The Snowball Effect

by Haley Cass

The set of the crazily strong jaw and an entirely unamused sigh told Regan that this woman did not find any levity here. Which was a shame because Regan was usually pretty good with levity.

She knew Regan managed Topped Off, a coffeehouse, but there was no semblance of regularity or consistency in how she flitted about her days. It was highly disconcerting. Like a lot of Regan’s behaviors were.

She trailed off, and this time, it had less to do with her mother and more to do with the fact that she had no idea how to summarize the entirety of Regan and still keep this conversation as brief as possible.

“She’d kill you,” Sutton deadpanned. “So, yes, I can see that you’re telling me the truth due to the fact that you are alive.” Offense slid through her, and Regan’s mouth fell open with it. “Excuse you! She may be bigger than me, but I think I have a much more scrappier spirit than she does!”

Regan stared, clearly dumbfounded. “You are so… weird.” And Emma simply could not control how her mouth fell open in disbelief. “Pot calling the kettle black, in a major sort of way.” Regan was unrepentant. “Yeah, but at least I own it!” She jabbed herself in the chest with her thumb before doing the same to Emma. “You think you’re normal!”

Every single day was written for the month, with Emma’s clear and concise writing listing everything she did. Holy shit.

Oh my god, did Emma really write her twenty-minute nighttime routine in her calendar? Regan leaned in for a better look, and… yeah. She sure did.

I was also curious to know if you had cute red underwear to match your bra,” Regan unthinkingly and honestly remarked, scanning her eyes over the details of Emma’s day-to-day life that she normally wasn’t privy to. She could hear Emma pause. “I – just – you… that’s none of your business.”

“And, of course, she shows up at an ungodly hour, on a weekend!” “Ehhh, I agree it’s a little early to come calling without prior notice, but I wouldn’t necessarily say after nine is ungodly.” “Whose side are you on?” Emma hissed. Regan spun around, thrilled. “Wait. Do you want me to be on your side? I think this is a momentous occasion for us.” She could tell from Emma’s glare that she took Regan’s comment as teasing, but she’d been very serious.

“But, in what I’m sure is the worst part for you, it’s a situation in which you need me.” Emma leaned in closer, then, and Regan felt the tiny hairs on the back stand up with awareness, her shoulders snapping back at Emma’s proximity. They’d never stood so close; she could feel Emma’s warm breath on her cheek, as she murmured, “Believe it or not, that’s actually not the worst part for me right now. So don’t flatter yourself.”

All right, was Regan milking this? Maybe a little bit.

She hadn’t understood at that moment that there would be any ramifications. She hadn’t realized that one dumb little lie-by-omission could have such a snowball effect.

There was nothing like your roommate telling you that you were a directionless loser, only to spend the following morning with your sister, who believed the same thing. Regan was finding that she didn’t have the same fire she normally summoned for her infrequent meetings with her family.

Especially right now. Maybe, if she could pry the truth from people in the easy way Charlotte could, she would never end up in situations like this one with Emma. Maybe she would have known years ago that Emma would never be able to see past their misunderstandings.

What was more than that – what ate at her even more deeply – was what she wasn’t telling Charlotte. What she couldn’t tell Charlotte was that, even as an open book, there were certain chapters that she didn’t allow anyone to read, and they all revolved around her family. Emma had unknowingly picked at a scab Regan had been carrying her entire life.

“Girlfriend-of-best-friend code,” Charlotte drawled incredulously. “Now, why do I get the feeling you’ve just made that up?” “No clue,” Regan shot back. “Because it’s totally real and super valid. Listen, keeping my confidence is a good thing. It proves you have stand-up character and that you aren’t simply talking to me and offering me council to curry good favor with Sutton.”

Regan perked up, leaning in. “Advice straight from the horse’s mouth?!” Charlotte shot her a dour look. “You’d do well not to refer to my grandmother as a horse.”

“I wouldn’t quite call it stalking.” “What would you call it, then? When you find out a man’s schedule and rush through the city to coincidentally run into him?” “Wise business strategy,” Charlotte answered simply. “Also, you and Sutton share far too much.”

