"Thanks, Sar." I scooped up a huge portion of pie and dipped it in the cream before shoveling it into my mouth, uncaring that it burned my tongue. I made a satisfied noise as the sweet and spicy tang of apple and cinnamon hit my taste buds. Perfect.
"Are you watching this?" Sarah already had my remote poised in her hand, ready to switch.
"Yeah, I am. Haven't seen this movie in years." If I had to endure company at eight-thirty at night, I could damn well watch what I liked, even if I had no interest in watchingPredatorfor the hundredth time.
Sarah's mouth twisted in distaste, and I almost reminded her that it wasmyhouse andmyTV. Luckily, she placed the remote back down and picked up her bowl.
We ate in a silence that I wished was companionable, but unfortunately, it wasn't—at least on my end. I could feel an undercurrent of unease and distance between us, amplified by the scrapes of our spoons in the simmering silence. The familiarjokes and reminiscing we would normally do seemed awkward to broach now. My appetite started to wane.
Sarah finally broke the silence. "So, what's new with you? I've barely spoken with you."
Even though her tone was casual, I couldn't help but think she was making a snide dig. I chalked it down to being over-sensitive to our situation and my guilt for being slack with communication.
I chewed slowly as I considered my answer. It felt odd that Sarah never mentioned her outburst or apologized for it. It sat like a giant elephant in the corner, but maybe it didn't affect her as much.
"Yeah, sorry." I flicked her an apologetic smile. "Been busy with work."
She paused her spoon in midair. "You're not too busy to go out drinking with your buddies.”
My head jerked back at the venom in her voice. I stared at Sarah in shock while she resumed eating, as if her outburst was completely normal. I grasped at what to say. "Wha-what are you talking about?"
She paused again, her mouth tightening before she lowered her spoon. "A friend of mine saw you out a few times at The Homestead."
A cold sweat went down my spine, and I fought the urge to squirm in my seat. Even my ass felt sweaty under her accusatory glare. Fuck, did her friend see me the night I was with Lissa? I’d been to The Homestead several times over the last few weeks, so her friend could've spied me on one of those other nights.
I met Sarah's gaze head-on. Her pinched mouth and shrewd eyes were narrowed in recrimination. I slowly lowered my spoon.
"Am I not allowed a social life?"
It was probably the wrong thing to say, and in any other circumstance, I wouldn't have taken offense. I most likely would’ve apologized. But given Sarah's brazen attitude since she walked through my door, making me feel like I was living in filthy conditions by throwing Hannah in my face, I didn’t feel very generous. I also didn't like that her little friend was running tales back to Sarah.
The silence between us was heavy, with neither backing down. Her face colored with some indescribable emotion and her eyes continued to view me in angry slits; nostrils flaring.
"Of course," Sarah finally relented, her voice tight. "Sorry. I just miss you, that's all."
Just as quickly, her face cleared and her eyes softened. The angry flush vanished before she gave me a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Feeling contrite, I placed my bowl on the coffee table. My appetite had gone anyway. "I'm sorry, Sarah. They're work friends, so sometimes after work, I just head out with them for a drink."
I pushed her gently away from me in a teasing manner. "I miss you, too, squirt. I was planning on calling Diane for dinner." I didn't want to disclose to Sarah that I spoke with Diane nearly every day.
Her face relaxed in relief before she reached over to mock punch my arm. "You better," she groused before she resumed eating. I picked up my own bowl and forced the rest down, even though my mind was far from soothed.
By the time Sarah finally left, extracting another promise for dinner, I felt like I’d been holding onto a whirlwind of breath.
I wondered if I should bring up what happened tonight with Diane, and that I was worried about Sarah. I loved them both and didn't want to cause any more strife between us—and Icertainly didn't want Sarah thinking she was a burden to me. Far from it.
Diane already apologized profusely for Sarah's behavior at dinner, even though it wasn't necessary, so I would hate to upset her again over nothing. Besides, we were all navigating our grief in our own way. I couldn't fault Sarah for her random outbursts. Christ, most would say that the way I dealt with my grief and loneliness hadn't exactly been healthy.
In the end, I decided against it. We were family and we'd figure it out with grace and patience.
As I climbed into bed and checked my phone, I acknowledged that there was a positive to Sarah's impromptu visit. It provided a welcome distraction from my thoughts straying to a certain dark-haired beauty.
Chapter 22
Maria - 9 Years Old
FROM THE PRIVATE NOTES OF DR. ANNA MORRIS
