“Tripp knows,” I blurt. Her eyes widen at my admission, a hand poised to slap me lowering to her side. “We moved in together because wearetogether. I didn’t want to tell you yet because I thought you would—” My sentence is cut off by that hand raising again to meet my cheek in a harsh slap that sends a sting through every nerve. “—Freak out.”
When she moves to speak, words can’t seem to form on her lips. All she’s able to manage is sputtering syllables that don’t quite connect to one another.
“Take a minute,” I tell her as I reach for the carafe to fill my mug. “We can talk outside.”
With a pat to the top of her head that no doubt aggravates her, I slide past her and through the living room to reach the back yard. There’s no doubt in my mind that Julia will try to talk to her about this as I step through the sliding glass door, but Irina will tell her that it isn’t her fault. She may pass judgment for what we’ve done in the past, but the rest of her anger will fall on me.
I’m the one who’s done this before.
I’m the one who should know better, as far as she’s concerned.
My ass hits the stone planter wall as I huff a defeated breath with a shake of my head. I spend at least five minutes - though it feels closer to twenty – alternating between watching through the panes of glass as my sister paces inside, and running througha script of things I want to say to her if and when she finally comes out here.
Her mouth moves while she pours her own coffee, but Julia only offers nods and shakes of her head in response, her expression soft. With a sigh so heavy that it’s visible from here, Irina’s head dips and she trudges toward the door.
When she slides it open and steps through, she stares at me for long moments. I wonder for too long if she’s going to approach me before she finally does.
“I don’t remember Mom and Dad,” she tells me, dropping into the space next to me with her fingers wrapped tightly around the mug held between her hands. “I remember loving them and being sad when they died, but I forgot their voices a long time ago, and memories are…foggy.”
My brow stitches together as I pull a sip from my mug, which I believe is likely Julia’s. It’s too pink and too shimmery for it to be something that Tripp would ever use.
“I can tell you about them,” I offer, but her head shakes in response.
“What I remember is you comforting me when I cried and moving my bed into your room for six months because I couldn’t sleep on my own,” she tells me. “You weren’t even out of high school and you dropped your entire life to give me one. And don’t tell me it was an easy choice, because that isnotan easy choice.”
Dropping her head to the side with a sigh, it lands on my shoulder, and I lift an arm to snake around her body with a firm squeeze.
Quiet surrounds us with the passing of a balmy breeze through the palms in the alleyway. It leaves us in the same breath that heaves from my sister’s chest.
“I think you have a lot of love to give,” she says as she pushes herself back into a sitting position. “It’s one of the things Iadmire about you – really, I think it’s great how freely you give it. But Connie, if this doesn’t work out the way you think it will; like the last time didn’t…I think the way you give that love can sometimes put you in situations that are set up to hurt you.”
Her head shakes, twisting away from me before she draws a small sip from the coffee in her hands.
“I like having two partners,” I tell her. “I like having someone that I love in each of my hands and having someone to love every part of me in different ways. This isn’t a cry from some wound in my psyche; it’s safe and I’m happy, so you have to stop diagnosing me and let me worry about it, okay?”
A hand lands at the top of her head to muss the hair tied into a bun which explodes into waving tendrils of ginger. Pulling the sleeve of her sweatshirt over her fist, she wipes it against her nose with a roll of her red-tinted eyes.
“I’m not licensed to diagnose you yet,” she grumbles. My face scrunches as she kisses me on the cheek, but I return the gesture with one of my own pressed against her head. “I don’t want to see you hurt any more. I want you to be happy.”
“Then you have to take me at my word when I tell you that I am,” I ask of her.
She studies me as we move to a standing position, sniffing with her lips pressing together before she envelops me in a hug. I rest my chin against the top of her head, rubbing my free hand against her back.
“This coffee is really gross,” she mumbles against my chest.
“I’ll get you something from the place down the street in the morning,” I tell her with a laugh.
Julia is waiting for us when we step back into the house, leaned against the kitchen counter and wearing an apprehensive smile that she forces to meet her eyes. It’s hard not to feel warm as her arms open widely and Irina accepts the quiet invitation tofall into them. In an instant, a longstanding friendship lost for only minutes is rekindled.
With one last look in my direction as they part from each other, worry etches itself behind the lopsided grin that she offers me, but she brushes it away, choosing instead to trek back into the living room where her boyfriend is still in a deep sleep on the couch.
Julia’s finger hooks itself into the waistband of my pants, tugging me closer to her as she looks up at me through her lashes. A quiet walk up the stairs together takes us to the bedroom, where Drumstick and Koda have each made themselves a quiet resting place in corners of the room, huddled near boxes that will need to be unpacked.
Tripp is asleep on his stomach, his arm outstretched into the empty space that belonged to his wife. He’s kicked the blankets off of his body almost completely, leaving only the heel of one foot covered with bedding and his black-and-white boxers on display.
With Julia’s hand at my back, she guides me to the center of the mattress, where Tripp’s body shifts to welcome me. I’m sandwiched firmly between them as Julia’s body joins ours, and the soft skin of her hands slides against my stomach to dip just beneath my waistband as her cheek presses against my back.
Too normal too fast.
