One Big Mistake: a friends to lovers rom-com

by Whitney Barbetti

  “It’s okay.” She rubbed my arms up and down—soothing me when it should’ve been the other way around. “I should get home, talk to Violet about everything.”

  “Of course. Text me, let me know.”

  “I will.” There was a long pause between us as we looked at one another in the dark. Her eyes were shiny, like they’d been on the verge of tears and she was keeping them at bay. “Thanks, Keane.” The hands that had been rubbing my arms slid up to loop around my neck as she walked into my waiting arms for a hug. She was so small, my arms wrapped entirely around her back. Holding her close like this made me feel a funny little flutter in the pit of my stomach as I breathed in her perfume.

  What the fuck was going on?

  She pressed a small kiss to the side of my neck—a move she’d done at least a hundred times before—but this time was different. It sent a streak of warmth through my chest and I blinked in confusion as I looked out over the top of her head.

  “I love you,” she said. And, again, she’d said those three words to me probably a thousand times but this one hit different. So different, that when I opened my mouth to repeat them back to her, they came out strangled. “I’ll text you,” she said as she pulled away.

  I just stared at her, as if I was eyeing an animal in the wilderness—unsure whether to run or stand my ground. But if my grandpa had taught me anything, it was always to stand your ground. To appear unafraid, unaffected.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, halfway into her car.

  I shook my head, sending the confusion sprawling away. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  “What?”

  I gestured toward her passenger seat. “I’m supposed to steal that shit. Delilah would be disappointed if I didn’t at least attempt it.”

  “I think she’d be more disappointed if you proved her wrong,” she said, with a lift of her eyebrow.

  “Touché.” I closed her door for her, climbed into my car, and followed her to the bank. She waved to me after putting the deposit in the night drop and I flashed my lights back at her in acknowledgement. But I waited in the parking lot for a long while after she left, mulling over the confusion I felt, the confusion I thought I’d banished away. Was I thinking too hard about things? It seemed like every touch, every word, since the night we’d spent together had made me reevaluate everything. I was looking deeper into her gestures of affection—wondering if they were the just friends variety or the something more variety. But even more confusing than my confusion was the fact that I hoped those gestures, those words, were the latter. Something more.

  14

  NAVY

  “What if I put pink shit everywhere? Will he boot me out?”

  “No,” I told her, the following morning after we’d talked. The twins had spent Monday night with a friend—this time encouraged by me. They didn’t know Violet was at our aunt’s house yet, and that was for the better. I didn’t want to intentionally keep them apart, but Rose and Jade were young in the ways that mattered in this situation. There was no telling who they might blab to, what they might post on social media. Eventually, things might come to a head with the ex-boyfriend—that part was inevitable, since Violet was carrying a child that was biologically his—but we didn’t need to invite his attention too soon.

  “How do you know?”

  I sighed, packing the last of the clothes I’d picked up for her into a suitcase. “Because I know him. Keane doesn’t see pink and instantly recoil in fear. He’s a big boy.” Though Violet had quickly agreed to the arrangement that Keane had proposed, that didn’t make me feel any less unsettled. While part of me was relieved that she was excited about it, and that this would buy us more time to tell the aunt and the twins, I was also worried. She’d been gone for two years—except for the occasional visit—and though it had barely been twenty-four hours since she’d arrived, I was already feeling that deep attachment to her, that need to care for my sister like I had all throughout our childhood.

  “We need to figure out doctor appointments for you next,” I told her, zipping the duffel bag I’d let her borrow. “Do you know what you’re having?” I glanced at her stomach, still finding it hard to fathom that my little sister was about to be in charge of a much tinier human. It was hard to look at Violet and not see the sidekick I’d grown up with, the girl who had begged me to paint her nails.

  Violet turned her head down as her hands grazed over her belly. “I don’t. I haven’t had any doctor appointments. I don’t think I’m far enough along to know the sex.”

