Page 53 of Spring Tide

“Yeah, yeah.” I wave off her concern, mouth curved with a knowing smile. “I’ll play with Bentley and let him out right before bed.”

Her eyes narrow. “I was going to say, so you’ll have the place toyourselves.”

“Oh.” I choke on nothing, sputtering out a mixture of gibberish words before Harper comes to my rescue.

“Thanks, Taylor,” she cuts in, wrapping her arms around my sister. “And thank you again for the risotto. It was the best I’ve ever had.”

My sister cocks an amused brow in my direction. “Of course. You’ll have to come by our parents’ sometime and try the original recipe.”

“I’d love that.”

Taylor grins, her cheeks stretching wide before she traipses out of the kitchen, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. I wince at the heavy sound of her door slamming shut. Now Harper and I stand here alone, facing one another, and something has me feeling slightly unhinged.

“She’ll probably leave in about five minutes. You know, if you want to head out after,” I quietly suggest, gaze flitting to a chipped subway tile behind her head.

“No, thank you.” Her brows knit together. “I’d like to stay and help.”

“You don’t have to. You already spent the last few hours playing house. You know, pretending for my sake.”

She shakes her head, eyes brimming with warmth. “I wasn’t really pretending tonight. Besides, Taylor’s super cool.”

“Okay.” I clear my throat, folding up the sleeves of my button-down. “Let’s get these dishes done, then.”

I move toward the sink, Harper following closely behind. Together, we pile the dirty dishes into one side, filling the other with scalding, bubbling cleanser.

“I’ll wash,” Harper suggests. “You rinse and dry?”

“You got it.”

We pass the first five minutes in comfortable silence, washing and drying like two coworkers fulfilling an assembly line. It’s not long before the front door opens and my sister calls out a quick goodbye. Once we’re alone, Harper decides it’d be a good idea to splash me with dirty sink water.

“Woops,” she murmurs, the sparkle in her eyes spelling mischief.

I set the last two glasses in the drying rack, silently running my hands under the faucet. My palms rub together—once, twice—before I shake off the excess, the wayward droplets flying in Harper’s direction.

She playfully scoffs, gathering up a large scoop of bubbles with both hands. Her hips swivel toward me, palms flattening as she blows them directly into my face.

“Very mature,” I tease with a low chuckle.

“Oh no.” She swipes another handful of bubbles across the bridge of my nose. “I missed a spot.”

“I’d spray you with the faucet, but I wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty dress of yours.”

“A bit of water never hurt anyone.”

I scrub a clean hand towel across my face, clearing up the lingering soap residue. “So you do want me to soak you, then?”

“I’m sure you have something warm I could change into.”

My gaze dips to her mouth, assessing the curve of her tilted smile before flitting back to meet her eyes. There’s an unmistakable curiosity there, as if she’s testing me with her words.

“Harper—”

My phone buzzes loudly on the counter beside us, rattling me out of my daze. A heavy breath heaves from my chest as I slide the device toward me. There are three iMessages waiting, all sent from Giorgie over the past hour—a string of angry emojis followed by a singular snake and clover.

“Do you mind if I call my parents real quick?” I step back from the sink, wiping my palms down the front of my trousers. “My little sister’s sending me some weird messages from her iPad.”

Her smile is soft, gentle as she says, “Not at all.”

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