As she grew older, the tears had come less and less, but she’d never been able to stop herself from rereading that single message time and again. She’d also never been able to stop the aching.
Eventually she’d get out of bed, shower, and put her clothes on. Then she’d grab her phone and delete that message. Within a month or so, she’d get a new phone or switch numbers.
Livvy leaned against the granite island and stared at the texts she’d sent Nicholas. For three days, she’d picked up her phone, determined to delete them. Each time, she’d simply reread the one-sided conversation, and put the damn phone down.
She traced her finger over each word she’d sent him, but instead of glass, she imagined she wastouching his warm forearm. It had been so long since she’d caressed him like that. They were always greedy and needy, not soft or slow.
Oh God, quit it.
She swiped the conversation to the right. Her thumb hovered over the Delete. Archiving the chat was largely symbolic. She had his number memorized. It hadn’t changed in ten years. It wouldn’t change anytime soon. God forbid the man had to cope with something like a brand-new number. It would upset his perfect world.
“Livvy?”
Livvy jumped at the booming, deep voice coming from the living room. Feeling oddly like she’d been caught doing something illicit, she shoved her phone into her pocket. “Yes, Aunt Maile. I’ll be right there.”
Livvy depressed the plunger on the French press and tried to let the scent of Kona calm her.
When she’d left home all those years ago, she’d had a couple years of art school and a tiny bit of experience working at her father’s family’s little café under her belt. That slight work history had been enough for her to get a job and pay the bills while she apprenticed part-time.
While she prepared two mugs on a tray, she mentally ran through what was in the fridge. She’d lost track of time while she did the laundry and ironing this morning, and she was behind on dinner preparation. She’d tried to use the stack of cookbooks to create nice meals when she wasn’t working, but so far, her mother had only picked atevery dish she made. Livvy didn’t entirely blame her—Jackson had been the twin who had hovered around the kitchen, eager to learn everything he could from their personal chef. Livvy had been much more interested in disappearing somewhere with a sketchbook.
Her hand shook as she poured the coffee and a little spilled on the counter. Son of a bitch. She set down the press and grabbed a towel, cleaning up the granite so it was gleaming again.
Sometimes she managed to go weeks without thinking of Jackson and worrying over where he was and whether he was okay. Curse Nicholas for so many reasons, but especially for bringing up her twin brother yesterday.
You weren’t cursing Nicholas in your bed last night.No, she’d been stifling his name on her lips as her fingers brought her body to swift climax. That was hardly new. She had enough Nicholas material in her spank bank that she could probably take care of herself forever.
But she wasn’t going to think about him now. That wasn’t what she was here for.
Livvy took a second to bundle her hair up on her head and picked up the tray of coffee, balancing it as she left the kitchen, using her elbow to knock open the swinging door. She was met with the sound of a cheering studio audience and the loud clicking of knitting needles, as well as the running patter of her aunt’s deep voice.
“Do you think these doctors on these shows have actual medical degrees or—?” Her aunt broke off,a grin creasing her round face. Livvy always got a slight pang in her heart when she looked at the woman. Maile Kane resembled Robert Kane, with the same dark hair and eyes and brown skin. She was large boned and sturdy, her shoulders broad and strong, her hands capable.
Her father’s younger sister had been a steady constant in Livvy’s life for forever, and never more so than after the accident. It had been Maile who had propped up her and her brothers during her father’s funeral; Maile who had tried to talk Tani out of selling her company shares for a pittance; Maile who had helped Livvy find a lawyer for Jackson when he was arrested for arson.
And once the charges against Jackson had been dropped, it had been Maile who had handed Livvy and her brother a few thousand bucks each and told them they could leave if they wished. No guilt necessary.
Livvy couldn’t help the guilt, but the money had tided her over through those first lean months. She’d spoken to Maile more over the past decade than her mother, but not by much. Never once had her aunt made her feel bad about that.
“Oh, Livvy, how nice, did you make us some coffee? It’s a little late, but you know I read this study that said you should drink a cup of coffee a day in order to maintain a good digestive system and also prevent cancer.”
“I did make coffee.” Livvy smiled at her aunt. As usual, Maile was dressed fashionably, in black jeans and an exquisite pink cashmere sweater, hershiny dark curls tumbling down her back. Livvy resembled her Japanese-American mother, but in everything else, including her love of dressing up, she could have been Maile’s daughter.
Livvy steeled herself to look at her mother, sitting on the couch, prepared for the hit of guilt and anxious need. Tani was patiently winding a ball of yarn for Maile, and didn’t glance up at her.
Her mother had been a celebrated beauty in her youth. Save for a streak of white in her hair, she hadn’t aged much, maintaining a smooth, unlined complexion and a fit figure. The metal walker next to the sofa seemed out of place.
The surgery they’d done on Tani’s hip had been minimally invasive—she’d been out of the hospital in a couple of days, before Livvy could even get to town. The first few days she’d been here, Livvy had matter-of-factly approached Tani to provide assistance in dressing and other basic matters, but she’d been straight-armed away fairly quickly.I can see to my own personal needs, Olivia.Since then, Tani had mostly only accepted help from her sister-in-law.
Gregarious, flighty Maile and distant, reserved Tani made an odd pair, but as far as Livvy could tell, they got along well, with Maile chattering and Tani listening. The two women had been living together since her mother had sold everything. This home, a wedding present from Tani’s father to Robert’s parents, wasn’t a mansion, but it was paid for, large enough for the two women and located in a quiet, safe cul-de-sac.
Tani had never talked finances with her daughter, but Livvy’d gleaned enough from their stilted conversations to determine that after she’d sold everything, even at a loss, Tani had amassed enough in savings to support both women. A good thing, since Tani had never worked outside the home. Maile occasionally talked about selling her knitted creations, but Livvy doubted they would cover all their bills.
Livvy skirted the leather couch and placed the tray on the table. She handed a mug to her aunt first. Maile took a sip. “Oh my, is this coconut milk?”
“It is. I thought you’d like it.”
Livvy picked up a mug to hand to her mother, but Tani shook her head. “No, thank you. I only drink my coffee black.”
