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“Anything?” This seemed to spark some interest in her.
“Within reason.”
“Within reason?” One delicate brow rose up, almost as if in challenge. “What does that mean?”
“It means if it’s out of bounds, I’ll let you know.” I could see the wheels turning in her mind and it made me suddenly wish I hadn’t said a damn thing. “But since you asked, I don’t usually talk about my personal life when I’m working.”
She hummed under her breath in thought. “Just to be clear, do you mean personal, as in your childhood and your sister? Or personal, as in wife and kids? Or is personal to you things like your favorite color and favorite flavor of ice cream?” She bit her lip against a smile. “I just want to be sure I don’t screw up here.”
Something about that saucy smile got to me. It crawled under my skin and ignited a fire deep in my veins, making me want to poke her right back, no matter the consequences, disavowing my promise to myself just moments before to rein it in.
Slowly, I set my fork down and folded my arms across my chest, giving her my undivided attention, knowing it unnerved her. “Well, Ms. Creed,” I said, emphasizing her name slowly. “Typically, by personal, I would mean all of those things. But you make an excellent point. I am staying here in your home, which I don’t usually do when I’m working. So... no, I’m not particularly close to my parents. Long story, I won’t bore you with the details. My sister died when she was sixteen in a car accident, and it devastated all of us. I’m divorced, no kids. At the risk of being a walking, talking cliché, my favorite color is blue. And what was that last one? Favorite ice cream? Butter pecan.”
Her mouth fell open in shock but she quickly snapped it closed and tilted her head, her eyes sparking in humor. “Butter pecan? Really?”
Of all I’d just divulged, rather than probe any wounds, she chose to be playful. I was relieved and offered her a grateful smile. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. If you’re eighty.”
I barked out a laugh. “Really? It’s the nectar of the gods, I’ll have you know.”
“Okay, grandpa.”
“And what’s your favorite? Bubble gum? Birthday cake?”
“Are you mocking me, big guy?”
“Never.” I shook my head. “So, what is it? Cookie dough?”
“I’ll have you know I’m a plain Jane chocolate kind of girl, thank you very much.”
“Really?”
“Really. You got a problem with that?”
“Not a thing. There’s nothing wrong with the classics.”
“I might share some of my ice cream with you just for saying that.” Her smile was warm as she rose and took our empty plates away.
“Generous,” I said, watching the sway of her hips as she walked.
“That’s me,” she shot over her shoulder.
And she was serious. She dished up bowls of chocolate ice cream for both of us, then alternated spoonfuls for Elizabeth between her own bites.
“So . . .” I said. “Your turn.”
“My turn?” She reached over and wiped Elizabeth’s face with a napkin, getting most of the chocolate ring around her lips. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t you think it’s time you told me the truth?”
Her hand fell but she didn’t meet my eyes. She knew exactly what I meant. The truth we’d been dancing around since the moment she handed me that note. The big, fat multicolored elephant that was dancing circles around us and juggling knives.
“He didn’t care about...” Her voice dropped, choked. “Us.” Her eyes finally lifted to mine, heavy with emotion as she whispered. “I’ve had a hard enough time with the shame of what I did back then. I’m just not able to wrap my mind around...” Her words fell away as if it was too much.
“You don’t have to wrap your mind around anything or worry about it. That’s why I’m here,” I said, my voice low but firm. “Just give me the details and I’ll take care of it.”
Elizabeth, sensing her mother’s distress, grabbed for her hand and began to wiggle to be held. Olivia finished cleaning her up and lifted her from the chair. She faced me, her expression one of fierce maternal protection. Without words, it was clear she would give me what I needed, but that Elizabeth was to be spared.