Page 89 of Butter My Biscuit

“She was at our parents’ house when he helped me move in. Did he not tell you?”

I shake my head.

“You didn’t hear it from me,” she says, then goes back to her puzzle. “I would give you a hug, but I’m not really a hugger.”

“Thanks. It’s the thought that counts.” I dig my phone from my pocket and open my last text thread with him. Then, I type a message.

Grace

Are you and Stephanie trying to work things out?

I stare at the blinking cursor, taunting me before I press Send. Then, I shake my head, feeling like a jealous ex, and delete it.

It’s not my damn business either.

This is why he has those rules in place with his one-night stands. I should’ve followed his playbook and been adamant about only doing it once. But … it was too good.

I type another message.

Grace

Hey! Whatcha doin’?

His text bubble pops up.

Harrison

About to eat lunch.

Grace

Yeah? Want me to join you?

Harrison

Actually, I’m out with someone right now. What about supper?

I stare at his last message, knowing he could be with anyone, but in my heart of hearts, I know he’s with her.

For as long as I can remember, we’ve had a pact that we’ll support whoever the other is with. No matter what. And he’s done that for me over the years without complaint. I’m not experienced in this because of his no-commitment rule, so keeping my end of the bargain throughout our twenties has been easy. I have a feeling it’s going to get hard.

So, I do what I always do when I get stressed. I pull supplies out from the cabinet under the sink.

“Where are you going?” Remi asks as I clank the plastic bucket against the bar.

“To scrub a tub.”

She smiles. “You clean when you’re upset.”

“Not all the time,” I explain.

“I’ve won the roommate lottery!” She pumps her fist in the air.

“Lucky you!” I tell her as I walk away, needing the distraction so bad that it nearly hurts.

Before I get started, I change into some shorts and a tank top so my clothes don’t get soaked. Then, I grab my headphones, put my hair up into a high ponytail, and then slide on my pink rubber gloves.

As I study the tub, I try to remember the last time I’ve felt this way. I’m not sure I ever have. I can’t explain it.

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