Page 10 of More Than Friends

“I promise I’m in for the night,” I assure my mom. The words make me sad. The last thing I want to be is alone tonight after the news I just got, but I also don’t know what to do. I look across my kitchen at an old bottle of wine that sits on my counter. I haven’t opened it because I don’t think it’s one that I like, but maybe I’ll still pop it open tonight to help drown my sorrows about not having a place to live come next week.

“I love you, Lottie,” Mom says, breaking me from my thoughts. “We’ll talk again soon. Don’t forget it isn’t me who has to call you. The phone works both ways.”

I nod. I probably should be better about being the one to call her. “I love you too, Mom. Tell everyone I love them.”

“Good night, honey.”

“Night.” I hang up the phone, a sudden lump forming in my throat.

I think I’m just more emotional than normal because of the day that I had, but right now, I wish nothing more than to be closer to my family. I wish I could drive to my childhood home and get a hug from my mom. But I can’t. I chose to move away, and I don’t regret the choice. I want to be here. I just miss them. I know if I told my mom about losing the apartment, she might be able to give me advice about what to do, but I can’t tell her. I don’t want her to think I’m not able to handle things by myself out here.

Plus, all my other siblings have their lives so perfectly planned out. They’ve got it all together. Good jobs. Families. Houses. Kids. And then there’s me—the daughter who moved across the country and doesn’t use her degree or have any kind of serious relationship. While I’m happy with where I’m at in life—despite the current hiccup of finding where to live—I can’thelp but wonder sometimes if my parents think I’m a failure compared to my siblings.

It’s always been hard being so much younger than them. Because of the age difference, they’ve always been ten steps ahead of me in life. I used to blame my age on it and hoped my parents realized that too. But now at twenty-four, it’s hard not to wonder if my parents wish I were doing more with my life than what I am.

I shake my head.

I can’t think like that.

I know my parents—my entire family—is proud of me. I left the only life I’ve ever known to come out here and chase a dream. And while actually getting to the part where I could open a photography business out here seems still so far away, I’ve found a good job that allows me to save money. I’ve found my own family of friends out here. And I’ll figure out my living situation too.

I’m doing it all on my own, and I’m proud of myself for it.

But that doesn’t mean that the thought of finding a new place to live doesn’t stress me out.

I stare at the bottle. Opening it up and polishing off a bottle of wine alone doesn’t seem like the worst idea.

But talking to my family, hearing them together, makes being alone the last thing I want to be right now.

If only I knew what Jude was doing.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m grabbing the bottle of wine from my counter and walking back out to my car.

I get so lost in thought, trying to brainstorm places I could look for somewhere to live, that one moment, I’m at my apartment, and the next, I’ve made it to Jude’s.

Showing up at Jude’s unannounced at night probably isn’t my best idea, but I just really didn’t want to be alone, and it seemed like a good idea to spend time with him. He’s alwaysthere for me when I need him, and tonight’s a night I just need my friend. He’s smart and levelheaded—most of the time—maybe he can help give me some insight on my next steps. At the very least, he can make me not feel pathetic by drinking with me instead of making me drown out my sorrows alone.

I don’t know if he’s even home, but it doesn’t stop me from pulling into his driveway to find out. The gates are open, making me pause for a moment, wondering if maybe he has company. Typically, I have to type in his code to pull in, but not tonight. I’m wondering if it’s open because somebody’s already there.

I slowly pull up the driveway, telling myself that I’ll turn around and pretend I was never here if he has someone inside. I don’t want to bother him if he’s on a date or busy, but if he’s alone, I’m hoping he won’t mind me inviting myself over.

I let out a small sigh of relief when I don’t see any cars besides his in the driveway. The lights in the house look like they’re on, and that’s all the invitation I need to park my car and grab the bottle of wine from my passenger seat.

I’m walking to his doorstep when my steps falter for a moment.

I’m suddenly feeling self-conscious. I didn’t give myself the time to think about showing up at his house without telling him first.

Maybe I should rethink this. Jude and I hang out all the time—I spend more time with him than I spend with anyone else—and he often shows up at my house unannounced, but I don’t typically show up at his house without texting him first. It’s mostly because I never know when he’s in meetings and working or not, but now I’m second-guessing if he’ll be annoyed by me showing up without any kind of warning.

Just because there isn’t anyone parked in the driveway doesn’t necessarily mean he’s alone. After golfing with Tyson, he hung out at Pembroke. I’ve seen him flirt with many membersand guests throughout our friendship but have never actually seen him take any of them home. That isn’t to say he doesn’t do that though. He’s Jude Kensington. Of course he brings women home. I just somehow have never witnessed it. I wouldn’t be shocked if he found someone at the club to bring home and spend time with.

I stop at the doorway, my eyes dancing along his front lawn, which is bathed in the brilliant orange of the setting sun.

“This might be a bad idea,” I whisper to myself. Maybe I shouldn’t come here unannounced. Maybe I can give him a call instead. The panic of finding a new place to live for the summer made me have a momentary lapse in judgment. I wanted someone logical like Jude to tell me it’ll be okay and I’ll figure it out, but now that I’m here, I’m wondering if I should’ve given him a warning before coming to him for comfort.

“Back home alone we go,” I mutter under my breath. I’m taking a step back toward my car when Jude’s front door swings open.

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