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I nod slowly. “I’m sorry the two of you had to go through that. I’m sorry you felt the lack of money, and that she had to sacrifice the opportunity to study so you could follow your passion. I’m sorry your father fell ill and couldn’t get the care he needed. But I hope”—I clear my throat—“I hope I’ve helped to ease some of your lack since I married your sister.”
“I wasn’t convinced you were good for her. I thought she was moving from one unwanted marriage to another. She and Felix were never right for each other, but moving from the son to the father? You can imagine how that looked from the outside.”
I stiffen. Neither sister pulls any punches, apparently.
I nod slowly. “I’m aware of how Vivian will have to go through life with people judging her for marrying me.”
No one dares point that out to me, of course. Because I’m a man, and because I have the money to shut them down. But Raven doesn’t have that luxury. She has me, though.
“And if anyone dares say anything about her, I’ll destroy them so fast, they won’t know what hit them.”
She seems taken aback, then a small smile curves her lips. “How many people are you going to track down? There will always be somebody who’ll point a finger at you and be judgmental.”
I lean back in my seat. “It doesn’t matter how many people I have to silence, whether it’s through money or otherwise, I have the resources for it.”
Her eyes round. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that, though I appreciate the sentiment." She pushes a fingertip into her cheek. "It seems you care for my sister.”
“Of course I do."
“Do you love her?”
It’s my turn to be taken aback. I’m tempted to tell her it’s none of her business, but this is Raven’s sister we’re talking about. Someone she’s very close to, someone who deserves the courtesy of an answer to her question. I nod slowly. “I do”—I clear my throat—“I love her.”
She sits up straight. “Why don’t you tell her so? What are the two of you arguing about? Why are you trying to put distance between the two of you?”
“She told you that?” I frown.
“We’re sisters; we gossip. We know about each other’s lives. We like to share the intimate details.”
What the?—?
She must see the slight look of panic on my face, for she scoffs. “Not those intimate details. But you made her cry. I noticed that as soon as I saw her swollen eyes. Besides, she’s more reticent than usual when it came to details of her marriage. She insists she's happy, even though she doesn’t sound it. It’s why I realized something's up between the two of you. But it seems the two of you haven’t been open with each other. You love her. She loves you. What’s the problem?” She throws up her hands.
The look of exasperation on her face draws a chuckle from me. “It’s not that simple.” I rub the back of my neck.
Mary comes in with a plate, on it, there are two cookies. Thank God for the respite. It gives me a little time to figure out what I’m going to tell her. She places the cookies in front of Lizzie. “Enjoy, dear.” She turns and leaves.
Lizzie breaks off a tiny piece and places it on her tongue. Her face lights up. “Oh wow, that’s so good.” She takes a piece and chews on it before nodding at me. “You were telling me why it is that you feel the need to stay away from my sister and break her heart, even though you love her?”
I squeeze the bridge of my nose. "It’s complicated." I rise to my feet and begin to pace. "I figured I should give her space."
"Space?" she asks in a disbelieving voice.
"She has a big exhibition coming up and needs to focus on her paintings. It’s… Best I stay out of her way."
"Bull-fucking-shit." She pushes away her plate. “I might be young, but I wasn't born yesterday. Any fool can see the two of you are made for each other.” She holds up her hand. “I confess, I was skeptical about the marriage. But she sent me pictures of the two of you at your country home where you took her for your honeymoon, and you both looked so happy. And whenever she texted me, she sounded so upbeat. She told me she was no longer working at the pizza parlor but was focusing on her painting, and I knew she’d made the right decision. It doesn’t hurt that you have the cheese to support her career.”
Cheese? I frown, then smooth out my forehead. Oh, money.
“She also told me that you got our father onto a trial at Johns Hopkins, which could see a huge shift in his quality of life. For the first time in her life, she’s able to focus on herself and her painting. You made that possible, and I’m grateful to you for that—” she hesitates.
“I sense a 'but' coming on,” I murmur.
“—but you’re still an ass.”
“Thanks?” I roll my shoulders.
“That’s all you have to say?”
