, I finally catch her sitting at the little vanity in the master bathroom. She’s got her makeup done for evening and she’s wearing a dark red dress that is equal parts understated and va-va-voom, but her expression is so uncertain as she studies herself in the mirror that I get another stab of guilt as I watch her.
“Mom?” I say, and she startles and twists to look at me. The dangly earrings she’s got on make little swishing sounds and glitter in the light, adding to the whole effect of her outfit. “Wow. You look amazing.”
Her expression softens and the corners of her mouth tug up in a smile. “Thank you, honey. Are you leaving for Jordan’s now?”
“In a minute,” I say, taking a deep breath, coming further into the room and sitting on the edge of the giant whirlpool tub. “I wanted to talk to you first.”
“Of course. What about?”
“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” I blurt, before I lose my nerve. “About my rules. I never meant to hurt you, and I never thought you’d read them, but I know that’s no excuse so please don’t hate me. You don’t hate me, do you?”
Mom blinks at me in surprise and then gets to her feet in a rush, coming over to sit next to me and looping an arm around my shoulders to pull me close.
“Amber, honey, no. I don’t hate you, and you have nothing to be sorry for. I love you always, forever, no matter what. And I’m sorry. For so many things, but mostly for putting you in situations that led to you needing that list in the first place. I’m not proud of how the choices I’ve made in my love life have affected you, but I’m trying to do better this time. With Kevin.”
“I can tell,” I say. “And I appreciate that.”
She squeezes me even tighter, but after a second she loosens her hold on me and pulls back to study my face. “I’m sorry for going through your desk to get the password that day too. I promise I wasn’t snooping intentionally, but it is your private space and I should have respected that.”
“I know you weren’t.” I sniff, wiping sudden tears off my face. “And just so you know, lately I’m not feeling like I need the rules as much anymore.”
She pulls back so she can peer into my face, and when I smile at her, she smiles back. “You don’t have to get rid of them just because I know about them, you know. They’re pretty good. And funny too. That holiday dinner one is because of Aunt Marin, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, and Mom shudders.
“Ugh, that woman was the worst,” she says, and for the first time in a long time we laugh together. It feels amazingly good.
I get to my feet and take a hesitant step toward the door. “I’d better go. Jordan has something cheesy planned, apparently.”
“
That sounds nice,” Mom says, standing up too and reaching to fiddle with one of her bracelets. “Kevin won’t tell me where we’re going.”
“Don’t worry, you’ll like it.”
She raises her eyebrows at me. “You’re in the loop, huh?”
“She told me where to go,” Kevin says, and both of us turn to find him standing in the doorway. He smiles warmly at me for a brief second before turning his attention to my mom. “Wow. You look fantastic.”
She blushes and ducks her head while I laugh and nudge her with my hip. “See? I told you so.”
“Yes you did,” she says, taking a step toward Kevin. “Have fun tonight, honey,” she adds, glancing back at me. “Be home by ten thirty.”
“Okay,” I say, as Kevin takes her hand and winks at me from the door. They’ve already started out of the room when I say, “Hey, Mom?”
“Hey what?” she says, turning around.
I take a deep breath. “I love you always, forever, no matter what, too. Okay?”
Her eyes are suddenly, suspiciously shiny. But she keeps her voice steady and her smile doesn’t waver when she says, “Okay.”
* * *
Jordan is waiting outside for me when I pull up to the curb in front of his house.
“Hey,” he says, coming out to kiss me as I get out of the car. He pulls back for a second, studying my face. “You look happy.”
“I am,” I say. “It’s been a good day so far.”
“Yeah?” he says, smiling.
“Yeah.”
He bends down and kisses me again, soft and light. “I’ll try to keep the trend going. Come on.”
He leads me up the sidewalk and through the front door. I freeze in the living room, staring around at everything. There are candles burning all over the place and a little table for two is set up in the middle of the room. “Is this for me?”
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