Page 49 of Finding the One (River Rain #7)

“I don’t know. I just…you don’t sound good.”

There you go.

I failed at sounding like everything was okay.

“I liked him. He was the first guy I liked since Chad,” I admitted. “It sucks but it didn’t work out. I’m…upset.” Ding! Ding! Ding! Understatement of the Year! “I’ll eventually get over it.” And that was a lie.

Alasdair Wallace was a man you didn’t get over.

“I thought you two…”

She didn’t finish that.

I thought “us two” too.

“I’ll be okay,” I lied.

Never.

I’d never been okay.

And losing Dair, who I’d stupidly cast as my redeemer, I never would be.

I was just me.

And that wouldn’t change.

So I had no choice.

I had to get on with it.

“Anyway, if you want to talk, you know how to get me,” she offered.

“I do, Alex. Thanks. And I’ll be coming home soon.”

“I think that’s probably good. Why don’t you come out here? Rix and I are fighting about nursery stuff. He’s buying band posters for a nursery . I need you on my side.”

I almost smiled at that, and fortunately, that sentiment could be heard in my voice when I said, “I’ll get out as soon as I can.”

“I love Rage Against the Machine, but I don’t need their poster over my kid’s crib.”

I forced out a laugh and it didn’t sound entirely fake.

“I love you, Blake,” she said.

God, she was always a better person than me.

“I love you too, little sister.” I quickly changed subjects. “Everything going okay with Rix and the baby?”

“Outside the nursery issue, Rix and I are great. My morning sickness lasts until the afternoon, which is unfun. I’m keeping my fingers crossed I’ll be one of those pregnant women who move out of that when I move into my second trimester.”

“I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you. And we’ll need to start talking about your shower, which I, of course, will be hosting.”

I was pleased to hear the humor was back in her tone when she replied, “Of course.”

“If Gal and Katie want in on that action, we can co-host. I’ll text them.”

“Awesome.”

“All right, I’ll let you go,” I said.

“Okay, honey. I’m so sorry about you and Dair. Take care of yourself and call me if you need me.”

“Will do.”

“Later.”

“Alex?” I stopped her.

“Right here,” she said.

I closed my eyes.

I opened them again and said, “I don’t know if I ever apologized for being such a bitch to you pretty much our whole lives.”

There was a moment of silence before she said, “I thought we got over this that day in Mum’s bedroom.”

“We did, kind of,” I replied. “I just think the words need to be said.”

“What brings this up?” she asked suspiciously.

“I just…it’s important you know I understand how awful I was to you.”

There was another moment of silence before she said, “Fellow captives, remember?”

“I remember but…no excuse.”

“Blake, we’ve been over this, we were kids ,” she said staunchly. “I removed myself from the dysfunction, mentally, and whenever I could, physically. Which meant the brunt of it was focused on you. It should be me who’s apologizing.”

God, my sister was so awesome.

“Hardly,” I replied.

“The point I’m making is, yeah, you were a mean girl.

No, it didn’t feel good. But I understand why you were ,” she stressed.

“And the minute I reached out a hand with any real intent to fix what was broken with us, you took hold.” I could hear the humor in her tone when she finished, “And you did it with some serious panache.”

One could say I definitely did that.

“Does this have something to do with what happened with you and Dair?” she queried.

Yes!

“I’ve just been thinking on things.” And that wasn’t a lie.

“Well, stop thinking on that. I love you. I love talking to you. I love spending time with you. I love eating your food.”

A surprised laugh erupted from me.

“I just love you, Blake,” she said. “It may have taken us a while, but I’m going to say this again, and this time I hope it gets through. You’re the best big sister a girl could have. I just hope I’m the same in the little sister department.”

I was choked up when I replied, “You are. You absolutely are.”

“Good.”

Enough of this.

I’d done her dirty my whole life (almost), I didn’t need to put her in the position of making me feel better about it.

That said, she’d made me feel better about it.

And I guessed that was what sisters did.

They were there for each other and made each other feel better about things.

And only then did I realize, this was how it was done, if you were doing it right.

Another way of doing it right was understanding it wasn’t all about you. She had a life and a job to get to, and I was on a mission, so it was time to wrap this up.

“I’ve got about ten thousand more items of clothing, jewelry, shoes and accessories to go through so I can get home. I better get on it.”

“Okay,” Alex replied. “Are you good?”

No, I was one thousand percent not.

I didn’t lie to her about that.

I said, “I will be.”

“Okay, I’ll reiterate, I’m just a phone call away.”

Totally loved my little sister.

“Thanks, Alex.”

