Page 21 of Perfect Assumption

“You’re being affable.”

“Let’s just say I had a poor morning, and I was reminded about what was important.”

Her hand stops moving on the mouse. Her ponytail swishes as her head whips in my direction. Angie demands, “Tell me you didn’t pull a Becks before I have to rearrange the schedule.”

I choke on air. “Pull a Becks.”

“Yes.”

“Would you please explain what that means?”

“Did you do something so ridiculous I need to get your sister involved to keep the press from reporting it in a media frenzy so epic, it’s going to have its own hashtag by the end of the day? We also call these 9-1-1 situations, in case you were wondering.” Angie is poised to execute a series of maneuvers I’m certain she and Carys have practiced many times over.

But the explanation is glorious. And leaves me more confused than ever about the relationship between the titian-haired woman before me and the tattooed rock legend.

“No, Angie. I just need to apologize for being a jackass.”

“Oh. Do you need time for begging, or does there need to be pleading for mercy?”

“Excuse me?” I sputter.

Eyes twinkling, she points at the schedule. “I have an opening in ten if you want the next thirty after that. If you need more time than that, you’ll have to wait until three.”

I bark out a laugh. Without thinking, I lay my hand on top of hers and double-click the block for thirty minutes. “That should be good enough.”I hope.When Angie doesn’t move to finish the appointment, I prompt her. “Angie?”

She jolts as if I’ve just shocked her with a million bolts of lightning. “Yes. Sorry.” Her fingers fly across the keyboard. Seconds later, I get a notice on my phone of the meeting, which means Carys does too.

Quickly tugging the back of Angie’s hair, I say, “Thanks,” before heading to the doors.

Her faint “No problem” is whispered. I whirl around and find her watching me. Before I cross the threshold behind the heavy doors, I smile again.

She offers me a tremulous one in return before turning to face her desk.

A little voice inside me whispers,Are you sure about Becks? Because she’s awfully affected by you.Ridiculously cheerful by that thought, I stride through the door and open up my office before heading toward my sister’s.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,I feel like I’m in my first-year law class presenting during a mock trial. Carys is sitting behind her desk, fingers steepled while I stammer out an explanation for my behavior. Not that there is one beyond petty jealousy. And my ongoing anger at myself.

Finally, she pushes to her feet in her sky-high heels, still barely bringing her dainty height to my shoulder. “Let me get this right. You got your ego bent out of shape because of something I said over two years ago, and instead of talking to me about why, you’ve been aloof to everyone in this office.”

“I wouldn’t say that…” I begin.

“I would,” she snaps. “You’re just damn lucky it hasn’t affected your work, or I’d have rescinded the partner paperwork.”

Ouch. I rub my hand over my chest. I walk over to the window where a credenza is placed. “Is that what you want to do?”

“No, damnit. I want to know why you hold me responsible for being your parent after Mom and Dad’s deaths!” she yells.

I freeze and face my sister for my execution. “How could I hold you responsible for anything? You’re the one who should hold me responsible for them being in that car.”

“Ward, you are not responsible for their deaths.” Carys stalks up until we’re next to each other. She grips both of my arms and shakes me.

“If it wasn’t for me…they never should have been in that car.” I rush the words out.

“No, the man who was driving that other car never should have been drinking. I swear to you, Ward, I don’t blame you.” Carys’s eyes fill with tears.

“If I’d just said to wait for you, they’d still be alive,” I choke out.