"You mean Justine?" I shook my head. "Actually, she's staying in the dorms. And it's not to party. If she wantedthat, she could do it at home." I tried to look on the bright side. "But shedidsay she'll be home on Christmas Eve and probably stay the night. That's whenI'llgo home, too."
"To visit?"
"Well, yeah…but also to make sure she's not dealing with it on her own."
"It?" His eyebrows drew together. "What do you mean?"
"Well that's the thing," I said. "I never know what 'it' will be. Sometimes, it's a bad breakup with lots of yelling. Other times, it's a house packed with strangers or justonestranger in a Speedo." I forced a smile. "And to be fair, sometimes, it's not so bad. But whatever it is – goodorbad – I don't want Justine to be facing it alone."
"And yourothersister?"
"Regina?" I smiled. "She just graduated from nursing school – earlier this month, in fact. She moved out just a few weeks ago, which is why I was able to pet sit."
His face registered confusion. "I don't see the connection."
"I just mean, if she were still living at home, I'd probably stay, too. You know, to keep her company."
He studied my face. "And to deal with the craziness."
"Well, sure, that's part of it. I mean, nobody likes to feel outnumbered, right?"
His mouth tightened. "You shouldn't have to feel outnumbered in your own house."
"Yeah, but it'snotmy house." I forced a laugh. "Technically, it's not a house at all. It's part of a house – the lower half of a duplex. But we've been renting it forever, so that's nice at least."
Judging from Drake's expression, he didn't see anything "nice" about it.
And now I felt foolish. Trying not to cringe, I asked, "That's probably more than you wanted to know, huh?"
He shook his head. "That's not what's bothering me."
"So, what is?"
"It's the thought ofyoudealing with that mess."
"It's notalwaysa mess," I said. "Sometimes it's kind of nice. Even my mom, she's really fun. If you met her, you'd probably like her. Everyone does." I hesitated. "At least in the beginning."
When Drake's only reply was a serious look, I figured he'd heard more than enough. "Anyway, that's the story. Andnowwe can change the subject." I glanced toward the window. "I mean there's always the weather."
"Forget the weather," he said. "And instead ofchangingthe subject, how about a natural transition?"
I gave him a perplexed look. "Sorry, I don't know what that means."
"Well,yousaid that if I met your mom, I'd probably like her."
"Yeah?"
"So let's say I wanted to transition the conversation naturally, I might say something related."
"Like what?" I asked.
"How about this?" His gaze warmed. "You wanna know whoIreally like?"
Now, I wanted to smile for real. "Who?"
His voice was nearly a caress. "You."
My pulse quickened.Wow, that was quite a transition. Now, as that single word lingered between us, it felt like all of the air had been sucked out of the room, leaving me just a little bit breathless.
