She leaned back to stare at my face. “Why is there static? Did something happen?”
I shook my head. “No, there wasn’t an event, like a fight or anything. It’s just…how it’s always been.”
Gwen nestled her head against my chest. “Well, that’s not good at all. You and your brothers should be close. My sister, Sarah, is my best friend.”
“Yeah, well just because they’re blood doesn’t mean I have to like them.”
She untangled herself from me and stepped backward. “And that’s where you’re wrong. Youneedthem.”
“Wrong.” I scoffed. “I don’t need anyone.”
Gwen’s forehead crumpled for a moment.
“At least, I don’t needthem,” I continued. “They’re the golden boys, and I’m the black sheep. That’s the way it’s always been, and nothing’s going to change it now. Especially with my mom not around.Shewas the glue.”
“You were close to her, huh?”
I nodded and tried to stomp down the grief I felt every time I thought about how we had lost her. My coping mechanism to deal with any loss or pain or sadness was to compartmentalize my feelings and shove them down. They couldn’t hurt me if I didn’t allow myself to feel them.
“Are you sure you want me to go?” Gwen asked.
“I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t want you to go.”
“True,” she nodded. “In that case, I’d be honored to go with you. I can be your buffer.”
I reached out to take her hand and pull her closer to me again. She snuggled against me, and I marveled at how perfectly we fit together. I rested my chin on top of her head and stroked her back.
“How long will the quiche be in the oven?” I asked.
Gwen twisted her head to glance at the timer on her phone. “We still have thirty minutes. Sorry.”
“Thirty minutes,” I repeated. “Okay, how about an appetizer?”
“Sure,” she chirped as she untangled herself, already in planning mode. “What do you have in mind? I saw some nice Stilton in your fridge. You’ve got some French bread, and I can whip up a little olive oil dipping sauce. Sound good?”
I shook my head as I opened the refrigerator. “I was thinking aboutthistype of appetizer.”
I held up the can of whipped cream in one hand and the bottle of chocolate sauce in the other.
Gwen frowned at me. “On top of what?”
I stalked toward her. “On top ofyou.”
Her eyes went wide, but then she gave me a wicked grin.
“Only if you can catch me.”
Gwen paused a beat to giggle at me, then took off running, the sound of her bare feet echoing throughout my apartment.
I sure hoped thirty minutes would be long enough.
19
GWEN
“Do you want me to put the cookies in a plastic bag, or is Tupperware better?” I called out to Sarah.
“Freezer bag, please,” she yelled back to me. “Easier to cram in my carry-on.”
