Roomies - Christina Lauren Page 0,94

voice needles me.

She’s wanted to meet me for ages? It’s April 8; I met Calvin officially just over three months ago.

We load up their bags into a cab. “Forty-Seventh and Eighth,” I tell the driver.

We pull away from the curb, and Marina takes my hand. “You look different in your recent photos than the early ones we got.”

The early ones?

My stomach tightens again. “I do?”

“Your hair’s lighter than it was when you first met in school.”

Something is very, very wrong . . .

I pat my hair, plucking a lie from the chaos of my brain. “Yeah, I lightened it a little since then.”

I have never colored my hair.

“Amanda?” Brigid says. “Amanda.” She reaches around her mother in the middle seat and taps my arm. “Amanda, love, is that the Empire State Building?”

She means me.

She’s talking to me.

In all of our texts, not once did she ever need to use my name. She doesn’t know me as Holland. Apparently she knows me as Amanda.

Who the fuck is Amanda?

I am worried I’m going to lose my breakfast in the back of this taxi. “Yes, that, um . . .” I nod to where she’s looking. “That’s it, over there.”

The refrain I put on a loop in my head is to not assume anything until I’ve spoken to Calvin. My first Hail Mary was hoping I picked up the wrong Irish family from the airport, but when they started rattling on in the taxi about being so proud of Calvin, and unable to believe that he was really playing with the orchestra for Possessed, I was pretty sure that wasn’t the case.

Don’t assume anything, I tell myself, walking up to the apartment building. Don’t freak out.

“He’s here?” Brigid asks in an excited whisper. “He’s upstairs, in your flat?”

“He should be,” I tell her over my shoulder. “He doesn’t head to the theater until around five.”

Behind me, Marina lets out a quiet sob. “I cannot believe we are going to see him play.”

That’s right . . . Robert got them front-row tickets for tonight’s show.

Dread has settled as a brick in my stomach, and I can’t even find the enthusiasm to turn and smile at her. “It’s a stunning performance,” I say over my shoulder. “He’s going to be so happy you’re there.”

“He has no idea!” Brigid squeals.

A dark laugh rips through my thoughts. He has no idea—apparently none of us has any idea what we’re in for.

I fit the key in the lock with a shaking hand. Inside, we can hear Calvin strumming his guitar, absently playing “Lost to Me,” and the song performs the same silent seduction on me that it always does.

But then Brigid presses up against me, and I pray to the benevolent gods of everything that whatever this lie is, it doesn’t ruin us . . . if there is or was ever an us.

The door has barely swung open before Brigid bursts past me, screaming, “SURPRISE!”

Calvin shoots up, dropping his guitar in shock. He lets out a choking “Bridge?” and then bursts into tears as his sister launches herself into his arms. He sees his mom behind her and a sob tears out of him as he loosens one arm to pull her into the tangle.

I hover near the back, feeling the sting of tears across my eyes, too, because this scene is wonderful and they’re all sobbing and I love him

I love him

I love him

and this reunion is truly one of the most genuine displays of joy I’ve ever witnessed.

“How did you manage this?” he asks, his voice muffled by his mother’s coat.

“Amanda,” she cries, squeezing him tighter. “Your sweet Amanda and Brigid arranged the whole thing!”

Calvin looks up, sobering as his eyes meet mine across the room.

I put on a pot of water for some tea and make myself busy in the kitchen while they take a few minutes to get caught up. My movements feel robotic, my pulse is paradoxically slow.

Why did he give Brigid my number?

What was he thinking?

And how did we manage to never use names for crying out loud? How did she never ask me why we were in touch now—rather than years ago when we supposedly first got married?

She won’t get too personal, he’d said.

It’s the McLoughlin way.

Would Calvin have told her not to ask?

The deception of that possibility feels cutting.

“When did you get in?” he asks them.

“Just now,” Marina tells him. “Amanda met us at the airport, we took a car here.”

I feel him glance across the room into the