  “No appointments?” It was hard for me to believe she hadn’t gone to a clinic to even confirm the pregnancy.

  “I didn’t realize I was pregnant until a couple weeks ago.” She lifted her head and brushed the blonde from her face. “But it’s been a while since I had a period.”

  “You can’t remember when?”

  She shook her head slowly, gauging my reaction to that news. I wasn’t going to lecture her on tracking her periods. I didn’t know what she’d been through; it wasn’t my place to judge or lecture.

  “I’m sure they can figure that out by measuring,” I said, but I wasn’t sure. I’d been a child the last time I’d been around any pregnant person—our mother—and any knowledge I’d gleaned from health classes failed me now.

  “The baby likes the ukulele.” She nodded her head toward the tiny instrument she’d packed in her bag. “Maybe they’ll have talents like the rest of our family.” As soon as the words slipped from her mouth, she gave me a grimace. “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I like music, you know. I just can’t play it.” It was a big thing in our family—the fact that I was the only child of our parents who hadn’t take up an instrument the way our parents had. The truth was that I didn’t want to play an instrument. I came from parents who had chosen a roadie life over their family and even with the influences of the other music lovers in my family, I’d never found love for instruments myself. I could play. But I chose not to. Not because of my mother. But in spite of her.

  Still talentless?

  It was an echo in my head, two words from my mother that had cut me in half when I was only nine. At my expression, she’d quickly followed it up with you know I’m only kidding. But she wasn’t. My mother prided herself on producing three daughters who had a natural gift with instruments and/or singing. But, unlike my sisters, I had memories of mom and dad being gone until two or three in the morning after being at a concert, when they’d left us all alone because—in their words—we were asleep, anyway. I may have inherited talent, but if I did, I chose not to nurture it. It was the only way I could retaliate against the people who’d abandoned me and my sisters. Somehow, producing a talentless child was more disgraceful than abandoning one—or four.

  Keane texted me, letting me know he was on the way, and we carried Violet’s bags downstairs. It was strangely reminiscent of when she’d moved away to California to pursue a modeling career years before, but at least this time she was closer.

  “Don’t feel like you have to say yes to this,” I reminded her as I handed her a water bottle. “I haven’t seen the cabin except for some photos, so I don’t know what it’s like out there.”

  “Unless it’s a windowless shack, I’m sure it’ll be fine.” She took a long drink as she looked around the living room. “Auntie hasn’t changed it much over the years, has she?”

  I eyed the tapestries our aunt had hung up a dozen years before and hadn’t removed. “This makes her happy,” I said with a shrug.

  “I hope she gets some dick in Greece.”

  “Violet.”

  “What?” she laughed and took another swallow. “She spent part of her twenties and all of her thirties raising four kids. She could use some dick.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think she’s going there for that purpose. She could get that anywhere.”

  Violet snorted. “In Amber Lake? It’s a college town. Unless Auntie’s prowling the fraternities, she’s probably not
going to find a whole hell of a lot.” It was a funny thought. Our aunt had never married, choosing to raise her only sister’s children instead of starting a family for herself. She’d been more like a mom than mine—from the love to the discipline to the beliefs she’d instilled in me. In some ways, I felt guilt for that. Though it had been her choice ultimately, sometimes I worried that she’d given up too much for us. If she wanted some Greek dick, I supposed I hoped she got some.

  Violet plopped onto the couch that overlooked the front yard, the whooshing sounds of her many layers making her sound like a parachute crumbling on the ground.

  Like me, Violet had warm, tanned skin. Which was why the obvious mustard-colored foundation on her face stood out like a sore thumb. When it had been just her and I the night before, she hadn’t bothered hiding her face or her belly. But even though she knew that I’d told Keane what had happened, she felt the need to cover herself up again with the baggy clothes and makeup. Violet was always the more girly sister—I mean, she knew makeup like it was her job. She was the dreamer of the two of us, the more romantic, more emotional, funnier one.