“Have you ever considered that the way you react to me isn’t really about me? Like. Fine. I get it; I can be really chatty, and sometimes I act before I think, and sometimes I do the wrong thing. But – the stupid thing is? When push came to shove, I always would have had your back. And I thought you’d have had mine.

At least, she told herself, she used to know what to expect from Regan. Annoyed or pestered as she was, she knew what was waiting for her when she got home. There was a sense of regularity and familiarity.

“Well? Brynn and I are waiting for the conclusion to the conundrum that has had you distracted all week.” Emma wanted to murder Regan for being the root cause of this.

Regan hadn’t even called Sutton this week?! Fuck, if Emma needed further confirmation that she’d well and truly hurt Regan, there it was.

“There have been a lot of times in my life when I do let someone in and try with them, and it never goes well.”

“Please,” Regan scoffed. “You flatter me; I’m merely a humble servant to Lucifer.” She tightened her grip on Emma’s hand, and her strength was surprising. “I have to tell you: I’d already forgiven you after you spoke through Mr. Cuddles. But I appreciate everything else you shared with it.”

“But the truth is that if you snuck up on me like this and made me drop my phone, I’d have flipped out. So. I guess that’s a big point in the Regan Gallagher column.”

“I’m intending for us to use this as a bridge into a true friendship, actually, and that means accepting you as you are. Which for you – I’ve gleaned through my amazing powers of deduction – means sleeping as late as humanly possible on days you don’t have work.”

She’d ruined this tentative truce in true Regan fashion – by accident – and now Emma would respond in typical Emma fashion – incredibly irritated.

“Well, if you want to spend our night of bonding watching reality television, I’ll do it with you. And I promise you that I’m certain I will have bitchy and judgy commentary,” Emma offered. Both shocked by the offer and delighted with it, Regan’s mouth fell open. “Really?” “You don’t think I can come through with colorful commentary?”

“Not to be too graphic, but I could feel my own asshole puckering just from being able to see the look on Allegra’s face when she was dressing down Henry earlier,” Brynn commented as the elevator doors shut behind them to bring them to the lobby.

The reality of Brynn staring between the two of them – the smug expression on her face telling Emma that she continued not to believe they were literally just roommates.

The note also had a little elephant doodled on it – Regan had learned that was Emma’s favorite animal, via their questionnaire, whereas Emma had learned that Regan’s was a shark. So, so strange – which Emma had found disarmingly sweet. For some reason, she’d kept that little note. Maybe it was because Emma couldn’t remember the last time someone had some something like that, something so simple as a doodle on a note, but also so… thoughtful and personal.

But, as she eyed Regan, she was forced to admit that keeping Regan at a distance wasn’t really a possibility. Regan was essentially a puppy; Emma had been slow to learn that. Now that she had, though, it was almost impossible for her to do anything to make Regan give her those big, sad eyes.

Was it so wrong that Regan wanted to be close enough for them to actually converse without shouting? Besides, Regan very clearly felt no embarrassment at anyone possibly giving them a second look, so… why should Emma?

She’d take it because getting the approval from waiters was one of Emma’s favorite things.

And she supposed that was the benefit of having Regan in your corner. After all, she’d seen the ferocity with which Regan had defended Sutton over the years. Emma guessed it was extended to most people Regan cared about.

But she looked back at Regan, at her shameless mushy pancake mess and wide, genuinely curious eyes. At how she had a smudge of maple syrup right at the edge of her full lips. And she realized – that was it. Something about Regan’s blatantly open, honest approach to life may be loud and chaotic, but it was always honest and accepting.

But the grin on Regan’s face wasn’t joking or teasing. If anything, it was a little sheepish. “Maps. I like to draw them.” Emma frowned. “Like… of New York? The subway? The country?” “Of made-up countries,” Regan corrected, staring at Emma incredulously. “The subway?” Emma mirrored her expression. “How are made-up countries less wild than the subway?” “Who do you know that draws subway maps?” “I don’t know anyone that draws maps at all,” Emma countered, then paused as she slid her gaze to Regan. “Well, I didn’t think I did, anyway.