Page 54 of Roommate's Guide to Love

Then there are the days here like this one, when I wonder if living in Rolling Hills would be so bad. I’m having dinner on a random Monday night with my sisters. I see my niece daily at the diner when Charlie or Simon brings her in. I get to eat my mom’s home cooking and have chats with my dad.

And I kind of like working at The Joint. Besides the dick perks, talking to the people who’ve lived here for years has been more fulfilling than I thought. I figured they’d still look at me as the crazy Quinn who once listed the high school’s address as a property for sale on Craigslist. Instead they’ve been nothing but nice and welcoming to me. I don’t know if it’s a job I’d want to do forever, but it’s been a nice addition to my temporary life here.

Now, will I tell them any of that? Absolutely not. They might be my sisters and the best friends I could ever ask for, but they don’t need to know that Quinn Banks, famously for taking everything in stride, is hurting.

And questioning her life.

No, I’m the sure one. I’m the one who makes instant decisions. And for now, that’s what I need to be.

“I acknowledge that everything y’all have said is true. And I also acknowledge that I can’t make a decision yet.” I don’t want to give too much away, but I know I can’t be vague right now. So maybe a little will go a long way. “When I start thinking about everything, it just feels too big. Too soon, you know? It’s overwhelming frankly. So I push it to the back of my brain and open my Kindle.”

“Ah, avoidance,” Stella says. “I’m very familiar. When I get like that, my therapist has told me to make tiny decisions and do little things. And then you can open your book.”

“You’re in therapy?” Ainsley asks.

“Of course,” she says. “My ex cheated on me with a dominatrix, and I’m a pathological people pleaser. Of course I’m in therapy. And frankly, everyone should be. We’re all a little fucked, if I’m being honest.”

She’s not wrong about that.

“I’ll try it,” I say. “I know at some point I have to make a decision, but I just need a little more time. Maybe one decision at a time is the way to go. But I promise when I’m ready to talk more, you three will be the first I call.”

Or I’ll just do everything on my own time and tell them at the end what I decided. That’s probably more how it’ll go.

Ainsley wraps her arms around me. “And we’ll be here. Always. Whatever you decide, we’ll support you no matter what.”

“Even if you move back to the desert.”

I stick my tongue out at Stella for her comment as I lean into my sister’s hold. And I must admit, a hug from Ainsley is putting a whole lot of points in the Rolling Hills column. No one can comfort you like Ainsley Banks.

“Thanks everyone,” I say. “But next time, can you tell me when the intervention is coming so I can plan for it? Or better yet, maybe have the spotlight focus on someone else. I mean, why can’t we grill Ainsley about her life? She’s got to have something going on.”

“Nice try,” Ainsley says as the waitress approaches our table with our orders. “I deliver babies for a living, volunteer on the weekends, and haven’t drank since college.”

“Whoa!” I yell. “That! We need to go into that! I didn’t even know that happened!”

“Another time,” Ainsley says. “I need food.”

Somehow, the conversation of Ainsleyeverdrinking is brushed away and replaced by four starving sisters. Which, I mean, I get. Charlie and her staff make one hell of a sandwich. I’ve become quite fond of the turkey, bacon, and ranch, which I’m about to take a bite of when the sound of a door slamming open takes all four of us by surprise.

“Unacceptable!”

Each of us puts down our sandwiches as Simon marches to our table. “How many times have I told you that I have FOMO? I can’t believe you didn’t invite me! Again!”

“It’s not that we didn’t invite you, it’s that you shouldn’t have been available now,” says Stella, who also serves as my brother’s office manager and therefore is the keeper of his schedule. “You had a late afternoon and evening showing. And Charlie has the night off, so shouldn’t you be spending it with your fiancée and daughter?”

He waves Stella off as he pulls up a chair. “The showings were done an hour ago. And it was my beautiful fiancée who told me about this little dinner. How dare you not invite me!”

“Can’t we just have some sister time?” I ask. “I promise we’ll invite you next time.”

“You said that last time.”

“Fine, we’ll invite you to the next sisters’ dinner.”

Simon holds out his pinky, apparently my words not enough to seal this promise.

“Thank you. Now, what are we talking about? What’s the tea? Isn’t that what the kids say? Is Quinn staying in Rolling Hills or leaving us again?”

“Nope,” I say. “I’ve already done the debrief. Someone else fill him in.”

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