Before he opens the door, he pauses. “It might—” he starts, and then breaks off. He rakes a hand through his hair, and my fingers itch to smooth the strands back into place. Neil McNair is not Neil McNair if every piece of him isn’t in perfect order. “It might be messy,” he finally settles on, turning the key and letting me into the McLair for the very first time.
Neil’s house is in an older part of Wallingford. The houses on this block are all single-story, yards overgrown with weeds. Neil’s is a bit tidier than the others, but the lawn still looks like it could use an hour with a mower. Inside, it’s clean—and cold. Sparsely decorated, but nothing out of the ordinary. I’m completely mystified by his warning.
“I hope you’re okay with dogs,” Neil says as a golden retriever jumps on me, tail wagging.
“I love them,” I say, scratching the golden behind the ears. My dad’s allergic, but I used to beg for one for Hanukkah every year. “Golden retrievers always look so happy.”
“She seems to be. She’s going blind, but she’s a good old girl,” he says, kneeling down so she can lick his face. “Aren’t you, Lucy?”
“Lucy,” I echo, continuing to pet her. “You’re so beautiful.”
“She’s going to shed all over you.”
“Have you seen my dress today?”
He gets to his feet, and Lucy follows him. He must notice I’m clutching my arms because he says, “We don’t turn the heat on in the summer. Even when our summers are, well, like this.”
“That’s good,” I say quickly. “Smart. To, um, save money and everything.”
My family is comfortably upper-middle-class. There’s some poverty in Seattle, but the neighborhoods surrounding Westview are generally middle- to upper-middle-class, with a few clusters of mega-wealth.
I never realized money was an issue for Neil’s family.
A girl with wild red hair bounds out of a room down the hall. “I thought you weren’t coming home until later.” She looks eleven or twelve, and she’s adorable: high ponytail, a lavender skirt over black leggings, freckles dotted across her face.
“I’m just stopping here for a second,” Neil says. “Don’t worry. I’m not crashing your sleepover.”
“That’s disappointing. We had so much fun giving you a makeover last time,” she says, and he groans. There’s something about the idea of kids giving Neil McNair a makeover that’s too precious for words. She turns to me. “I’m Natalie, and if he’s told you anything about me, it’s a complete lie. Wait, are you Rowan?” she asks, and all of Neil’s exposed skin goes red. “I love your dress.”
“I am,” I say. “Thank you. I like your skirt.”
Neil puts a hand on his sister’s shoulder. “Are you… okay?” he asks in a low voice, as though he doesn’t want me to hear. “About earlier?”
She touches a Band-Aid on her knuckle. “I’m fine.”
Family emergency. Oh God—did someone hurt her?
I shrink back a few steps, suddenly very, very wary of what I’ve walked into.
“If they ever bother you about him again, you swear you’ll tell me? You won’t use your fists?”
“But they’re so effective,” she says, and Neil shakes his head. “Fine, fine. I promise.”
“Neil, baby, is that you?” a voice calls from the kitchen.
Baby? I mouth at him, and if possible, he flushes an even deeper crimson.
“Yeah, Mom,” he says. “I’m just grabbing something.”
Lucy follows us into the small kitchen. Neil’s mom is sitting at the table, huddled over a laptop. Her short hair is a darker auburn than Neil’s, and she’s wearing what I assume are her work clothes: gray slacks, black blazer, sensible shoes.
“I’m Rowan,” I say, and somehow feel the need to explain why I’m here. “I’m helping Neil with a—a project.”
“Rowan!” she says warmly, springing to her feet to shake my hand. “Of course. It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Joelle.”
“Finally?” I echo, glancing at Neil, grinning at him. “Horrified” doesn’t even begin to describe his expression. Oh my God, this is too good. He talks about me to his family. I decide to torture him some more. “It’s great to finally meet you, too! Neil talks about you all the time. It’s so nice when guys aren’t embarrassed to talk about their moms, you know?”
“That’s very sweet. You’ve made these past few years challenging for Neil in the best possible way.” She places a hand on his shoulder. He quietly disintegrates beneath it. “He loves a good challenge. He told us you’re going to Boston for school next year?”