Page 91 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
Little does she know, there is absolutely zero to be jealous about.
But she’s right to be concerned because it feels like Cassidy just dropped a bomb in my lap. It’s a mess of different colored wires and a countdown clock, and my arms are duct-taped behind my back. Though duct tape or not, it’s not like I’d have the first idea how to diffuse the thing anyway.
“Nah. She just had some questions about Isabelle. It’s fine.”
“You’re good?” Merritt asks, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit as she studies me.
“So good.” I lean down and kiss her, crossing my fingers that the distraction will keep her from seeing right through my lie.
TWENTY
Merritt
“The biggest thing,”Sadie is saying, with the kind of authority she in NO way deserves as the sister most averse to relationships, “is that you make the decision to stay onyourterms. Because ofyou, not because of a man.”
“That’s actually good advice.”
I wish it weren’t good advice, because then I could give Sadie a hard time, maybe tease her about not having the experience to back up her words. I also wish Eloise had stayed on the three-way video call long enough to weigh in. But the moment I mentioned needing relationship advice, she suddenly had research she needed to do at the library.Urgentresearch.
Researchbeing another way of saying she can’t handle talking about relationships, because Eloise is still avoiding her feelings for a certain grumpy lawyer who lives next to me.
But I’ll count this call as a win. It’s the first three-way video chat we’ve had in I don’t know how long. All spurred on by Isabelle asking me if I was close with my sisters and me realizing that no—I’m not. But Iwantto be.
This call was a less than auspicious start, what with Eloise hanging up rather than opening up to us, but it’s astart.
“Don’t sound so surprised,” Sadie says. “I’ve probably dated more than both you and Lo put together.”
“Firstdates, maybe. How aboutrelationships? That’s where a man and woman make a commitment to—”
Sadie pretends to sneeze loudly. “Sorry. Must be allergic to something you said.”
I shake my head and prop the phone up on the dresser, angled in such a way that Sadie can’t see what I’m doing. Which is: running my hands over the paintbrushes Hunter bought me.
I’ve been treating these art supplies like a twelve-step program. The first few days, I just stared at the box in the corner from a distance. Next, I got close and actually looked at everything.
Hunter didgood. He picked out the nice kind of synthetic brushes where the bristles don’t fall out as you’re painting. The kind of paint with higher quality pigment for vibrant colors and better mixing. Even the canvases are the heavy-duty kind I used to use.
Did he remember? Or did he just Google it or ask an employee for help?
Probably the second, but I prefer thinking it was the first.
A memory washes over me. I’m standing at my easel on Gran’s sun porch, paintbrush in hand. Hunter is standing behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist and his head resting on my shoulder.
“Go bolder,” he says softly, his breath tickling my cheek, making me think about anything but paint. “Add more red.”
“Red? When have you ever seen a red sky?”
“It won’t look red when it blends with the other colors. Just trust me.”
“But I want it to look real.”
His grip tightens, his lips moving close to my ear. “Do you want it to look real? Orfeelreal?”
I shake myself back into the moment, where Sadie is still on the phone, and I’m still staring at this box of supplies.
After looking closely, the next step was talking to them. Yeah—I know it’s ridiculous. I don’t even care. Oakley Merritt embraces talking to inanimate objects. If research shows that plants grow better with human words, maybe talking to my supplies will help me create better. Whenever I get to that step.
Fine.I’ll admit it. Talking to tubes of paint and brushes is not a thing. But it hasn’t stopped me from murmuring sweet nothings to them.
