Falling For Raine (Ch. 24: Erin)

Okay, so I’m wrong. I did sleep. More or less. Hopefully I stayed in my lane this time, no matter where my dreams went, and Wow did they go places! I can’t tell for sure because when I woke up, Savannah was already gone. She did leave a note though, which I see on the nightstand once I sit up. Unfolding it, I run my fingers through my bedhead while I glance over the unmistakable handwriting.

Hey Beautiful! Come downstairs whenever you like. Coffee and tea will be waiting. Bathroom’s all ready for you if you want a shower first.

C’ya soonest!

And she signed it with a swoopy S and a little heart. I have to remind myself this is just Savannah being her normal, sweet self and also pretending to be my girlfriend. Last night’s kiss doesn’t have anything to do with her leaving me cute notes with little hearts. That kiss was a mistake and we’re big girls who can put it behind us and move on.

But sweet Jesus! Mistake or not, I’m still feeling the echo in my fun parts and that’s precisely why it can’t happen again. I know Savannah isn’t trying to mess with me—she doesn’t have a manipulative bone in her body—and that’s just what makes this situation so dangerous. There’s nothing more irresistible than an authentically generous, loving, sweet, sincere, sexy…

Crap! There I go again. My lobster brain is a fucking traitor.

It’s time for a shower. Caffeine can wait. I wonder if the cold shower trick really works? I’ve never taken one. Maybe I should start…

♦ ♦ ♦

Of course, I don’t start. I chicken out as soon as I put my arm in the cold water. Adjusting the temp, I peel off my t-shirt and sleep shorts and step in. Steam wraps around me, but I don’t find its embrace all that soothing. Ever since that night at Indigo Visions, showers have taken on a new meaning for me and with that echo still reverberating south of my belly button, this isn’t the most comfortable situation. My shower at Casey’s place is one thing—a shower in Savannah’s mom’s house is completely different.

Sure, tell my aching bits that. But I can cope—it’s only a few days. Our cockamamie plan isn’t for any longer than that. Yeah—cockamamie. My parents loved that word and I feel an obligation to keep it alive; it also describes this situation perfectly. I didn’t think of an endgame when I proposed this to Savannah and we haven’t brought that up yet and it’s a problem. I assumed I’d fly out, meet her family, then we’d make our excuses and I’d fly back.

But now, to say I didn’t think this through—that I haven’t been thinking anything through—is the understatement of the new millennium. I need to call Casey and I need to talk to Savannah alone so we can sort this mess out. It’s 8:30 here, meaning it’s 5:30 on the west coast—thank god for time zones!—which gives me an hour before I call.

God knows what she’s thinking…

Scratch that. I can guess precisely what she’s thinking.

Shutting off the water, I step out and grab a towel to begin drying my hair. This is gonna be a day.

♦ ♦ ♦

Dressed in black yoga pants, a loose tank and one of my comfiest sweaters, I step into the hall outside Savannah’s room and head for the stairs, then stop when I hear voices. Savannah and her sister are in the kitchen or the breakfast nook, and my pulse shoots up at what Jessie is saying.

“You’re not gonna pull some silly shit like running off again, are you?”

“For eff’s sake, Jess. Of course, I’m not. Y’know I’m gonna stay as long as Mom needs me.”

“What about your girlfriend? Is she gonna stay with you?”

“We haven’t talked yet.” The strain in Savannah’s voice is clear as day. “I don’t think she can just like up and stay here. She has a job.”

“Well, duh. Of course, she has a job. But you said she’s a tech person. Don’t all tech people work remotely these days?”

“I dunno. She has lots of meetings and stuff. She works all the time. It’s a big, big ask, Jess.”

“Y’know Mom already loves her, don’t you?”

“Jess—”

“I’m just sayin’ it would mean a ton if she stayed a little longer. Mom’s been waiting and waiting for this and you know how happy it makes her, you finally being serious about someone. Just let us get to know her a little bit.”

