Mom and Gram have insisted I stay out of the kitchen, like I’m some kind of visiting royalty, and he finds me reading in the living room.
“Hey, geek-o,” he teases and gives a me a brotherly punch in the arm. “About time you came home. You better not have eaten all the cookies.”
“Ha-ha,” I say.
He plops down on the couch and sprawls out his long legs in front of him. “Glad you’re back. We miss you around here.”
“You just miss having someone to bug,” I tease. Heaven knows he did enough of that when we were growing up.
“There is that. Seriously, though, you know we’re all proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Sam is such a good bro. We had our share of fights when we were kids, but he also got me through algebra, helped me practice for my driving test when I was sixteen, and always bought me romance novels for Christmas and my birthday. And, of course, bought copies of my books. He’s a good guy. Way too good for Gwendolyn.
He clears his throat, a sure sign that he’s about to step into an awkward conversation. “Look, I’m sorry about—”
I cut him off. “Don’t even say the name.”
“He didn’t deserve you.”
“You’re right,” I say and mean it. “But hey, New York’s a big place. I’ll find my perfect match.” Just not under the mistletoe.
“New York isn’t the only place with men, you know.”
“I know.”
“Lots of men around here.”
I think of Carwyn. There’s an impossible dream.
“Just sayin’. You could move back.”
“Maybe someday,” I say. Except I don’t see that happening. New York is where my friends are. It’s where I found myself.
Sam nods. Topic closed. “Guess you heard about Gwendolyn and me.”
I try not to wrinkle my nose. “Yeah, that was a surprise.”
“Ran into her at Pete’s Pizza and we got to shooting some pool and”—he shrugged—“it just exploded from there. She’d broken up with that tool Denny Morris and needed comforting.”
Reptiles need comforting? Who knew?
“You remember her, right?”
Do I ever? I remember her and her mean girlfriends hovering over me in the girls’ bathroom, pointing out the big zit on my nose.
“Can you see it with your glasses on?”she’d teased, and they’d all laughed.
I could see it just fine. I could also see what a bucket of barf she and her friends were.
“I remember her,” I say. I’m sure Sam’s hoping I’ll add something positive about the woman, but I can’t.
Maybe she’s changed.
Just like a leopard changes its spots.
“She’s pumped to see you,” says Sam.
