“Whit is…well, he’s great, but don’t tell anyone I said that. He’s sound, you know? Dependable. He just has really high standards. Much higher than mine.”
I bite my tongue from answering ouch.
“I always feel like such an idiot next to him because he’s so clever. Of course, I think about the stuff that went on withJulian. I behaved so badly afterward. I still have all this residual cringe.”
“You were sexually assaulted,” I growl, tightening my hold on her hand as though I could get her to understand the strength of my feelings for her simply by my hold. “Your behavior was a trauma response. If he knew—”
“But he won’t ever know. None of them will. I can cope with their derision but not with their pity. I’m not going to cause them regret because they would. They’d feel responsible, and they’re not. I’m not going to hurt them. Raif?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can you stop squeezing my hand?”
“Sorry.” I loosen but don’t let go, rubbing her fingers instead.
“You must’ve gone to Polly Whittington's school of hand squeezing.”
My fucking heart—her concern for others feels like an arrow through it. I want to stand at the top of The Shard and shout to the heavens how fucking unfair it is that she suffers so others don’t. I want to yell it in the faces of those who love her, tell them of the ways they’ve failed her, though I know it’s not truly their fault.
Would she think the same if she knew the reasons behind our marriage?
“What was that?”
“Hm?”
“Your face.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“For a minute, it looked like you were suffering from some intestinal distress. Do you actually have IBS?”
39
LAVENDER
“Right, well, the numbers look great.”Whit reaches for his wineglass before leaning back in his. “Really great.”
“Yeah, but you knew that before you got here.” I give a little shrug, nudging my tablet a little with my knuckle. My brother brought his laptop, and his phone is on silent, which told me all I needed to know about his house call.
“How could I have known? I’ve been on a sabbatical.” His brows lift as he brings his glass to his lips.
We’re sitting at the breakfast nook after declining Raif’s offer to use his home office. Whit, Mimi, Gus, and Belle arrived in a flurry of cheek kisses, cuddles, and effusive introductions. Whit and Raif were a lot more sedate in their greetings—gruff hellos and solid, manly handshakes—though both men’s demeanors thawed when Daisy appeared in all her shy loveliness. Even the Irish twin hooligans toned it down a notch. In fact, I think Gus might have the beginnings of his first crush.
They’d arrive later than I’d originally anticipated after Mimi had called this afternoon, politely turning my offer of dinner down.
“A meal is meant to be enjoyed, not endured,” she’d said with a stuttering laugh. “A meal with our two monsters has become a feat of endurance lately.”
“They’re notthatbad.” I was probably being polite.
“They’re worse than bad after our mammoth vacay. Too many late nights and too many treats. Of course, I blame the parents. Mine, I mean. I swear, they’d made a bet to see who could be the number one grandparent. “What was that, honey?” she said, impersonating her mother’s voice.“Can you have more candy? Well, of course you can! I’m your favorite, right?”Seriously, these kids are feral, so let’s not frighten your new hubs from the potential joys of parenthood.”
My laughter sounded like machine-gun fire. “Didn’t anyone tell you he kind of already is?”
“Is already what?”
“A parent.”
“Ack! Yeah, sorry! I totally forgot. Jet lag mommy brain. His niece, right?”
