“Burn me three times, he must be really hot,” Violet winks.
She wraps her arm around me and says the first thing she’s said today that makes sense. “Let’s grab that other bottle of wine and get back to work.”
Ford
THE SOUND OF THE DOOR shutting echoes through the foyer of Graham’s house. I march through the marbled hallway towards the lights in the back. The house smells like cilantro and pepper and it makes my stomach rumble. After the shock of the afternoon, I forgot to have lunch.
I’ve held myself back from calling Graham about Ellie today for three reasons. One, I needed to wrap my brain at least halfway around it before I faced their—meaning Mallory’s—onslaught. Two, I know they expected a call and it would drive them crazy not knowing what I was thinking. Three, I wanted to do this in person.
My self-restraint was worth it. The looks on their faces as I waltz into the kitchen is everything I imagined it would be. Shock. Anticipation. Maybe even a little fear.
So worth it.
Graham is standing behind the island, facing me, a large knife in one hand and a cutting board filled with vegetables in front of him. Mallory is at the stove, but quickly turns away from me like whatever she’s cooking is the most important thing in the world.
“How was your day?” I ask. Swiping a piece of cauliflower off the board, I head to the dine-in table. I don’t sit. I’m entirely too keyed up to relax.
My blood pulses through my veins at a heart-attack tempo. It’s not that I’m mad, because I’m not. Ellie is the reason I accomplished not even a piece of paper’s worth of work once I got back to the office. She’s why Hoda got to go home early today. It’s because I saw her that I feel like I’m walking on air and my b
rain is firing on all cylinders.
I set my gaze on my brother.
“I had a fine day,” Graham says carefully. “What about you?”
“My day was peachy.” I motion towards Mallory. “What about you, Mal? How did your day go?”
“It was good.” She tries to sound chipper, but I hear the stress in her tone. I almost laugh.
“I thought you would’ve called me today,” Graham says, looking at the green pepper in his hand.
“Why would you think that?”
“Oh, just . . . you know . . .”
“What you pulled today deserves way more than a phone call. This deserves a personal visit.”
Graham makes a face as he slices the pepper. He’s still trying to figure out how to play his hand, and I’m not giving him anything to go on. He’s frustrated—that’s clear. Curious, too. But I’m not about to make this any easier on him. It’s too much fun watching him squirm.
I start to speak again when we hear footsteps and it’s just a few seconds before Camilla comes in.
“Do any of you knock?” Graham asks, looking between Cam and I.
“You don’t at my house,” I point out.
“Or mine,” Cam says, also helping herself to the veggies in front of our brother. “I don’t even have the ability to go on a date without a series of questions. So, yeah, I think walking into your house is acceptable.” She crunches on a carrot. “How are you, Mallory?”
She looks over her shoulder at my sister before accidentally meeting my gaze. She turns back quickly to the stove. “Good,” she mumbles.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Swink?” I ask, using the family nickname for Camilla.
“Sure. But why?”
“I’ll be the one asking questions.” I stand tall and look at my brother. “I’d like to blame this on you, G, but I have a feeling the guilt lies . . . elsewhere.”
Mallory rolls her shoulders up and down but still doesn’t turn around. A grin tickles the corner of my lips, but I fight it. I don’t want to give them something to go on quite yet.
You could hear a pin drop as they await my next move.