Page 59 of The Grand Duel
“Your sister,” I say, changing the subject. “Jovie, wasn’t it.”
And fuck if that doesn’t spark memories.
A half smile brings her back to me. She nods. “She’s in Australia. A pharmacist—or she’s training to be one. She has Willow, my niece, to take care of so it’s tricky.”
“Why Australia?”
“A man.”
I nod, catching the disdain in her tone. “You don’t like him?”
“I don’t hate him. He was staying here with family when she met him and fell pregnant. They were both young, but he was two years older than Jovie and knew better.” She continues eating her ice cream, her face still thoughtful. “That little girl and her dad—Dennis. He’s a good dad.”
I can’t help but think that fact saddens her as much as it makes her happy.
“He is. Or at least he’s trying to be,” I agree, and for the first time since she ran from the car, the look on her face when talking about the case, I contemplate her upset not being solely because of me.
I flip the conversation again. “Your sister’s boyfriend?—”
“They’re not together. A one-night stand that ended with Willow.”
“But she’s still in Australia?”
“He has an amazing family who love Willow and want to spend time with her. It’s complicated, but she wants to be there.” She reaches across the table with her bowl, ending the conversation. “Here, give me yours.”
She hooks a finger on the lip of my bowl and drags it towards her. “Hey,” I groan.
She looks up just as defensively. “What?”
“That’s mine.”
“I know…but it looks nicer than mine.”
I shake my head and look out towards the road to stop my smile from forming.
When I look back at her, she’s grinning at me around the spoon. “Thank you for coming inside with me. Is it just modes of transport that you find triggers your moods? You’re being awfully nice all of a sudden.”
“I wasn’t angry at you before, Lissie.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
She looks at me, and I look right back at her, knowing this is it. This is the perfect time to tell her.
“It’s fine. Forgotten. All of it. I probably took everything a little to heart anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugs, although it’s as if the weight of the world is behind it. “It was my first few days at a new job. Edna is…well, Edna, and she sort of painted a slightly different picture of who you actually are. And that’s not on you.”
“Who did she paint me out to be?” I ask, curious.
“The type of man you’d happily take home to your mother, I think she said.” She chuckles, but I can barely breathe.
I have to tell her.
Now.