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1318 Words
Lily sat on the low couch in Maya and Ethan’s living room, a plate of still-warm cookies on the coffee table between them. Maya was propped against a stack of pillows, one hand resting on the high curve of her belly, the other reaching for another cookie with the focused determination of someone who had decided sugar was the only reliable form of comfort left.
The house smelled like cedar and the faint citrus cleaner Maya preferred. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined two walls. There was no television in the main room—Ethan claimed it ruined the atmosphere—but Lily had long since stopped teasing him about it. Movies could wait. Right now Maya needed company more than entertainment.
Footsteps sounded on the spiral staircase. Ethan appeared with his phone still pressed to his ear.
“—after Maya pointed it out, it’s obvious to anyone paying attention. You need to talk to her.”
Maya’s head snapped up. “Ethan!”
Lily’s stomach tightened. She looked between them. “Everything okay?”
Ethan froze on the last step, clearly surprised to find her there. “Lily. I didn’t know you were over.”
She lifted a hand in a small wave. “Surprise.”
He ended the call with a quick “I’ll call you back,” then offered a careful smile. “Pleasant surprise. What brings you by?”
Maya answered before Lily could. “She brought cookies. You’re not getting any. They’re the only thing keeping me from crying at commercials.”
Ethan walked over, kissed the top of Maya’s head, and murmured something soft that made her smile despite herself. He asked what they wanted for lunch. Maya made a face at every suggestion until they settled on the pork sandwich she had liked the previous weekend, no onion. Once he disappeared into the kitchen, Maya shifted and winced.
“Anything I can do?” Lily asked. “Foot rub, more cookies, threats against the universe?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.” Maya adjusted a pillow. “Last night I started crying during a back rub. Ethan looked like he was watching a horror movie in real time.”
Lily smiled. “I read something about hot baths and… other forms of relief helping at the end.”
Maya laughed under her breath. “We’re already experts on that method. Might try the hot-tub version tonight.” She sobered. “Enough about me. How are things with Leo?”
Lily kept her voice even. “There are no things. There never will be.”
Maya threw both hands up, nearly upsetting the cookie plate. “Come on. Ethan thinks we should stay out of it and let you two figure—”
“He’s smart,” Lily cut in.
Maya fixed her with a look. “You have no idea how stubborn I can be when I’m this uncomfortable.”
Lily called toward the kitchen without breaking eye contact. “Ethan? Who’s the most stubborn person you know?”
His voice floated back. “Is honesty going to get me in trouble? Never mind—it’s you, love.”
Maya narrowed her eyes. “Even more stubborn than me?”
Ethan reappeared, sighing. “When Lily was sixteen she talked her parents into letting her move across the country to live with her aunt because she ‘had a feeling’ she’d like it here. At eighteen she negotiated two grade changes. At twenty-one she went after the state liquor board when Leo’s first application got denied. She doesn’t fight often, but when she decides something matters, she doesn’t quit.”
Maya made an irritated sound. “This is about her and Leo—”
“And those two can sort out their own situation,” Ethan said firmly.
Lily felt heat rise in her face. “There’s nothing to sort. Can we drop it? It’s private.”
Ethan held up both hands. “Private is perfect. I’m done.” He started back up the stairs, muttering that lunch would arrive in thirty minutes and that women were impossible when they were this close to giving birth.
Maya waited until his footsteps faded, then leaned forward as much as the belly allowed. “Leo puts on a show with the dating thing. He stopped being the guy who collected numbers around the same time you two made the restaurant official.”
Lily shook her head. “That’s not true. He’s dated since then.”
“Has he?” Maya asked quietly. “Or has he mostly talked about it? You’ve lived together for years. You share a business, a roof, every major decision. Men aren’t complicated, Lily. If the attraction is there, it doesn’t take much. I got Ethan’s attention with pajama shorts and a little cleavage.”
Lily kept shaking her head. The idea felt dangerous. Leo had never looked at her the way he looked at the women he used to bring around—tall, sharp, temporary. She was the constant. The partner. The one who knew how he took his coffee and which roads he preferred when the weather turned bad.
“We’ve lived together for four years,” she said. “Longer if you count the apartment before we bought the building. We made a rule early on—no bringing dates home. That doesn’t mean either of us has been a saint.”
Maya’s expression softened. “I’m not saying you have to do anything. I’m saying maybe stop assuming you know exactly where he stands.”
The front door opened before Lily could answer. The familiar sound of heavy boots on hardwood reached them, followed by the faint scent of cold air and motor oil. Leo stepped into the living room still wearing his cut, helmet tucked under one arm. His dark hair was wind-tossed, cheeks flushed from the ride.
“Ethan texted that lunch was coming and that Maya was eating cookies like they were going out of style,” he said. His gaze landed on Lily and stayed there a fraction longer than necessary. “Didn’t know you were here.”
“I brought the cookies,” she said.
He set the helmet on a side table and crossed the room. When he reached the couch he rested a hand on the back of it near her shoulder, close enough that she felt the residual cold from the outside air. “Everything good?”
Maya smiled, far too pleased. “We were just talking about how long you two have been living on top of each other.”
Leo’s mouth twitched. “Four years of her complaining about my boots and my laundry. Miracle we’re both still breathing.”
Lily stood, needing space. “I should head back. Inventory lists aren’t going to write themselves.”
Leo’s hand brushed her arm as she passed. “I’ll walk you out. The bike's still warm.”
Outside, the afternoon light had turned flat and gray. Leo’s Harley sat at the curb, chrome dulled by the overcast sky. He swung a leg over, then looked at her standing on the sidewalk.
“You okay?” he asked. “You looked like someone told you the kitchen caught fire.”
“I’m fine.” She forced a small smile. “Maya’s just nested and bored. She invents drama for entertainment.”
He studied her for a second, then nodded once. “I’ll be at the restaurant by four. Need anything from the supply run?”
“No. I’ve got it.”
He started the engine. The low rumble filled the quiet street. Lily watched him pull away, leather and black paint disappearing around the corner, and stood there longer than she should have. Maya’s words kept circling.
Maybe stop assuming you know exactly where he stands.
She turned toward her own truck and tried, unsuccessfully, to leave the thought behind.
- Writer