My breath catches at the word serious. They already think we’re serious. Are they hearing wedding bells, too?

“Way to play the emotional blackmail card, you little dork.” Savannah has switched to bantering at her sister’s slightly overdone pleading tone.

“Hey! I gotta play the cards I have! All’s fair in love, war, and arguing with your big sis, isn’t it?”

“And you’re totally a little dork. A manipulative little dork.”

“Which means you’re gonna ask her, right?” Jessie sounds triumphant.

“Okay, I’ll ask.” Savannah’s tone loses the banter. “But I won’t pressure her, Jess. Her job is important. If she says no, it’s no.”

“Yeah, okay. No means no. But—”

“No buts, baby sis.”

“I was just gonna say I’ve seen the way she looks at you and I don’t think she’s gonna say no.”

“Brat…”

I make an “accidental” thump as I step onto the stairs. The voices stop. When I reach the bottom thirty seconds later, Savannah and Jessie are sitting at the table in the breakfast nook, nursing what my caffeine-deprived nose assures me is coffee. When she see me, Savannah lights up with a smile that does funny things to my tummy. Either she’s an Oscar worthy actress or she means it.

Either one scares me.

“Hey, babe.” She gets up and comes over to hug me. I hug her back and add a kiss on the cheek. Because we’re girlfriends and all… except I did it without thinking. Goddamn this whole fake thing.

“How’d you sleep?” she asks, nuzzling against me.

“Like a rock.” That’s an exaggeration, but it’s kind of expected? Like nuzzling is kinda expected? But my body is reacting like it hasn’t gotten the memo about this being fake.

Get with the program, body.

I don’t think it listens…

“You’re very cuddly for a rock.” Her murmur sounds too soft to be for Jessie’s benefit, but murmuring sweet nothings is expected too? I hope I get the hang of this.

I poke her. “Stop being naughty, Summer”—because teasing seems to be called for here.

She laughs and over her shoulder, I see Jessie roll her eyes. “Oh… now I’m in trouble”—giving me her heart-melting grin. “She first-named me.” Savannah nods toward the kitchen. “So coffee or tea? Honestly, I’d recommend the tea. We’re kinda in this coffee wasteland here. Not like back home.”

I answer with a polite, noncommittal shrug. I want coffee, even if it’s substandard. “Coffee’s good. Is there cream?”

“Oh, definitely cream.” Savannah winks as she lets me go. “Also cranberry scones. And I made oatmeal.”

“Oatmeal?” I don’t know if I sound surprised or excited, but I hope the latter. Truth is, my dad made oatmeal every weekend and I hated it. I was a Grape-Nuts girl, though Honey-Nut cheerios with bananas would do in a pinch. But I only got those on school days. I probably should’ve told Savannah about the oatmeal. What other details have we forgotten? Like I used to hate pancakes but now I like them, though I still prefer waffles?

We’re never gonna pull this off…

“Start with coffee and scones, though?” Did that come across right? Am I overthinking?

That’s not even a question…

“Whatever my sweetheart’s heart desires.”

Jessie make gagging noises and I can’t disagree she’s laying it on thick. But we do have an audience.

I follow Savannah into the kitchen where she pours my coffee from a percolator—a percolator—and takes a plate of scones out of the oven where they’re keeping warm. She points me toward the cream in the ancient pink fridge with rounded corners. Seriously, it’s a museum piece. I add a healthy amount (or not healthy, depending on your point of view) and take a sip. I’ve had worse. Not much worse, but still worse.

But the scones, when I bite into one, are delicious. “Oh wow!” I give Savannah an enthusiastic nod. “These are incredible!”

She smiles back. “Old family recipe.”

“You made these?” Oh shit! Did I just blow it?

“I didn’t say it our family recipe.” She grins at my expense. “There’s an awesome little bakery in town that makes them.”

I pull a face. “And here I thought you’d been holding out on me”—trying to cover my faux pax.