  But right now, she was visibly anxious, her boot-clad foot tapping on the floor as she peered out the window. But from the small smile that appeared on her lips, I could tell the anxiety wasn’t from nerves or worries but from excitement. She was always more of a free spirit than me, so maybe this felt like an adventure for her. Or, maybe she was excited to get out from under my worried gaze. I wished I could look at her like she was just my little sister, but she was so much more than that. She’d returned from L.A. a different person; someone I didn’t wholly recognize. In many ways, it was like I was learning about her all over again. She hadn’t cried since the morning before and by all accounts, she appeared stronger than I probably would’ve been, if I were in her shoes.

  It would be hard to leave her at the cabin, I knew. To not constantly have her within arm’s reach or even a quick drive away. The cabin wasn’t as far as L.A., but suddenly it felt too far.

  I wanted to ask her if she planned on pressing charges, to tell her we should take photos of her bruises and injuries as evidence if we needed them in the future. I wanted to talk to her about getting a job, and what jobs between waiting tables she’d had in L.A. so I could start building her a resume.

  I was a fixer. That’s what my friends always said about me. It was my very nature to nurture and protect, to help heal what I could. But I had to mute my natural inclinations because I knew jumping into the questions and a plan of action with Violet wouldn’t work. She didn’t need action; she needed space. She needed space from me.

  I grabbed the bags I’d picked up from the grocery store the night before. Basic groceries like her favorite sugary cereals and snacks and a few fridge items. We’d gotten her set up on a cell phone, but I didn’t know what the service would be out at the cabin, so I needed to talk to Keane about setting up internet service.

  “What are those?”

  “If you decide to stay up at the cabin tonight, you’ll need a few things.” In another bag was a bed-in-a-bag set. Keane told me there was a queen bed in the larger of two bedrooms, but no laundry on-site, so I’d picked up an extra few changes of clothes and some baby books from the department store, too. It didn’t matter that the cabin was forty-five minutes away, I knew I’d be up there every day until I felt confident in Violet’s safety and stability. It would be difficult to juggle the twins, the store, and the couple hours every day that I went up to the cabin, but I’d make it work.

  “He’s here,” Violet called as she slid off the couch. The front door opened as it always did when he came over. My aunt had long ago told him never to knock again—he was family. Keane stepped inside and within seconds of his entrance, Violet had leapt into his arms like she always belonged there.

  “Hey, buttmunch,” he said to her, a nickname he’d given her when she was half the age she was now.

  “Hey, butthole.”

  Keane smiled at me over her head and oh—why did it make my heart ache so much? His arms were much longer, much bigger, than her. He appeared to be at least three times her size and seeing him hold her like that made me remember Violet as a young girl. When she was less troubled and experiencing fewer hardships than she faced now.

  “Hey, you’re a big girl now. Which means you can use big words like ‘asshole’ instead.”

  “Thanks for the permission, Dad.” She stepped out his arms. “I mean, asshole.”

  He grinned down at her. “And since you’re a big girl, I can call you assmunch now.”

  “It doesn’t sound as fun as asshole does, but I’ll take it.”

  This was the Violet I knew. I’d nearly gasped from seeing her meld back into my fun-loving and funny little sister. Not the quiet, guarded shell of who she’d become during her absence from us all. “You ready?” Keane asked us both, his eyes light and his smile easy, a smile that Violet readily echoed. I understood, because a hug, a smile, from Keane felt absolutely soul settling.

  He had the kind of arms that could wrap you up and make you forget all your woes. The kind of eyes that wouldn’t tell you a lie. And the kind of smile, when it was aimed at you, that made it so terribly easy to fall in love.

  Or maybe that was just me. Hell, I’d been joking when I’d told myself that any of this would be easy. My feelings for him had never died off, had never weakened. They still had the power to pour through me and flood all rational thought.

  But I had to play it cool. Be the friend to him that we’d agreed years before.

