Mason, one arm extended in taking the selfie, had his other arm wrapped around Jude, snuggling him close. That one picture was bad enough. But it seemed there were multiple shots. In one picture, they were kissing—and not a simple kiss either, but lips mashed together, bodies pressed up tight. In another, his hands cradled Mason’s face. The final shot caught him with his head resting on Mason’s shoulder. His eyes were closed, but a smile curved his lips, and he held Mason around the neck. Jude swallowed hard. The only word to describe the expression on his face was “blissful.”
Dammit.
He quickly clicked out of the pictures. “That was a mistake. We both had a little too much to drink.”
“You know”—Edith sipped her drink—“sometimes when we let ourselves go, we find ourselves exactly where we belong.”
“Have you taken up writing greeting-card verses in your retirement?” He drank half his Scotch. “That’s my cue to leave. Right now the only place I belong is home, going over the work piled up for tomorrow.”
“Bo-ring.” She ate some more of her dinner, then pushed the plate away. “When was the last time you had sex?”
Of course she’d say something outrageous when he had a mouthful of liquor. Jude choked and wheezed. “Wh-what? Edith, are you kidding me?”
She lifted a narrow shoulder. “You’ve been under a lot of stress with the wedding and everything. Sex can help relieve it.” She motioned with her fork. “That Mason would help, I’m sure. You must know each other well if he’s Ilana’s brother-in-law.”
“I’m so not having this discussion,” he muttered. “Are you finished?” Without waiting for her to answer, he took her plate to the sink and washed it. Everything else he placed in the refrigerator. When he returned to the dining area, he found her standing and leaning over to reach for her walker. Alarmed, he rushed to help her, but she slapped his hands away, clearly irritated.
“I’m not incapable. Who do you think takes care of me when you’re not here? Me. Now you might not like what I have to say, but someone needs to tell you. Maybe Doug and Ilana are too afraid of you, but I’m not.”
“Tell me what?” Jude leaned against the dining table, bracing himself for her weekly lecture on why he needed to go out and have fun.
“It’s time to take a step back from your sister’s life.”
For the first time in a long time, Jude was speechless. “Pardon me?”
“Ilana loves you so much—she won’t say anything, but I can.”
“Because you don’t love me?” Jude’s lips twitched.
“No, because I love you too, you foolish boy, but I’m not related to you. Plus, I’m old.” Her eyes twinkled. “I can get away with saying and doing things younger people can’t.”
Despite her earlier words, Jude chuckled. “Trust me, I know. And I also know you take full advantage of it. You’re sharper than most people, no matter what age.”
“Stop deflecting. This is about you and your nonexistent social life. Your sister won’t tell you because you growl at anyone who tries to knock sense into you.”
“I don’t growl. I’m tired of people telling me what I need to be happy. I’m perfectly satisfied with my life.”
“Bah. Satisfied. Be satisfied when you’re my age and you’ve squeezed everything you can out of the years you’ve lived. I know I’ve lived a juicy life. But you? Sitting at home looking at the computer isn’t living. Ilana’s off enjoying herself with the man she loves. Soon she’ll have children.”
“I hope so.”
“I do too, but where does that leave you? The uncle who gets invited as the third wheel? She doesn’t want that for you. And neither do I.”
He winced at her brutal but honest assessment. More importantly, that Ilana thought the same as Edith hurt. Jude didn’t think he overstepped in his sister’s life, but for almost twenty years he’d been watching out and protecting her. He wasn’t sure who he was if that was gone.
“I go out to the theater and ballet. I-I’ve met some men. I’m not a hermit.”
“Men who mean nothing to you. And don’t think Ilana was complaining about you. That girl loves you to death. She’s worried and upset that you’re alone.”
Sick of the conversation, Jude threw his hands up. “Alone, alone, alone. That’s all I hear from everyone. What’s so wrong with being alone? Maybe I haven’t found someone worth spending my time with. Maybe I simply want to be by myself. Maybe—”
“Maybe you’re too afraid to take a chance,” Edith said softly but with a devastating stab to his heart.
He hung his head. “Let me finish up with your princess, and then I’d better go. I have meetings to prepare for the week.”
“Plus, you don’t want to run into the ladies again.”
“Got that right.”
