on all you care about is Teddy. It’s time to focus on you. You’ve spent years taking care of him, but now it’s Teddy time. Oh, I like that. Teddy Time.”
“That sounds like a picture book,” Eleanor said, nodding in approval.
“Or like a lingerie moment,” Kirsten mused.
“What the heck is Teddy Time?” Teddy asked, confused. She sat down on the pink couch, trying not to think about what ancient bodily fluids might be embedded in the velvet.
Kirsten and Eleanor sat down on either side of her. “Teddy Time is a chance for you to focus on yourself,” Kirsten said. “Figure out what you enjoy when you’re not busy making food for a grumpy dermatologist.”
Teddy couldn’t help but laugh, even if the entire concept of Teddy Time didn’t really make all that much sense. Then she wrapped her arms around Kirsten and Eleanor, all three of them squished into an awkward hug on the curb sofa. “I love you guys. Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Eleanor said into her armpit. “But never get back together with Richard.”
They all laughed, but Teddy felt a tiny pinprick of nausea start in her belly. Richard wouldn’t ever want her back, because a man like him should be with a woman who had more direction.
She shouldn’t want him back. She knew that. But what she wanted was that sense of certainty, knowing the answer to any question in any situation. But now that she couldn’t hide behind someone else’s desires anymore, it was up to her to figure out her own life. To figure out what she wanted.
Maybe Kirsten was right. Maybe Teddy Time was the answer.
The oven timer went off, making everyone jump.
“Is someone cooking something? Is that what that smell is?” Eleanor asked, sniffing the air. “I assumed it was our neighbor. Or, like, a fragrant ghost.”
“I made dinner for you!” Teddy called, running into the kitchen. “It’s a pot roast. It’s been in there for a while.”
She pulled it out of the oven and returned to the living room, where Eleanor and Kirsten were staring at her, eyebrows raised.
“Do you . . . not like pot roast?” Teddy asked nervously. “I can make something else. And I made French bread, too, so if you don’t like the roast, at least you can have that.”
“Why did you make us dinner, Teddy?” Kirsten asked suspiciously.
Teddy started to sweat. “Because you guys are being so nice, and I wanted to say thank you, and I figured you’d be hungry, so—”
“And why have you been washing the dishes all week, even though the chore wheel clearly states it’s my turn?” Eleanor asked.
Teddy threw her hands in the air. “I wanted to show how much I appreciate everything you’re doing for me.”
“You did every chore on the chore wheel,” Kirsten said. “That’s not the way chore wheels work, you know.”
“Do you think we don’t notice the way you’ve been vacuuming, and bringing in extra throw pillows that you’ve stolen from your ex, and mopping the kitchen floor?” Eleanor asked gently.
“We are morally opposed to mopping,” Kirsten said.
“Teddy,” Eleanor said, “what are you doing?”
Teddy swallowed. “I’m making things comfortable for you guys. You took me in, and I like doing all this stuff, and—”
“No one likes mopping,” Kirsten said with a headshake.
“Sweetie,” Eleanor said, “you don’t have to pay us back by making us food. That’s not how this works. I don’t know what Richard did to make you believe you had to earn his affection, but that’s not the way real relationships work, whether they’re romantic or friendship.”
“This is your place, too,” Kirsten said. “You can just . . . exist here, you know? You don’t have to be a one-woman chore wheel.”
“Okay.” Teddy nodded as an unfamiliar feeling washed over her. It was happiness, she realized. Just plain happiness that she got to be here with her two best friends who loved her exactly the way she was.
“That being said . . . that pot roast smells amazing. Can we eat it now?” Kirsten asked.
After the three of them had demolished the entire pot roast and most of a loaf of French bread along with a bottle of wine, Eleanor said, “We’re not saying you should never cook for us. I mean, we like to cook for movie night.”
“But we don’t want you to feel like you have to,” Kirsten said, taking a sip of her wine. “We already love you, Teddy. You don’t have to convince us.”
“Okay,” she said with a relieved smile.