Kayla would keep applying for jobs. Once she had income, she’d contribute something small. We’d revisit the room listings together and choose a realistic move-out date.
“And no more tests,” I warned.
Andrew walked in carrying groceries.
“And no more tests.”
“That should probably be a universal rule.”
Kayla pointed at him.
“Nobody asked you.”
“He’s allowed to speak in his own kitchen.”
Andrew set the bags down.
“Thank you, Amanda.”
Kayla rolled her eyes, but there was no fight behind it.
“He’s allowed to speak in his own kitchen.”
Then Andrew looked at me.
“And next time something affects both of us, I won’t hide behind ‘she’s your sister.'”
“Good.”
Kayla groaned.
“Are you two going to become emotionally healthy right in front of me?”
“Probably,” Andrew said. “You can move out if it’s unbearable.”
