Page 24 of The Write Stuff

She remained dubious. “Did you hold hands? Was there kissing? How about a few longing looks? I would take that.”

This conversation had gone completely off the rails. “Why would there be kissing?”

“Ha!” She jabbed her finger at the screen. “I knew you still wanted to kiss him. That was your dream, right? When you were 14, you wanted him to be your first kiss.”

I’d told her that on her 21st birthday, when I’d gotten drunker than her. I’d regretted it ever since. “I wanted a lot of things when I was 14, including to join Starfleet. Not everything you dream of when you’re 14 comes to fruition. You should know.”

“I’m going to find my cowgirl,” Lucy argued. “As for you and Huxley —”

“There is no me and Huxley,” I shot back, my temper getting the better of me. She was really starting to irritate me. “There is no me and Huxley, and there never will be.”

“Oh, come on.” Lucy made a face. “You write romance novels. Is this not the plot of the best romance novel ever? Two star-crossed lovers separated by warring families, only to get reacquainted 20 years later and forge the love of a lifetime.” She mock-clutched at her heart.

I rolled my eyes. “I write sci-fi romance, which means he would need tentacles.”

“And a 10-foot penis,” Lucy said. “I read that weird book you wrote about the guy with the tentacles, and a 10-foot penis is just way too much.”

“Inches,” I corrected. “It was 10 inches.”

“That’s what I said.”

I looked at the clock on the wall. “I should probably go.”

“Oh, no.” Lucy clucked her tongue and shook her head. “I think there’s something here that you’re not telling me.”

“I’ve told you everything. Literally.”

“Then tell me why my idea won’t work.” She sounded so sure of herself that I hated the possibility of crushing her. It had to be done, though.

“He brought up Mick,” I said in a soft voice.

Lucy froze. “That was … bold.” She looked lost for words for a beat, which was completely unlike her. Then she shrugged. “That should be water under the bridge at this point. Hasn’t his mother been married 10 times since?”

“I think it’s only been three.” I tried to do the math. “Or four times maybe.”

“Either way, that woman isn’t built for marriage. For her to do what she did after what she did to Mom in the first place …” She trailed off.

I understood what she was saying, and I happened to agree with her. It wasn’t something I wanted to dwell on, though. “He has to be loyal to his mom, Lucy. You know that as well as I do.”

“Fine.” She might have agreed, but she wasn’t happy about it. “I’m still coming to help.”

Of all the things she could have said, that was the one I wasn’t expecting. “What?”

“Change of plans,” she said firmly. “I’m coming to Savannah.”

“I guarantee there are no hot lesbian cowgirls for you to make your soulmate here. Although, weirdly, there’s a bar with a mechanical bull.”

“Oh, we’re definitely going there.” Lucy was firm. “I’m coming to help you get through this Huxley thing. It’s obvious he traumatized you.”

Funny, I didn’t feel traumatized. “I’m fine. We talked things out. We’re good.”

“I’ll look up flights and be there as soon as I can,” she insisted, not backing down. “I’m going to need you to pay for the ticket when I find one.”

Of course she did. “Lucy —”

“You have a guest room and no guests,” she countered before I could figure out what I wanted to say. “To me, that sounds kismet. We haven’t shared a roof in years.”

And I was happy about that. I loved my sister — well and truly — but living with her was way too much work. “Lucy, I’m going to be busy all summer. I’m not going to have time for you.”