And it doesn’t matter that the list of people who love me is relatively short and consists solely of my roommates and my baby brother. Doesn’t matter. I’ll do whatever it takes to show Willa that I’m worthy of being Rose’s dad, that she was right to place her trust in me. Because I get it—coming here tonight, bringing Rose? That was a huge deal, and I don’t take it lightly.
Whit’s phone dings and the sound gets me out of my own head for a minute. “That Jase from the lacrosse house?”
He shakes his head. “Nope. Lucy.”
I can’t help it. I crack up. “What’s your stepsister texting you for? She need a copy of your family tree?”
He flips me off. “No, asshole. She wants to know what to get my mom for her birthday next week. Because of course she does.”
I just look at him. “Uh...what? How is it bad that she’s asking for ideas for a gift for your mom? I know Lucy drives you nuts, Whit, but I think this one is on you.”
“No, it’s not. It’s on her. You know why she’s asking me, don’t you?”
Again, I stare blankly at my friend. “Because your mom’s birthday is next week?”
“No. That’s what she wants me to think. But I’m onto her shit. She’s trying to one-up me. She knows full fucking well I haven’t gotten my mom a gift yet. She knows I’ll stop on the way to my mom’s birthday dinner to buy said gift. She’s asking just so she looks good.Oh, look at me, my name’s Lucy, and I always plan ahead, and I’m never unprepared, and I’m soooo together.”
“You’re putting a lot of thought into this, Whit. Granted, I haven’t seen Lucy in a couple years, but I don’t recall her being quite that evil.”
“Of course you don’t because that’s what she wants you to believe. She presents this flawless, sweet front to the whole world, but trust me, that woman has no soul.”
“Noted,” I say. “So... What are you gonna tell her?”
He hangs his head. “No clue. I’m fucked either way. If I give her a list of stuff my mom would actually like, she’ll buy everything on it and then I won’t have anything original to get. But if I lie and tell her to get something weird, like a shower curtain liner or a mailbox cover, then my mom gets a stupid gift.”
He’s got a point. “You know what? You should tell her to get your mom a gift certificate for a spa or something. Like, for a pedicure or a massage. Then they could go together and have a nice day, considering your mom is now Lucy’s stepmom.”
Whit just looks at me.
“What?” I ask. “It’s a good idea.”
“It’s a fucking great idea. And I’m taking credit for it,” he tells me, tapping out a text on his phone. I laugh as I head upstairs, glad I could be useful to someone tonight. Because when I walk into my empty room, I’m greeted by the faint scent of that cherry blossom perfume I’m damn near obsessed with, and that little plastic ring of keys Rose was playing with earlier.
I fall into bed, twirling the plastic keys on one finger, and shoot off a text.
Knox:Missing something?
Willa:Oh, thanks. I was looking for those.
Knox:Does she need them now? I can run them over.
And yea, I’m desperate for an excuse to see my girls again, so sue me. Even I know it’s highly unlikely that my nine-month-old daughter can’t fall asleep without a set of plastic keys, but I’ll grab my actual keys and haul ass to Ian’s if that’s the case.
A minute later, a picture of a sleeping Rose comes through my phone.
Willa: She’s good. I can get them sometime this week, if that’s ok?
Knox:I can bring them over.
Willa: That's not necessary. She has other toys.
Knox:Please? Tomorrow night? I’ll bring dinner.
Willa:I work tomorrow until close. She’s asleep when I get home.
Knox:Yea. No problem. Another time, then. I loved hanging out with you both tonight. I want to do it again soon.
I’m begging for scraps, and it sucks.
