My brother was slouched on the sofa. It was the first morning since he had come that he wasn’t in the kitchen making breakfast. The presence of all three of my pets crowding in on the cushions with him would have been a tip-off, had his dejected face not said it first.
I approached. “Not good?”
“Nope.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing much.”
I waited for him to go on. It wasn’t like Liam to be stingy with words. “And?”
“No chemistry.”
It took me a minute. “Ah.” Erica Kahn must not have wanted sex, which meant he’d been hit where it hurt.
“Yeah. Ah.” He glanced toward the stairs. “You, obviously, do not have that problem.”
“No, but I have so many others—” I stopped. This wasn’t about me. Compassion wasn’t a competition. I touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Liam. It’s her loss.”
He grunted. “That doesn’t really help, y’know.”
“How about breakfast? How about I make it for you this time?” I wanted only to make him smile.
He didn’t smile. But he did show interest. “That depends. “What are you making?”
“Fried eggs.”
He raised his brows. “And…?”
I tried to think what I had. “Ham?”
“That’s supposed to cheer me up? Fried eggs and ham issoDr. Seuss.”
“It’sGreen Eggs and Ham,” I corrected on a wave of nostalgia. Lily had loved that book. She had “read” it to me before she even learned how to read.
If the ache I felt showed, Liam wouldn’t have noticed. He was looking past me toward the stairs. Edward was coming down with the phone to his ear and a frown on his face. He wore boxer shorts and nothing else, clearly unconcerned with Liam’s being there.
“She’s not talking to media,” he said into the phone then, “Yes, you said that, but how do I know for sure?” He listened as he approached me and inhaled to speak, only to hold his breath when whoever it was went on. As he listened, his eyes flicked to mine and half-mouthed, “Area code 860. Says it’s personal.”
860 was my mother’s area code. But it sure wasn’t my mother. If it were, Edward wouldn’t be looking puzzled. He wouldn’t be asking questions. He’d be handing the phone over ASAP.
I looked to Liam for a clue. His eyes were apprehensive, but they stayed firm on Edward, who began to repeat, like it was part of the conversation, what he was hearing so we would know.
“You’ve been trying to reach Liam and can’t get through,” he said, eying first my brother, then, after a pause, me. “You don’t know how to reach Mackenzie.” Another pause, eyes downcast now. “No, my number hasn’t changed.”
The person at the other end was upset. I could hear that much.
Finally, loud enough to get her attention, he said, “Okay. I believe you. Let me see what I can do. What did you say your name was?”
19
Edward held the phone to his ear for a last minute before lowering it out of voice range and asking me a skeptical, “Do you know an Annika Allen?”
I didn’t.
But the lowFuck!behind me said Liam did. My eyes flew to his in time to see embarrassment. “She’s Mom’s assistant,” he said, but the guilt slipping over his face told more. Annika Allen was Liam’s relationship that had ended badly. Ofcourse,she’d been trying to reach him. Ofcourse,he hadn’t answered.
The question—not reassuring at all—was why she was calling to speak with me, on Edward’s phone, no less.
