part. But now I’m wondering if she has a boyfriend back in New York.
Faith and I came to an agreement years ago: we don’t talk about Autumn. Now I’m wondering if that was wise.
Autumn frowns at me. "Are you okay? You seem … off."
I don't want to admit what’s going on, so instead I reach around her for the scrub brush and snatch up the soap. Who the hell is Matt? An ex? A current? A friend? Matt had better be short for Matilda because this was seriously stressing me out. Honestly, I was shocked she wasn’t wearing an engagement ring. Twenty-eight and still single? She was going to get snatched up quick.
“I’m fine. Just tired,” I growl.
"I'll do the dishes," Autumn mutters, jaw muscles flexing as they tighten.
"No, I'll do the dishes," I argue back, squirting soap onto the brush. Too much comes out. Blame it on the anger I feel bubbling just below the surface. Anger I don't even have a right to feel because Autumn hasn't been mine in a very long time. Maybe I should have slept with Naomi this morning. Why didn’t I?
Autumn crosses her arms, standing so that she faces me. "I'm sure you have other things to do, Owen. Thanks for driving my mom home." Her tone is pointed, insinuating, and her anger is back. God, she’s so fucking angry at me all the time. It’s a wonder she can hold it together for five minutes and be cordial. I know she wants to ream me over what happened between us. She’s like a volcano, constantly simmering yet somehow not yet exploding. One day she will and I just hope we survive the aftermath.
She looks down at her bare feet and I do too. Her toenails are painted a bright orange-red, and even her feet are fucking cute.
A long stream of air comes from my nose. I'm trying to calm the chaos inside me. Autumn's head lifts and our gazes lock. She stares up at me; I stare down at her. I think of the Autumn from before, the girl who softened before an argument could become a fight. We never fought; we disagreed but it never became disrespectful or escalated. Not until the very end, until I messed everything up. She left for Santa Clara, and we weren't sure where we stood anymore. For that matter, even when I showed up at her dorm, she didn't fight me, didn't offer a single word in her defense. She just stood there and took my verbal onslaught, the memory of which has my throat tightening with emotion and my head hanging in shame.
Right now, her hardened gaze shows no sign of softening.
My jaw twitches, and I think it's me who's softening, melting like a damn stick of butter left in the hot sun.
I wrench my gaze away before she can spot the weakness. At the same time, a ringing fills the air. Stepping away from the sink, I pull my phone from my pocket.
The name flashing there fills me with dread. I don't want to answer this in front of her, but I have to.
"Hello?"
"Hey, buddy."
His voice is jovial. A good sign. He hasn't crossed over into aggression. Yet.
"What's going on?" I ask. Normally, I would say, What's going on, Dad? But Autumn really liked my father, and I don't want her to know what he has turned into.
"Just headed out to Mickey's. Thought I'd see if you wanted to join us for a beer."
Mickey is my dad's best friend. He lives two streets over and has turned his garage into a bar. It's a BYOB system, but Mickey has the place stocked with essentials so you can pretty much drink what you desire when you're there and stumble home. As long as what you desire is a basic liquor and one mixer. None of the twenty-two-dollar martinis Autumn was probably drinking in Manhattan all these years.
I look at Autumn. She's attacking a pan with the scrubber, her arm muscles flexing. Her whole body is rigid. It's probably best if I leave, like she suggested. This thing we're trying to call friendship is already stretched taut. No need to see how much weight it can support.
"I'm on my way," I say into the phone.
"What?" My dad says, shocked. "Oh, great."
His surprise at my agreement is understandable. I used to go with him to Mickey's when I thought it was just a father and son spending some time together. I quit accepting his invitation once