Savannah runs her hand suggestively up my arm. “Have I ever held out on you, babe?”

“Get a room,” Jessie mutters from the kitchen table.

With a chuckle, Savannah drops her hand and turns to her sister. “Do you have class today?”

“Lab at noon.” She’s doing her best to look unimpressed.

“You’re gonna have to hit the road soon then.”

Tufts is almost three hours away, so Savannah has a point, but Jessie looks even less impressed.

“I’ll go after Mom gets up.”

“Why don’t you go check on her? She might need help this morning.”

“Subtle, big sis,” Jessie drawls. But she gets up and puts her cup in the sink. “Don’t defile the kitchen counters until after I’m gone. I have ears, y’know.”

We both snort-laugh as Jessie makes a show of marching up the stairs.

“She adores you,” Savannah whispers when her sister reaches the top.

“Sure,” I whisper back. “Snark is the teenage love language?”

“And ennui.”

“Too right.” I take my scone and coffee to the kitchen table. “About the oatmeal…”

“At least try it. That is an old family recipe. More or less.”

I glance up the stairs to make sure we’re alone. “How’d you know I was dubious?”

“You’re poker face is kinda lousy.”

“I guess I’ll have to work on that.”

“Don’t you dare. I think it’s adorable too.”

Until I blow it again, and we have a whole lot of ‘splaining to do. “Uh huh.”

A moment later, Savannah puts a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of me, then sits across the table with her own. There are blueberries mixed in and it does smell good—sweet and spicy. Which reminds me of…

Shaking that thought off, I take a small bite. “Oh!” That’s the second time I’ve done that this morning, but the oatmeal deserves it.

Savannah arches an eyebrow at me. “Good?”

“Yeah. Good. Honey and cinnamon and… nutmeg? There’s something else… I can’t tell what.”

“Cardamom. I got the idea from Layla’s french toast.”

“I like it”—taking a bigger bite.

“So I redeemed oatmeal for you.” She takes her own spoonful. “That’s so cool.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

I suspect Savannah’s about to make some questionable pun on head, but she just smiles in that off-kilter way of hers and contemplates the depths of her oatmeal. “I’m supposed to ask you something, but don’t worry about it. I’ll explain that you can’t.”

“Stay,” I punctuate her sentence. As she glances up, I add, “I was on the landing. I heard the whole thing.”

“Oh…” She looks embarrassed. “Jessie gets carried away sometimes. But it’s not part of the deal.”

“It’s all right.”

Her brows pinch together.

“I’ll talk to them about working remotely for a bit. It won’t kill them.” I don’t mention that I’d already made up my mind. I can’t just leave. No matter Savannah letting me off the hook, it’s not what girlfriends do. I promised I’d be there for her—for them—and I will.

“They’ll let you do that? Work remotely?”

Obviously she didn’t take Jessie’s word for it. Maybe for good reason. “Manny—my boss—won’t like it. He says it’s a team dynamic thing but it’s more that he wants to keep everyone under his thumb. He’ll bitch, but his only choice is to try to replace me. It’s not like this is long-term.”

Absolutely true. So why do I wince? Yeah, I know why I winced. Ouch…

Savannah puts her spoon down and gives me a look. As in, a look. “I don’t want you to risk your job.”

“What about yours?” I deflect. “You’re risking them, aren’t you?”

“Not the same thing. I don’t have a choice. It’s just waitressing, anyway.”

I know it’s not just waitressing though. “What about the coaching?”

She shrugs. “Amie will handle that. They’ll slot someone in while I’m out, but take me back later.”

I note she’s not meeting my eyes. I don’t challenge her though. As she says, she doesn’t have a choice. Which means I don’t either. “Okay. I need to make some calls. It’ll work out. There is one thing, though.”

Now, she looks up and I read her concern.

“You’re right about the coffee. Can we do something about that? Ditch the percolator, maybe?”

She laughs, giving me a thumbs-up. “We can totally do something about that.”