Page 22 of Sweet Twins For My Brother's Best Friend

“But we won’t worry about it – because he never will.”

I wave and dip my head to pop inside the car. Standing at 5’9, getting into most cars is a head wound waiting to happen, and this one’s no different.

Hitting my head on the roofline of this car enough times has trained me to bend down when getting in and it’s become my version of Pavlov’s whistle.

I could go back and do some work, but I’ve been trying to be better at asserting work/home life boundaries lately, and it’s Sunday. It’s the day of rest.

I drop off Lucy at the office. She runs to her food bowl and gives me a look of confused misery as I head to the door to leave, butI tell her, “No, don’t. I saw Mom sneak you all that rotisserie chicken. You’re not getting anything else right now.”

There’s still daylight left, and I want to get to the bookstore, so I can spend some time in the office supply section first before buying a book from the clearance section.

I do just that, ordering a latte, then heading straight for the office supplies section where I stare at calendars and budgeting books and pens. They are my weakness, all the soft pink pens and post it notes.

A woman a few feet down the aisle from me strongly considers a leather bound journal with a ribbon for saving her place. She finally chooses it, tucking it under her arm in a signal of finality, then considers getting a second one in a lighter leather.

A flash of jealousy surges through me; that she can affordtwoof these ridiculously priced journals. I let the feeling sink me for a moment before swimming my way out of it.

It isn’t her fault that she’s everythingng I’m not. She has no idea that I’m watching her and thinking about all the ways she’s better than I am.

Her wavy brown locks cascade down her back like the side of a mountain. Her shorter stature allows her to wear a little, yellow sundress that doesn’t expose her entire butt to the world.

I sigh and put away the multipack of post it notes in my hand.

It would be a ridiculous purchase anyway, and if I get those, then I can’t afford a book later.

I know I’ll get more enjoyment out of a book, so I’ll prioritize and wait. My little exhale gets the attention of the woman, and she glances at me.

My blood runs cold, and I feel my eyes widen without my permission.

“Are you okay? You look terrified,” she says with a nervous laugh, her eyebrows leaning into each other in her confusion.

Terrified isn’t the right word. I’m sure I’m looking at Julie for the first time in five years. I blurt out, “Don’t you live somewhere else now?”

She cocks her head and turns slightly toward me, although her feet stay facing forward. She doesn’t want to be in this conversation. “Do I know you?”

“Well, I was younger, but yes, I’m Hannah.” She looks somewhat confused and I then realize that she never really met me.

“Sorry, I’m Tyler Jackson’s younger sister.” When her face doesn’t move, I jut out my chin. “Tyler. As in Chris’ college roommate?”

“Oh!”

She knocks her forehead with the heel of her hand in an overdramatic gesture. “Duh! Hannah, hi. How are you?”

The confusion on her face has melted into stiff condescension. She didn’t just leave Chris, apparently, but all of us. I’m reminded of the cruelty Chris described, and I see it on her face now.

“I’m fine…what are you doing back here?” I ask warily.

“I got a new job out here, so I moved back.”

She smiles and spreads out her hands, her elbow still tucked in holding the leather book, like it’s good news that she’s back, as if any of us would welcome her back.

I think she expects me to congratulate her, but I couldn’t if I wanted to. I feel sick for Chris suddenly, my stomach churning at her words.

“How’s Chris?” she asks me.

“He’s good.” I feel a blush spread across my cheeks. I want desperately to push it down but that only makes matters worse.

“Do you talk to him at all?”

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