Me: Oh, no doubt about that. He’s a total Bro. With a capital B. Way too cool for me, I’m afraid… I didn’t agree to this life.
Nova: You did the second you signed that lease.
Me: Can I be traded?
Nova: Nope.
I flop back onto my bed and sigh loud enough for the gods to hear. Cash is still home and out in the living room yelling at a video game. From the sound of it, he's losing…
Me: Switching gears. What are you and Luca doing tonight?
Nova: He’s making dinner and we’re going to watch a movie. He’s obsessed with the skyline so his new thing is staying home…
Me: Awww. Love that for you.
And I do.
I genuinely, one-hundred percent, whole-heartedly love that for her. Mostly because it means one of us is thriving. And because I like knowing that Luca—Luca freaking Babineaux—has a new favorite hobby and that hobby is cooking and cuddling.
And, of course—having sex.
They have tons of it and if I’m being honest, I’m the teeny, tiniest, little bit jealous. And by a little bit I mean: A TON. But make no mistake: this jealousy isn’t toxic or sharp—it’s wistful. Like watching someone else get the exact life you didn’t know you wanted until it was too late to sign up for it.
Nova: Yeah—it has been nice. He’s adorable.
Of course he is. Big, broody, hockey-playing Luca is a secret mush ball. I should’ve known. All that angst had to be covering ooey gooey layers.
I lay, staring at my ceiling fan, finally realizing how nice it would be to have someone who cooks for youjust because. Someone who kisses your forehead instead of your neck sometimes. Someone who puts the leftovers in cute little containers and labels them to make lunch easier.
Me: I used to think I loved the chaos. Loud music, guys who were emotionally unavailable, with leather furniture in their shithole apartments who never did laundry.
Nova: Remember that guy you dated with the pet snake named Linda?
Howdareshe remind me?
Me: Now I want a guy who has a Costco membership and knows what kind of hummus I like. Do you think I’m growing up or just tired?
Nova: Both LOL
I smile, pulling my knees to my chest and letting her words settle in. Whynotboth?
Me: Anyway. I’m gonna get back to unpacking, I guess. There are some boxes in the garage still and the last thing I want is for either of these guys to get irritated that my shit is everywhere.
Nova: I highly doubt either of them would notice unless your boxes were literally blocking the fridge or the TV. Lmk if you need help organizing tomorrow. I’ll bring coffee!
I toss my phone beside me and breathe in deep. It still smells like cardboard and someone else’s air freshener in here. Like a space I’m borrowing instead of living in.
But for now, it’s mine.
Mine to unpack.
Mine to survive.
Mine tothrivein.
turner
. . .
