Page 40 of Letting Go at 40

“What about Mason?”

“What about him?” I snap, glaring at Amelia as she takes another sip of her lime-infused drink. Her sip prompts me to take a deeper swallow of my own margarita. When I set the glass down, my younger sister continues to stare at me. “What?”

“You what?” she argues back, mocking my single word question.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

I sigh. She’s exasperating. “It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing. You look like either you want to murder me for mentioning Mason or you’re keeping a secret about him.”

I glance away.

“Anna?”

I swallow hard, purse my lips, twist them side to side, and then peer back at Amelia. “I kissed Mason.”

“You what?” This time the question is clear.

“It was a huge mistake and I told him we needed to pretend it never happened.”

“Worst words ever,” she exaggerates. “Not to mention, you can never pretend that nothing happened because something did happen.”

I lower my head. “I’m a horrible person,” I murmur to the tabletop, sliding my fingertips along the edge.

“No, you’re not.” Amelia pauses but I don’t look up at her. The censure in her eyes will be more than I can witness. “When did this happen?”

Closing my eyes, visions of Mason kissing me return. Immediately, I open my eyes, not needing the reminder during my confession.

“A few weeks after Ben’s funeral.” My gaze remains on the table. I stare blindly at the fake woodgrain in the laminate surface.

Amelia exhales. “You know that that moment was a reaction to grief, right? Sometimes, we just need physical touch. Comfort. Sex is actually a natural response.”

I place an elbow on the table and cup my forehead, hiding my eyes as best I can. “It still shouldn’t have happened.”

“How did it happen?”

“I’d been crying. Again.” I emphasize. “Mason came to check on me in my bedroom.” I glance at Amelia and then away again. I don’t need to fill in the rest of the moment, but I whisper my final sin. “I called him Ben.”

Amelia gasps. “Oh, Anna. What did Mason do?”

“We just stopped.” It isn’t the whole truth but enough of it. “And we never mentioned it again.”

He apologized. I pretended.

To my surprise, Amelia snickers. Then she chuckles. Then she’s outright laughing, bending at the waist and clutching her stomach.

“What the hell is so funny?”

“You.” Amelia tries to gather herself, but she takes one look at me and bursts into laughter once more. “You’re so good . . . that when you make one slip up, you act like the world is going to collapse on your head.”

“It wasn’t appropriate,” I defend.

“Says who?” she repeats. “Who do you have to justify your actions to other than yourself?” Her laugh dies. Her glare focuses.

As guilt hits me, and an argument rolls over my tongue, I almost predict what Amelia will say next and I’m not wrong.