On Saturday, I cleaned the house properly, even better than I’d found it.

I vacuumed the dog hair, changed the sheets, ran the dishwasher, wiped down the kitchen, and emptied the bins.

On Sunday, I took Bear and Nell on one final walk and fed them early so Ryan wouldn’t have to do it the moment he got home.

Then I arranged the kitchen island like I was preparing it for a hotel guest.

***Ryan’s laminated price list went back exactly where he’d left it, perfectly square with the edge of the counter, with the spare key on top.***

Beside it, I placed an envelope with his name neatly printed on the front.

Inside was something I’d spent two evenings preparing.

I checked it once more before sealing it.

Then I let myself out at 3:00 P.M. and took the long way home so I wouldn’t be there when their cab arrived.

At 4:52, my phone rang.

> ***Ryan.***

I answered. “Hi.”

No hello.

“What the hell is this?”

I knew exactly what he was holding.

Still, I asked, “What’s what?”

“This thing you left on the island.”

“The envelope?”

“Yes, Julia. The envelope.”

“Oh. That’s my running total.”

Silence.

> ***Then Ryan said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”***

I sat down at my friend’s kitchen table.

“I’m not.”

Paper rustled through the phone.

“You sent me an invoice.”

“Yes.”

“An actual invoice for dog-sitting?”

“You wanted everything accounted for.”

I’d spent two evenings putting it together.

For the first few days, I’d genuinely tried to let the laminated sheet go.

But every time I added milk to my coffee and remembered I supposedly owed my brother thirty cents while taking care of his elderly dog, the absurdity became harder to ignore.

So if Ryan wanted everything accounted for, I decided everything would be accounted for.

***”What is this?” he demanded. “Dog walking, $600?”***

“Forty walks.”

“You’re my sister!”

“Correct.”

“You can’t charge me fifteen dollars every time you walk my dogs!”

“Why not?”

“Because you agreed to look after them!”

“And you agreed I was doing you a favor.”

More paper rustling.

“Medication administration, $100?”

“Bear needs medication twice a day. Twenty doses at five dollars each.”

“Putting cheese around a pill takes ten seconds!”

“Then the boarding place should have done it for free.”

He went quiet.

Then:

“Overnight pet sitting, $400. What is that supposed to mean?”

“Ten nights at forty.”

“You were staying here!”

“To care for your dogs.”

“You needed somewhere to stay!”

“No, Ryan. I already had somewhere to stay.”

That was the part he’d never seemed to understand.

My friend’s spare room wasn’t permanent, but I wasn’t homeless. I had never asked Ryan for somewhere to live.

He was the one who needed help.

Somehow, he’d turned that into a favor he was supposedly doing for me.

***He scoffed. “And sixty dollars for cleaning?”***

“I cleaned the house better than I found it.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“Fine. Cross that one out.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Keep going.”

“What?”

“There are more pages.”

I heard him flipping through them.

I’d itemized the dog walking, medication, overnight care, cleaning, and forty dollars in mileage for all the extra driving.

The total was exactly $1,200.

Below that was a section labeled “Guest Expenses.”

> ***Ryan went silent when he reached it.***

I’d recorded every cup of coffee, splash of milk, slice of bread, egg, both laundry loads, and yes, the eleven-minute shower.

My expenses came to $18.70.

Then I deducted them from his bill.

Balance due: $1,181.30.

“You’re actually expecting me to pay this?”

> ***I smiled.***

“Don’t be weird about it. It’s just so nobody’s out of pocket.”

“Very funny.”

“It’s your system.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“It literally is. You laminated it.”

“This is completely different.”

“How?”

“Because those are professional rates!”

“And?”

“You’re not a professional dog sitter.”

“No. I’m your sister who gave up ten days because Bear doesn’t settle with strangers.”

> ***His voice dropped.***

“You’re being petty.”

That word irritated me more than I expected.

“Ryan, you told me I was saving you six hundred dollars.”

“So?”

“So you understood my help had financial value when it benefited you.”

He didn’t answer.

“But the second I drank your coffee, suddenly every penny mattered.”

“It’s about principle.”

“Exactly.”

That shut him up.

For a moment, all I could hear was Bear panting somewhere near the phone.

***Then Steph spoke in the background.***

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