“Can you … will you tell me why?”
I nodded. “That’s why I asked you to come. I’m sorry about how I treated you on Saturday. Sorrier than I can say. It wasn’t about you. My instincts took over, and I wasn’t thinking rationally.”
Arran nodded, his expression soft, concerned.
“I never want to treat you like that again. I’m sorry.”
“Ery, I accept your apology. And I’m sorry for snooping.”
Tears burned my eyes at his grace. “You weren’t snooping. You’re my boyfriend. You should be able to look for a damn towel without getting thrown out.”
His lips twitched with amusement, but his eyes were still filled with wariness.
Preparing myself to unleash the truth, I sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, my lips trembling. I could already feel the tears, and I really wanted to get through this without becoming hysterical. It had just been such a long time since I told my story.
“Can I get you anything?” Arran asked. “A glass of water?”
Lord, he was the sweetest man. “I’m all right. Thanks. Do you need anything?”
He smiled tenderly. “Just you, gorgeous.”
I ached at his words.
Band-Aid.
Rip it off like a Band-Aid.
“I had a sister who died,” I told him, fighting back the emotion. “Kia. She was my twin.”
Shock slackened his features. “Ery,” he whispered, sounding heartbroken for me.
And that there, knowing how much he cared, gave me strength to continue. I lifted the lid off the trunk and moved aside some trinkets to take out the photo album. Handing it over to him, I said, “We were born in Chicago. Raised by our mom.”
Arran flipped open the album and looked through the baby pictures of me and Kia. We grew into teenagers in that photo album.
“We didn’t know who our father was. I don’t remember Mama talking about him, and then she … she died when we were only six. Crossed a busy street without looking. I only have vague memories of her now.”
His gaze lifted from the album. “I’m so sorry.”
Remembering what happened to his mom, I shrugged sadly. “You and I have something in common, I guess.”
“I wish it wasn’t that,” he whispered.
“Me too.”
“Who’s this?” He raised the album and pointed.
“Granny.” I smiled. I couldn’t help but feel happy and sad when I thought of her. “She’d moved out of Chicago before we were born. Her sister had money, and she left Granny her place in LA when she died. Granny had a difficult relationship with Mama, so she put distance between them. But when Mama died, Granny came and took us back with her.”
“So you grew up in Los Angeles?”
“Yeah. It was a good life with Granny. She was strict but kind. She raised us with respect and affection, and I often wondered if Mama was really the problem in their relationship because I loved my grandmother. She was my hero. I would have done anything for her. Kia too. Even though she and I were different in so many ways, our love for Granny was immeasurable.” Thoughts of my sister and grandmother opened gaping, raw cracks inside me. I rubbed the spot on my chest where it hurt the most, moisture blinding my vision momentarily.
“It feels like they were part of a past life. Kia. Granny. When Granny died, I felt like I lost my anchor. When Kia died, it changed me fundamentally.” My tears slipped down my cheeks, and Arran’s eyes grew bright with his own. “It was like someone stole a piece of me. Like I wasn’t whole anymore.”
“Ery …”
I waved him off because if he touched me, I’d break.
“I was the shy one. Quiet, you know. Kia was outgoing and social and all my friends were Kia’s friends. Not that I needed them. She was my best friend. Plus, Granny always told me I had a sixth sense about people, ever since I was a child. As I got older, I thought she was right. I could tell if someone was playing me false or if they weren’t being their authentic self with me, and I didn’t like it. Granny told me to always trust that feeling, and I did. Only a few times in my life had it ever failed me. Lucy was one of those times. She was a damn fine actress.
“Anyway, Kia didn’t have that sixth sense as Granny called it. She’d make friends with anyone, and I wanted to protect her from that, but I was also jealous she could just throw herself into friendships so easily.” I reached for the pointe shoes. “Granny signed us both up for dance classes when we moved to LA as a distraction from losing Mama. Tap, ballet, street. I fell in love with ballet and Kia with street. I was so cripplingly shy, though, and some days I wanted to quit because I didn’t like the attention, even though I loved dancing.”