Page 2 of The Off-Limits Rule: Extended Edition

The day I realized I was a week late for my period, Drew was the one who drove to the store and bought my pregnancy test. He’s the one who held me when I cried and told me that if I wanted to keep the baby, I wouldn’t have to go it alone because I’d have him (and then my parents quickly hip-checked him out of the way and reminded me I’d have them too). This is part of the reason I moved to Atlanta a year ago—not because I wanted to get away from them but because I wanted to prove to myself I could stand on my own two feet and support my son.

Spoiler alert: I can’t.

I’m a twenty-nine-year-old single mom and unemployed hairdresser (I got fired from the salon I was working at) who’s having to live with my older brother because I don’t have a penny in savings. Turns out, kids are mega-expensive. And when you choose to live away from your support system as a single parent, you have to put your child in daycare (which costs your arm) and hire babysitters when you want to go out on the weekend (which costs your leg), or hire a full-time nanny (which costs your soul).

Although Levi’s dad, Brent, pays child support, it’s just not quite enough to help me get ahead of bills and debt. Brent is not a bad guy or anything, and he’s even offered to pay extra to help give me a financial cushion, but for some reason I’d rather start wearing tennis shoes without socks and selling them to people on the internet who want themextra sweatybefore I take more money from Brent. He’s always had too much emotional pull in my life. At one point I might have dreamed of us actually becoming a family one day—but not anymore. Those dreams have long since evaporated, and now, anytime he texts me after midnight saying something like,Why don’t we ever get together, just the two of us?,I know better than to respond.

Drew gives me a soft smile and really doesn’t have to say anything because we have that sibling telepathy thing that lets me see inside his head. He speaks anyway. “You’d do the same for me.”

“Yeah. Of course I would.” But I’ll never need to because Drew has his life together one hundred percent of the time.

He pulls me in for a hug. “I’m sorry you’re bummed, but I’m glad you’re home and you and that jackass broke up.”

And just like that, our sibling comradery vanishes and I’d like to kick him in the shins. I settle for pushing out of his hug. “He wasn’t a jackass!”

“Yeah, he was. You just need some space from him to see it.”

“No,Andrew,he just wasn’t smooth andsuper coollike you assume you are, and that’s why you didn’t like him. But he wasn’t a jackass.”

I really don’t know why I’m defending Tim so much. I wasn’t in love with him or anything. In fact, that’s why we broke up. There was no spark, and we were basically friends who kissed (and not all that often). I’d never even introduced him to Levi becausesomewhere in the back of my mind I always knew our relationship wasn’t going anywhere.

I’m a little ashamed to admit it, but I only dated him because he wasthereand available. I was new to Atlanta, having taken an open position at a new salon, and he was one of my first clients. We hit it off, started dating (if you can even call it that since we barely saw each other due to me not having any friends or family around to help babysit), and, for a few months, fell into a comfortable pattern of going out on Saturday nights when I could afford to hire the sixteen-year-old down the street. She had a more active dating life than me, though, so I had to book her weeks out and pay her a fortune.

Then the roommate I moved to Atlanta with got engaged to her boyfriend and asked to break our lease agreement early so she could move in with him. I, being a woman deeply afraid of confrontation, agreed wholeheartedly before remembering that I didn’t trust anyone else to live with me and my son. I tried to make it work financially on my own for a while, but then the burden just got too heavy. I was two months behind on rent, and then I lost my job at the salon because I canceled on too many clients.

Did I mention it’s super hard to be a single parent without a nearby support system? Turns out, most bosses really don’t give a crap about your child at home with a stomach bug and unable to go into daycare. They really only care that you didn’t show up to work and earn them the money they were countingon.

So I got fired, and then the next week Tim and I broke up, andthenI got the official eviction notice from my landlord. I didn’t need any time to think about what to do. I called Drew and told him to come get me, and then I cut Atlanta off like a bad split end.

Now I’m sad, but not because I miss Tim. I’m sad because Idon’tmiss Tim and my life feels like way more of a mess than it should at age twenty-nine. It’s like I’m mourning something I hoped could happen but didn’t.

“No,” says Drew, “I didn’t like him because when I came to visit and the three of us went to dinner, he said he was cold and accepted your sweater when you took it off and gave it to him.”

I feel a familiar defensiveness boil in my chest. “He has athyroid problemand gets cold easily. And I told you, I wasn’t even cold!”

“Then why’d you take my sweatshirt after he took yours?”

“Because…” I drop my gaze, hoping he doesn’t catch my defeated look. “It had been six months since I’d seen you and I missed you?” I can’t let Drew know I also found Tim annoying at times or else he’ll add it to his ongoing list titled Drew Knows Better Than Lucy.It is a solid list, though.

He doesn’t comment on my blatant lie, just lifts an eyebrow and points to the running water. “Stop stalling and take your shower. But make it quick or we’re gonna be late.”

Well, joke’s on him because I don’t even want to go out with him and hisbuddy,and I don’t care one bit if we’re late. In fact, I feel like teaching my brother a lesson, so I turn on some music and take an extra-long time, reenacting every sad shower scene I’ve ever witnessed, letting the spray of the water rush over my face as depressing songs play on the speaker in my bedroom.

Bang, bang, bang.

I jump out of my sopping-wet skin and press myself back against the tile, certain I’m about to be murdered by a polite killer who likes to knock before he enters, but then Drew’s voice booms through the door. “I swear to God, Lucy, I will cut off the hot water if you don’t get out soon. Also, that’s enough SarahMcLachlan.” He turns off my Super Sad Mix and blares “Ice Ice Baby” as an overt threat.

Ah—so nice living together again.

I want to be furious with Drew, but instead I’m using all my willpower to not laugh.

—

I’m a whiny baby all the way to the boat dock.The sun is too bright. My head hurts. There’s nothing good on the radio.Honestly, I’m surprised Drew didn’t unlock the doors, pull the handle, and push me out onto the interstate. That’s what I would have done if the roles were reversed, because even I don’t want to hang out with me right now. Even so, he took my annoyance in stride, turning off the radio, giving me his sunglasses, offering to stop for Advil. Really, it’s suspicious how syrupy sweet my brother is being.

At the last minute, I even asked him if we could make a pit stop at our mom and dad’s house so I could check on Levi. Let’s be honest, Levi is with his two favorite people in the world, so he’s not missing me. My mom has probably fed him so many sugary treats he’s completely forgotten my name.

When the door opens and I see my little cutie, blond hair all askew in various cowlicks, eyes bright with sugar overdose, and white powder mysteriously coating his lips, my suspicions are confirmed.

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