Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112449 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 562(@200wpm)___ 450(@250wpm)___ 375(@300wpm)
“He’s not here. He let me borrow it. There was an emergency and mine is in the shop.”
“Emergency? What happened?”
“Rainey happened,” she said, throwing her arms around me.
“I swear I’m not an emergency. Just a wardrobe malfunction.” I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Rainey de Souza.”
“Rainey, this is my mom, Nora.”
“Charmed, dear.” She shook my fingers, still fixed on Paris. “Why would you borrow your brother’s car, Paris? You know you can take one of ours. Is he coming over to get it? Every time Cairo comes into this house, it is such chaos. He always picks a fight with Isaac.”
“You mean the home-wrecker that whisked his mother and sister away in the middle of the night and refused to consider split custody of him?”
“Paris,” she cried. “That’s your father you’re speaking about.”
“That changes what I said how? Cairo hates Isaac. Isaac hates Cairo. The feeling is entirely mutual,” she said. “The picking fights goes to both sides.”
Paris had a pretty firm hold on me, or I’d have drifted out of the room a long time ago.
“It’s darling how you stick up for him, but Cairo is responsible for his own actions, and his behavior when he steps in this house. When he comes by to get the car, I will not have any nonsense.” She stuck out her hand. “Give me your phone.”
“Mom, please, no. Cairo’s going to stop giving me his number if you keep using my phone to call him.”
Nora flushed deep red. “I’m his mother, I have every right to call him. Phone. Now, young lady.”
Goodness, that authoritative bark is genetic.
Mumbling under her breath, Paris handed her phone to her mother.
Nora marched out, answering “Hello?” on the click of the lock.
“Ugh. Is family like this for everyone? Dad thinks Cairo is a behavioral problem and bad influence on me. Cairo winds him up because he won’t forget for a second that my dad stood up and flatly said in court that Jack was to have full custody of him and he wouldn’t even do weekends. And Mom forgot how to talk to Cairo a long time ago. All they do is argue, then they weren’t even doing that ’cause Cairo blocked her number and stopped coming over for dinner.
“Now she takes my phone and uses bullshit like borrowing his car as an excuse to speak to him. But, of course, she doesn’t use the time before he hangs up to say what she really wants to say.”
“What does she really want to say?” I asked softly.
Paris’s eyes filled. “That she’s sorry. She can’t say it because...”
“Because saying sorry means admitting to yourself you did something wrong,” I finished. “The words are easy. It’s what comes with it that lets years go by unsaid.”
“Yeah.” She laid her cheek on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I said all of that. You’re dealing with enough. No need to throw my family drama on top.”
“Don’t say that. We’re friends.” As much as I didn’t want it at first, I couldn’t deny it. Someone who wasn’t your friend didn’t rant for a thirty-minute car ride on their brother’s treatment of you, and that they’d defend you.
“Family is like this for everyone. With Ivy—” Pain crept into my temples. I rubbed it away, wishing the memories went as easily. “My sister and I got into a fight, and now she refuses to speak to me. I can’t blame her, though. I was wrong.” My voice grew thick. “In every way, I was wrong for how I treated her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness till I give an apology she can trust.”
Paris rubbed my arms. “It can’t have been that bad,” she said, pulling me in for a hug. “This is what siblings do. They fight. They literally try to kill each other. But you make up because no one is going to understand you like they do.”
I swiped a stray tear away. “Damn, we like to get heavy. Should I write you that check for therapy now?”
“Nah, you can give it to me at the end of the week.” She popped a kiss on my cheek. “Did you get any breakfast between all that drama? Our housekeeper makes a fresh batch of muffins every morning. Interested?”
“Interested? There’s a very good chance I’m not going to save any for you.”
“Oooh,” she crowed, backing toward the door. “How you gonna do that when”—Paris took off running—“I’m getting to them first!”
I chased her out the door, laughing my head off.
After a breakfast of delicious fresh-baked muffins, Nora told us to drive her second car to campus, leaving Cairo’s on the curb. I saw it for the obvious attempt to lure her son there that it was, and damned if I didn’t feel bad for both of them. It was a hard, difficult road for them to end up where they were.