  Before I could pick up the remaining bags I’d collected, Keane swooped them up. “Let me help,” he said, meaningfully, taking them and then the bed-in-a-bag and grocery bags from my hands. He popped a casual kiss to the top of my head and Violet followed him out the front door, happily chatting his ear off.

  And somehow, I hadn’t moved an inch from my spot since the moment he’d come in. I just stared after them both, wondering what the hell he’d just done to my heart.

  “So, this is it.” Keane gestured with his arms wide at the postage stamp of a living/dining/kitchen area.

  Violet walked around, looking in the cabinets and under them.

  Keane and I exchanged a look, but since Violet hadn’t said a word, I couldn’t figure her out. Needing to occupy my brain with something other than worry, I walked to the square window that overlooked the lake. It wasn’t the biggest lake in the region, but it was respectable—with a dozen or so houses that bordered it. Most of the houses were cabins no bigger than this one, so it was likely they were all vacation rentals as this one had been. I picked at the paint around the window trim that had adhered to the glass, thinking that the cabin was small, but completely cozy.

  “I love it,” Violet said, surprising me. I turned around, met Keane’s eyes again before looking at Violet. “It’s just so cute.”

  “Cute?” Keane said, as if the word was foreign to him. He put his hands on his hips and looked around. I knew the cabin had been a hunting and fishing one for Keane and his grandpa, so he probably saw memories when he studied the worn, seventies-era couch and handmade coffee table that he’d carved his name into. “I mean, I guess.”

  “It is cute.” Violet nodded, her blonde hair bobbing around her shoulders. “It’s quiet out here.” She gripped the edge of the kitchen sink and peered out the window that shared the same view as the one I looked out of. “I think it’s wonderful.”

  “Oh, good.” Keane nodded as if he was relieved. “The fridge freezes anything on the top shelf, but the plan is to replace that, eventually. And the stove—” he flipped the switches for each burner. “This one, this one, and this one, well, they don’t work.” He half laughed, half coughed at that and switched them back off. “So, you’ve got one burner. But it’s gas, so don’t blow the place up.”

  “It’s okay.” Violet patted the top of the microwave shoved on the counter between the coffeemaker and the fridge. “I do a lot of microwaving. Not muc
h of a cook.”

  “I’d bring you food anyway. You could just warm it up.”

  “See?” Violet said with a small smile. “Perfect.”

  “The bathroom all works, but it’s well water here and it might smell a little funky at first.” We walked into the bathroom and he lifted the toilet seat. “It’s stained from the well water, so that’ll get replaced eventually too. But it’s obviously not as necessary as a stove with four working burners.” He flushed the toilet and it gurgled for a moment before going down. “Just be mindful of the septic system—the toilet can’t be treated like a trash can, so no big wads of toilet paper, paper towels, cigarettes, or tampons.”

  Violet wrapped her arms around her barely there belly and rocked back on her heels. “Pretty sure those last two won’t be an issue.”

  For the first time since he’d seen her, he looked at her stomach. Granted, Violet had been covered up in oversized clothing, but when she turned just right, you could see the slight curve of her stomach. “Right. Sorry, I forgot.”

  “How hot does the water get?” she asked, flipping the faucet on the sink on.

  “Pretty hot, actually. Gramps had to have a good water heater out there. Nothing like a scalding shower after a day of ice fishing. But it usually takes a minute or two to get hot.”

  “Perfect.” She switched it off and moseyed back out to the living area. “You sure you’re okay with me staying here?”

  “Yeah. The mattress is new—I bought it in advance of starting the renovations.”

  Violet sat down on the couch, bouncing on the cushions for a moment. “I don’t mind the couch. It’s comfy.”

  “You’ll take the bed,” Keane said, as if there wasn’t an argument to be had about it. “I spent much of my childhood on this couch, and besides I’ll likely be up early every morning working on the house. You’ll get better sleep in the back bedroom.”