It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover

I smile at her and rinse my mouth, but I don’t answer that question. I have
that toothbrush for her, but I don’t want to admit it. I’ve made a lot of small
moves over the years that were all excused with just in case Lily…
After she left my place a couple of years ago while she was hiding from
Ryle, I went out and bought a lot of things just in case she needed to come
back. An extra toothbrush, more comfortable pillows for my guest room, a
change of clothes in case she showed up in an emergency.
I had a Lily emergency kit, if you will. I guess now it’s more of a Lily
sleepover kit. And yes, I brought it all to the new house with me when I
moved. I’ve always had a little bit of hope that we’d end up together
someday.
Hell, if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve had a great deal of hope. I’ve
based a lot of my decisions on the possibility that Lily might come back into
my life. I even chose this house over another one I was considering, simply
because of the backyard. It looked like a backyard Lily would fall in love
with.
I wipe my mouth on a hand towel and then hand it to her to use. “Can I
make you breakfast before you go?”
“Yeah, but kiss me first. I taste better than I did this morning.” She stands
on her tiptoes and I wrap my arms around her and lift her the rest of the way
to my mouth. I kiss her while I walk her out of the bathroom and then drop
her onto my mattress. I hover over her.
“You want pancakes? Crepes? An omelet? Biscuits and gravy?” Before
she can answer me, my doorbell rings. “Josh is home.” I give her a quick
peck. “He likes pancakes. Will that work?”
“I love pancakes.”
“Pancakes it is.” I walk to the living room and unlock the door for Josh. I
open it, and then I immediately freeze at the sight of my mother.
I sigh, frustrated I didn’t use the peephole.
She looks at me flatly, her arms folded across her chest. “I got a visit from
a caseworker yesterday.” Her eyes are accusing, but at least she isn’t yelling.
I am not about to do this with Lily here. I step outside and try to close the
door, but my mother slaps it open. “Josh, get out here!” she yells into the
house.
“He isn’t here.” I keep my voice low.
“Where is he?”