Page 116 of The Thought of You

“I didn’t want to ring the doorbell in case she’d fallen asleep,” she says and kisses my cheek in greeting.

“How did you know?” I ask as I grab some of the grocery bags from her hands.

“Like I said on the phone, this is not my first time. I’ve seen it all, including sleepwalking and attempting to learn French from the exhaustion and delirium of throwing up. Virus or food poisoning—either way, she’s got to be drained.”

“Should I take her to the doctor?” I ask.

“Her symptoms are consistent with one of the two, and a doctor is only going to tell her to rest, drink water, and eat soup and crackers.” Mom points to the bags. “I brought everything I need to make soup, and there’s a box of saltines in there too. There’s also a small case of water out in my car, if you could please bring it in and set it next to her bed. That way, she won’t have to keep refilling a glass.”

“You are a saint. Thank you so much for this.” I give her another hug, then jog out to her car for the water.

By the time I return to the kitchen, she’s already set a pot on the stove, and she’s measuring out rice for the chicken and rice soup she always used to make us when we were sick.

Addie is definitely in good hands, and some of my earlier guilt dissipates.

“I’ll come back in a few hours to clean up in here, so don’t worry about any of that,” I say. “Just keep an eye on her, please.”

“I’ve got it from here, son.” She gives me a warm smile as she rounds the counter to give me another kiss on the cheek. “We still need to have our chat too.”

“Right after you tell me who tried to learn French,” I tease.

She winks, and I thank her again as I back away toward the front door.

Outside, I race down the porch steps but stop. Scarlett freezes practically mid-jog and stares, her mouth wide enough to fit half a cheeseburger. I almost don’t recognize her with her hair piled underneath a ballcap and not a stitch of makeup on. She usually works the Tap like she’s ready for her closeup on camera.

She yanks her earbuds out. “What are you doing?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Scarlett points a long finger to the house next door. “That’s where I live. Your turn.” Her eyes widen. “Wait. Are you here to finally off Addie?”

“What? No. We’re not…” I clear my throat. We’re pretending. Addie and I are still pretending, and that includes lying to Scarlett, or at least treading the fine line of the truth with vague answers. “We don’t even hate each other that much.”

She twists her lips. “Over the summer, you tried proving she’s European and living in this country illegally just so you could get her deported.”

“She’d somehow convinced Kenny to replace Sunday specials from the good beers to some bullshit light IPA.” I scoff and meet her on the sidewalk.

“Seems like an appropriate response to such a travesty,” she deadpans.

“Addie’s done and said a lot worse,” I say with a snort.

“Oh, for sure. The latest being how badly she wants to chop off your microscopic balls and feed them to you like M&Ms.”

I lift a brow. “What did I do to earn such cruelty?”

Scarlett shrugs. “Just a typical Tuesday afternoon, which is why I’m still not convinced you’re not here to bury her body and clean up after yourself.” She points to the minivan in Addie’s driveway. “Why else would you bring such a hideous monstrosity? It must be filled with bleach and body bags.”

“That’s my mom’s.”

“You called your mom for murder cleanup?”

“You listen to too many true crime podcasts,” I shoot back. “Shouldn’t you be at the Tap? It’s happy hour.”

“Exactly.” She rolls her eyes. “I needed to get away from David’s impatience and Lisa’s whining over her less than stellar cocktail that ‘tastes like a toddler mixed it,’” she grumbles, tossing up air quotes. Guess it’s a common complaint from the Tap’s resident high-maintenance cougar. “Plus, Kenny’s had a stick up his ass for two weeks now, and I can only take so much. I asked off and didn’t really wait for an answer.”

“Smooth.”

“Gotta go after what you want, Conrad,” she says with a shrug as she walks backward toward her house.

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