“The man you’re in love with.”
“Man? I never said anything about—” She stopped as understanding dawned. “No. I’m not in love. Why would you think that?”
“Because you mentioned being honest about your feelings and being rejected.”
“Yes, but not a boyfriend. Not a man. A woman. My—” she paused, stunned that he’d think she was in love “—sister.” The word felt unfamiliar on her tongue.
“Sister?” It took him a moment to catch up. “The sister your father walked out on at birth?”
“That’s right. And when you put it like that, perhaps it’s not surprising that she didn’t run along the red carpet toward me. Erica. That’s her name, by the way.”
“You told me it was Madeleine.”
They’d had long conversations about it in the months before that kiss, before their relationship had become awkward and stilted.
She missed that. She missed the days where she’d been relaxed and natural with him and said the things that she wanted to say and done what she’d wanted to do. She hadn’t policed every word and every move in case he misinterpreted things.
She forced herself to concentrate. “That’s what Dad told me, but she goes by Erica, which was why I didn’t immediately recognize the name when she made the booking. I wasn’t expecting her to turn up here, but the moment she stepped through the door I felt—it’s hard to explain—I just knew. I recognized her, even though I’d never seen her before.”
“Family resemblance?”
“Yes. And the way she stared at the photo on my desk. I knew. I expected her to say something, but she didn’t. And I stewed on it and waited and then wondered if maybe she was waiting for me to say something,so I decided I should just go for it.”
He nodded. “Generally, if there’s something that needs saying it’s better to say it.”
“That’s what I thought. But I messed it up. Badly.”
“I don’t see how anything you said could have been bad.”
“It wasn’t what I said, it was what I did. I hugged her.” Remembering made her cringe. “I couldn’t help it. When she opened the door I just felt so happy that she’d come here—so happy that I had family—”
“You hugged her.”
“Yes.” She could see the smile playing around his mouth and had no idea why he’d be smiling because as far as she could see there was nothing funny about the situation.
“You were pleased to see her,” he said. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.”
“That’s because you weren’t there. It was like hugging a cat. Not Panther because she is unusually cuddly, but you know what I mean—sometimes they go all stiff and rigid and you know that all they want is for you to stop so that they can get back to doing their own thing.” And now she thought about it, Erica reminded her a little of a cat. Dignified. Poised. Careful. Selective. “I handled it badly.”
“You’re being hard on yourself. There’s no rulebook for handling a situation like this.”
“True. But the fact that she hasn’t been in touch in the past twenty-eight years of my life probably should have told me something.”
“Slow down.” He was holding her arms again, his grip firm and comforting. “Breathe.”
“I’m sorry.” She breathed. “I’m a little flustered.”
“It seems so.”
She probably should have pulled away but she didn’t want to. She felt the tug of attraction, strong enough to distract her. No point in pretending it didn’t exist. No point in pretending that she didn’t feel anything. She felt plenty, but right now she had more than enough to deal with.
“I’m sure she resents me.” She shifted her focus back to Erica. “And I wouldn’t blame her. She probably took one look at the photograph of Dad swinging me and wanted to punch me.”
“I doubt she wanted to punch you.”
“You’re right. She’s elegant. Not at all the punching type.”
“And she’s here at the inn,” he said, “which must mean she intended to make contact. I agree that it can’t be coincidence.”
