Page 33 of Thanks for the Love
“I’m Kennedy, Reagan’s sister.”
I sit down on a chair and put my hand to my forehead.
“Oh, good. I thought I was finally losing it.”
She laughs. “Trust me, I have that feeling at least once a day. You must be Gabby.”
I nod.
“I’m extremely overprotective of my baby sister, so I forced Reagan to give me the scoop on her new roommates.”
Hmm … I’m not sure how I feel about this girl knowing my life story. But I totally understand her need to protect her sister. She’s probably thinking the same things as my mother, although I doubt she told Reagan to watch that movie about the roommate who goes insane.
“I’m ready,” Reagan calls. She saunters into the kitchen wearing a plunging black sleeveless shirt and black skinny jeans. She looks fantastic.
“Hey, Gabby, I didn’t hear you come in. I assume you met myoldersister Kennedy.”
Kennedy rolls her eyes at the older comment.
“I just did. And I like your names, by the way.”
Reagan nods. “Our parents are very patriotic. Who else would name their daughters after former US presidents?”
I laugh.
“Nice shirt,” Kennedy says, giving her a judgmental look.
Reagan scowls. “Don’t start. I’m not interested in a lecture.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks innocently.
“You obviously don’t like my shirt.”
“Well, it’s practically falling off,” Kennedy points out.
Reagan scoffs. “Are you serious? You’re the queen of slutty clothes.”
“Not anymore,” she says with a shrug.
I stand back and watch the sisters argue about which one is the worse dresser. I have to admit I’m entertained.
“Anyway, we’re going back to Golden tonight,” Reagan says, finally acknowledging that I’m still in the room. “Do you want to come with us?”
Ahh … they’re going to Golden. I’m sure Reagan is hoping to get a few minutes with Chef Dante. And that explains the shirt.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I have a long list of things to do tonight.”
As much as I’d love to be social and have that delicious salmon again, I need to stay home.
Reagan and Kennedy leave a few minutes later, and the house is quiet. I put some pasta in a pot on the stove and head to my room to change.
I manage to dig out a pair of leggings and a white tank top from one of the various piles. Half my clothes are now hanging in the closet, and the remainder are all scattered around the room. I’m usually an organized person, so this mess is really starting to get to me.
I hear my phone ringing from somewhere. Now if only I could find it. I shift a few things on the bed and grab it just in time to answer.
“Hello.”
“Gabby.”
