Page 162 of With a Cherry On Top

“I swear.”

When she nods, I offer her a light smile. “I think I know why you didn’t tell me about Amelie.”

“I was afraid you’d end things.” She swallows. “Which now I know won’t happen.”

“No, it won’t.” I inhale, thinking about the hundreds of questions I have. “Have you ever met her? Amelie?”

“Never.”

Okay. “And . . . what do you expect will happen when you do?”

She gives me a once over. “Are you worried she’ll break my heart?”

“No, absolutely not. Amelie’s?—”

“Amelie and Beatrice talk on the phone, you know that?” she interrupts. “Maybe...once a month.” She turns her attention to the countertop, her fingers pressing into the metal. “Beatrice never told me about it. I only found out last year because I overheard them.”

I nod, my hatred for this woman growing with every single word out of Charlotte’s mouth.

“I confronted her about it, and you know what she said?” Charlotte’s voice is light, like she’s telling me about the weather. “She said she didn’t want me to be upset about Amelie not wanting to get to know me.”

I have no idea how to respond to that. It’s a lie—it has to be. I know Amelie. I know her heart. If she was aware she had a sister, she woulddemandto know her. She’s starved for family the same way Charlotte is starved for love.

I try to find the right way to approach this, to soften the jagged edges of this conversation without undervaluing the weight of it.

“What?” She fidgets with a dish towel. “Just say it, Aaron.”

Fucking emotions playing out on my fucking face.

“Have you ever considered that your mom could be lying?”

Her nose scrunches, and I can see the immediate instinct to dismiss the idea. But she doesn’t. Instead, she hesitates. And that hesitation tells me everything.

“Lying?” she repeats.

“About Amelie not wanting to know you. About her even knowing you exist.”

She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, I haven’t considered it. And I don’t want to consider it now.”

Though she doesn’t say it outright, the problem isn’t that she doesn’t believe her mom would do this. It’s that she doesn’t want to let herself hope. She’s afraid of getting hurt.

But she has me to rely on now.

“Well, I invite you to think of it this way.” I step closer, tucking a lock of her smooth hair behind her ear. “You know me. Do you think I could ever call someone like that my best friend?”

She studies me, searching my face for something. Maybe hope. “I guess you have a point.”

“I do,” I insist. “Amelie’s a wonderful person, and she?—”

Charlotte cups my mouth. “But I’d rather not count on it, if you know what I mean.”

I nod and she releases me, looking around the kitchen.

“She needs to know, Charlotte. I need to tell her about this. I know you’re afraid and you don’t want me to, but Ihave to.” Forget about how unprofessional what I’ve done is. Knowing Charlotte is Amelie’s sister brings this situation to a whole new level of messy. If she finds out about this before I tell her, she’ll be destroyed.

I interject once she opens her mouth. “It’s non-negotiable. But we’re still not walking out of here alone.”

Charlotte’s frown turns into a half smile, which is more than what I’d hoped for. “I understand.”