“Addie,”I call out to my sister as I walk up to her where she’s folding shirts on the display shelf where our merchandise is.
She turns to me, her deep brown hair whipping over her shoulder. “Yeah?”
I jerk my head toward the exit of the brewery and say, “Let’s go to lunch.”
She gives me a confused look, which I expected. When I’m at work, I don’t take lunch breaks. I’m constantly busying myself.
“What happened?” is all she says as she lays the neatly folded shirt on the shelf.
“Can’t a brother take his sister to lunch without there being a reason?” I splay my arms out.
“No,” she says flatly. “But, since it’s free food, sure.”
We head to the pizza place a few buildings down. You can smell the fresh bread and cheese the closer you get. They offer a full pan of pizza or individual slices. The individual slice itself is the size of a twelve-inch pan pizza. It was a hot spot to go to when the guys would get very drunk and stagger to the place at two in the morning.
Considering we are not twenty-one anymore, we haven’t done that in a long time. I open the door for Addie, and we are quickly slapped in the face with the smells. It’s a pleasure slap. One I would take to the face every day.
I tell her to pick a spot for us to sit, and I order two slices of pizza. When I get back to the table, pizza in hand, I grab the hot sauce and dab a generous amount over my slice. Heartburn be damned.
“So, what’s up? What’s this special lunch occasion for?” Addie takes a bite of her cheese, tomato, and spinach pizza.
I hold out a finger while I chew and swallow the piece I bit off. The spice hits and is mixed with the sausage, bacon, and tomato. Incredible.
“What I’m about to tell you, I need you to not freak out, okay?” I wipe my mouth with my napkin.
She sips on her drink through her straw and narrows her eyes toward me. “What did you do?”
I take another bite of my pizza, trying to delay what I’m about to tell her.
“Rowan?” she coaxes.
Thank God we’re in a public space.
“I went to see Dad. and Ellie came with me.” I wince.
Addie’s facial expression stays neutral, bored even. She doesn’t react immediately, so I’ll take that as a good thing.
“I went to his house and met his wife, Amy, who is very nice, by the way,” I say quickly.
Now her eyes are back to narrowing, but her lips don’t move or twitch. She leans her forearms on the table like she’s making sure she heard me.
“And we have four stepsiblings.” I give her a tight smile.
She angles her head at me and makes a facial expression that sends chills down my spine. My sister is an angel, but you don’t want to see her angry or passionate about something. It takes a lot to make her mad.
She doesn’t change her posture and keeps her head angled. She sits perfectly still when she says, “Rowan, why would you see him?” Her voice is deathly sweet voice.
Why do I feel like the young sibling who’s gotten in trouble with something?
“When Mom and Aunt Rosey told me he only lived three hours away, I don’t know, something in me needed to see him. I had to take the chance to ask him questions.”
“Did you get what you wanted out of it?”
“Yes.” I accentuate in a nervous tone.
“And you came back home happy?” Her face is still stoic.
I nod once, unsure where she’s going with this.
