Twins Make Four

“What did he say?” Ian demanded.

“Nothing important,” I said, rolling my eyes again. “This isn’t a love story, Ian. You aren’t going to be able to live vicariously through me on this one.”

“I refuse to believe that,” Ian said dismissively. I could almost see him waving his hand impatiently. “What did he say?”

“He said he was sorry for my loss, that it was good to see me, that I looked beautiful… that kind of thing.”

“Swoon!” Ian said again.

“Don’t do that!” I snapped. “He didn’t mean it. He was just playing into some script in his head that he’s been carrying around. Logan left me, remember?”

“And then he came back,” Ian said.

“No, I came back and I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t.”

I sighed deeply and moved another step forward. It was almost my turn to order. I was ready to get off the phone with Ian, but I knew he wasn’t done talking.

“Piper,” Ian said. “Listen to me, okay? Don’t let this become one of those things you don’t deal with.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded.

“You hide,” he said bluntly. “It’s what you do when things get rough. You run. You hide. You avoid. You, Piper Prewitt, are an avoider.”

“I am not,” I argued.

“You are,” Ian insisted. “And that’s okay, because I get it. You’ve had to stay strong any way you could, but maybe it’s time to let your guard down.”

“With Logan?” I asked.

“Yes, with Logan,” Ian hissed. “Are you telling me you don’t have any questions for him? That you haven’t thought about him once over the past five years?”

“Of course, I have,” I said. “But…”

“But nothing,” he said quickly. “This is your chance, Piper. All the unanswered questions you have, go get answers for them. And please, this time, don’t be mean to him.”

“How do you know I was mean?”

“Weren’t you?”

I paused, not wanting to admit he was right. I sighed and closed my eyes for a fraction of a second.

“Ian,” I said weakly. “I was a total immature bitch.”

“I know,” he said.

“Next time you see him, be nice. Just talk to him. See what happens.”

“And you’re sure that won’t open doors that are better left locked?”

“It might,” he admitted. “But how will you know if you never take the chance to find out?”

“You’re annoying,” I told him.

“Don’t I know it,” he laughed.

“I gotta go,” I told him. “I’m next in line.”

“Don’t forget my scones,” he said. “Talk soon. Love ya.”