Maid for Each Other

by Lynn Painter

Abby was the name I’d given to my nonexistent girlfriend. So how had my mother met her?

Okay, the mocking way he said my name was straight up insulting and made my teeth hurt.

he looked like one of those über-controlled types who enjoyed keeping his mouth shut so his adversaries could bury themselves with their own words. Which meant RIP me, because I was the world’s worst rambler.

She was a five-foot-nothing bundle of red hair and attitude who’d be cute if she wasn’t the cause of my current headache,

There was nothing on her face but attitude, like she was daring me to test her, and I wanted to bang my head against a wall.

“So when you said you ‘needed some time,’ you were talking about ten seconds?” “Clearly.”

Obviously I had a key, but was it impolite to the stranger who’d forced her way into my life to use it?

“You are stunning,” I said, my eyes drinking in a sight I hadn’t been prepared for.

“You’re a very irritating boyfriend, for the record,”

“My parents asked me about Abi’s parents. What does her dad do? My mind went blank so I…” “Unalived them,” she said, but there was a little smile on her red lips. “Brutal.”

It’s custom. Insert one thousand rolling-eye emojis.

I wanted so badly to open a discussion about Taylor Swift’s song “The Story of Us,” just to irritate him, but he was actually right.

His eyes were warm, his mouth relaxed, and that look launched a thousand butterflies.

I didn’t know Declan Powell, and I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like him if I did, but in this moment, it felt good to please the big guy in the suit.

He was kind of funny when he wasn’t exuding untouchable, rich, and powerful.

Am I obnoxious? I wondered. I usually wasn’t, but something about Declan brought out the inner shit in me, the snotty teen who wanted to push back on everything.

“You better look me in the eyes when you’re saying things like ‘forty K,’ honey.”

I really didn’t not like her.

It was weird, staying in this apartment, because I’d cleaned it so many times that it felt familiar. Like I was staying at a friend’s house.

“Are you always so ridiculous, or am I just lucky?”

She was a handful, which made me a little nervous about the weekend, but she’d seemed genuine when promising to keep it together.

I knew we were pretending to be in a relationship, but the move managed to shock the shit out of me.

I wasn’t at all ready for the upcoming performance.

If that man smiled more, this would be a lot of fun.

My mom took care of me, yes, but she also burned to the ground any sense of stability we might’ve had in our lives.

Spoiler: My mother thought being in a relationship was the pinnacle of existence. Spoiler: I was inclined to disagree with her.

I was smart enough to know it was best to just ignore chemistry,

“Every single writing class I’ve ever taken has been, like, pure serotonin for me,”

It was confusing to my brain, listening to him talk about his job, because it seemed nice.

Was it weird that I was a functioning adult who still didn’t know how to respond to someone when they expressed their condolences about my dad who died a very long time ago?

I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or that she was just having fun, but I was genuinely feeling this vibe she was giving off.

It was overconfident and decadent, like the man himself.

Liking Declan’s people had not been on my fake-dating bingo card.

It was refreshing to candidly discuss things instead of letting them fester.

She’d been a constant surprise since I met her yesterday, and this was no exception.

Was it weird that the sarcasm I’d hated when I met her was starting to appeal to me? Yes. Yes, it was.

His frustrated tone made me feel like a fool for getting myself in this situation.

I felt a little emotional as he looked out for me, like I wanted to hug him and bury my face in his strong chest because it felt nice having someone worry about me.

I couldn’t explain what exactly was happening between us as our eyes stayed locked together, but it felt nice and warm and like it meant something.

I had no idea why I was so pissed off. Abi Mariano was not my problem, so her health was not my concern. It was stupid that I felt this mad.

There was something about the idea of her brain running wild on paper, creating stories, that I found mildly intoxicating.

I wasn’t lonely. It was more that I was…invisible.

Abi seemed to love everything about my place. It was fascinating, seeing my life through someone else’s eyes.

“Stuff is just stuff,” I said, absolutely meaning it. “I told you that.”

Not only was I a generally awkward person, but I didn’t usually put myself out there to talk to people I didn’t know.

Everything inside me was screaming to chill out and proceed with caution, but every time I looked at her, talked to her, or had a solitary thought that included her, I kind of wanted more.

You’re always worrying about the future, but sometimes you need to take a chance and enjoy the now.”

there was something about Abi’s reaction to everything that was like freebased serotonin.

So we spent the entire afternoon walking around with no end goal. It sounded boring on paper, but I had a great time.

It made perfect sense; nothing about the day had felt like just friends. It’d been a perfect daylong date.