“Anytime, Blake. Love you. And later.”

“Love you too. Bye.”

I went away from that one relatively unscathed.

The next one came the next morning.

Dad.

“You and Alasdair have split up?” he asked without greeting after I answered the phone.

“Dad—”

“What’s the matter with him?”

“Nothing. We just…it didn’t work out.”

“With the way you two seemed, I thought I’d be paying for another wedding. One, like your sister’s, I was happy to write checks for. Though, I didn’t mind paying for your first, since it ended so splendidly.”

God, I loved my dad.

“Yes, well, I don’t know what to say. We just, like I said, didn’t work.”

Dad was silent.

I thought he was contemplating the fact his first-born child was going to die alone, and before she was lowered into her grave behind the family chapel, her boy toy was going to make off with the family heirlooms.

But at the sound of his voice when he asked, “Did he hurt you?” I knew he was instead contemplating the fact he might have to commit a murder.

Did Dair hurt me?

Suggesting I attended a little girl’s funeral for the photo op?

Fuck yes.

But frankly?

Dair’s question was no less than I deserved.

“There’s a lot of history with this. Between him and me. Not to mention Mum and Bally. It was insane to start with. I think we’ll both eventually come to terms with that.”

And what I said was only a hint of a lie.

“ Eventually? ” Dad asked.

“I can’t?—”

“Darling. Come home. Catch the first flight tomorrow. I’ll buy your ticket.”

“I’m almost done here. When I am, I’ll be home. A couple more days.”

“I don’t like this,” he groused.

I didn’t either.

“I’m okay, Dad. Promise.”

I was such a liar.

“A couple more days, Blake, then I want you home. With me. Not your mother’s place. Here. With me and Marlo.”

Was there news?

“You and Marlo?” I snooped.

“She’s moving in, not moved in, but moving in,” he announced.

Yes, there was news.

And finally, it was good news.

Seemed like Dad was very much done putting the brakes on him and Marlo and now was full steam ahead.

I was all for it.

“That’s great,” I said.

“I’m glad you think so. But the fact you texted her more after we left London than you did me, I already guessed that. I will add, however, that she’s concerned too, since those texts stopped, and we now know why.”

“I’ll be home. Soon. And you can see for yourself I’m fine.”

This meant I had to start eating (bluh). I was losing weight.

And I had to figure out how to start sleeping (yikes!), since I’d probably averaged around three hours a night since it happened.

On the bright side, I was a dab hand with concealer.

“Text with your flight details,” Dad ordered. “I’ll send a car.”

That meant he’d be in the car.

I made a mental note to put the concealer in my carry-on.

“Okay, Dad.”

“I love you, Blake. Very much. You understand that, don’t you?”

Who knew it was harder to be loved than to be a total waste of space and do all sorts of crap not to be loved because you’d learned that the person who was supposed to love you the most—namely, your mother—didn’t love all that great.

So you did everything in your power to keep everyone who might hurt you far, far away.

And it sucked to say much the same about Dad, but until the Act of Chad, he’d left me to it.

So there was that.

God, I needed therapy.

Inpatient.

For about five years.

“I understand it, Dad. And I love you too.”

“I’m proud of you as well. You’re a good kid.”

Unexpectedly, the tears hit.

“Don’t make me cry,” I said throatily.

“Crying is good. Feel your emotions, darling. This family doesn’t bury them anymore. Now, I love you, I’m proud of you, and I’ll let you go.”

He suddenly sounded distracted.

“Okay, Daddy. Again, love you too. Bye.”

“Goodbye, my darling.”

I’d learn why he was distracted when I barely let the tears begin to fall, deciding feeling numb was a whole lot better than feeling this , and my phone was ringing again.

This time, Marlo.

I did the time zone calculations in my head, and surmised they were having breakfast or something before they took off for their days.

I sniffed hard to pull myself together and took the call.

I forced my tone to chipper. “Hey, Marlo.”

“Your father isn’t in hearing distance. I was listening in while you two were talking. I told him I wanted to speak to you so that’s why he ended the call so abruptly. And we’re still getting used to this together thing so it didn’t occur to him he could just hand me his phone.”

That was funny, and cute, so I let out a little laugh before I said, “Okay.”

“I know we don’t know each other very well, but I also know we both have the same equipment, and the same sexual preferences, so I’ll share now, until I met your father, I’d been through my fair share of assholes. Including a marriage that was not a barrel of laughs.”

That was particularly forthcoming.

“Um…okay.”

“In other words, if you need a sounding board, or a shoulder to cry on, or advice from someone who’s been there, this is me extending the official invitation.”

Oh shit.