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“I hope so.” She looks suddenly vulnerable. “But isn’t that what everybody thinks about their baby? That they’ll do it all right. They won’t make the same mistakes their parents made.” She pulls her lip between her teeth. “But what if I do it all wrong?”
“You won’t.” I don’t even hesitate. “You’re going to be the best mom. And Parker is going to be an amazing dad. It’s not like you don’t have experience. You pretty much mothered me for most of my life.”
Autumn lets out a soft laugh, but her eyes stay fixed on the horizon. “Is that why you keep avoiding me? Am I too much?”
Oof. “No. It’s not you.” I let out a long breath. “The last few weeks have been…”
“I don’t mean the last few weeks. I mean the last few years. You’ve done your best to be anywhere but here. The way Asher has to practically send out an army of mercenaries to track you down. It’s like you only show up when we force you. And even then, you’re halfway out the door.”
Her voice isn’t accusing. It’s soft. Sad. And somehow that makes it worse.
I stare at my half-eaten sandwich, the taste of goat cheese and lemon suddenly too sharp on my tongue.
“I know,” I whisper. “And I hate that I’ve made you feel that way.”
Before I can say anything else, my throat tightens. My eyes sting. And tears start to fall. I’m not a crier. I don’t sob, I don’t show my emotions.
And yet here I am, crying into a crusty sandwich on the beach like a hormonal cliché.
Autumn doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t need to. She just pulls me into her arms and holds me tight, like she used to when we were little and I scraped my knee or had a nightmare.
Her embrace is warm and steady, her hand stroking my hair. God, it feels good.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into her shoulder. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be emotional.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” she murmurs. “I’m here, sweetie. You just have to let me in.”
I nod, because I don’t trust myself to speak.
She pulls back slightly, brushing a tear from my cheek with her thumb. “So…” Her voice softens even more, like she knows I need a change of subject. “Is this about Bennett?”
I blink. “Bennett?”
“You know who I’m talking about.” She rolls her eyes at me. “The guy you’ve been parading around town with and ignoring my messages about.”
I pull back and shake my head. “No. It’s not Bennett. It’s West.”
Autumn frowns in the way only a big sister can. “What did he do this time?”
There’s a lump in my throat as big as a boulder. I promised I wouldn’t say anything. And I hate breaking promises. But this is killing me. “I’ve fallen for him.”
For a moment Autumn says nothing. The only sound is the soft lapping of the waves against the shore.
“Wait,” she says, shaking her head like she must have misheard. Or maybe she hopes she did. “You and…West? You’re a thing? Or is it just one sided. Please tell me you haven’t slept with him.”
“Don’t say it like that.”
She groans. “Like what? Like it’s unbelievable? Like I can’t believe my baby sister is hooking up with a guy almost twice herage?” She frowns. “Oh sweetie, no. You can’t do this. Not with West. He’s everything you hate. All smooth and sophisticated and completely amoral.”
“I know.” There’s a half sob stuck in my throat. “But he’s not like that. Not really.”
Her eyes hold mine. “He is.”
“And he’s not too old. He’s the same age as Parker, and you’re married to him.”
“West is a hundred years older than Parker in every way. Sometimes I think he has a painting in an attic somewhere. Honey, you can’t fall for him.” She leans forward, another thought occurring to her. “Does he know how you feel?”
Inappropriate laughter bubbles in my throat. “That I’m falling for him?” I shake my head. “I haven’t told him.”
