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“No, I’m okay. I’m lonely, that’s all, but I can’t expect you to jump in the car every time I feel miserable or you’d have to camp on my doorstep.”
I give a short laugh. “Ah, honey…”
“It’s all right, don’t mind me.”
“Mads, please. Think about moving in with me. We’d be company for one another, and I could help out with Leia all the time.”
“No, that wouldn’t be fair on you.”
I don’t point out that it’s not really fair on me to have to drive forty-five minutes to see her several times a week. I need to get a chauffeur. Or a TARDIS. “Come on, I’m not even seeing anyone.”
“But you will, and we all know what that means.”
“Not all girls are like Cassie,” I say, my voice hard. Cassie made it very clear to Maddie how much she resented her.
“I’m sure most women wouldn’t be best pleased to have your twin sister living with you.”
I think about Aroha, and her words when I told her I’d been there at Leia’s birth: That was good of you, James. Not every man would have done that.
“There are some who’d understand what you’ve been through,” I tell her.
“Maybe. I just wish it wasn’t an issue. I wish I was a better mother.”
“You’re a great mother. You love Leia to bits. You’re just tired, and you need help. I want to get you another nanny and a new housekeeper. It’ll make you feel better if there’s someone to do all the washing and cleaning.”
“Lots of women have to cope without help.”
“And I’m sure they’d give their left arm to have it. What’s the point in both of us having all this money and not using it? I’m going to call the agency as soon as it opens next Monday.”
“Okay.” Her voice is dull. “It’s just… I wish…”
I wait for her to finish the sentence. When she doesn’t, I say, “You wish what?”
“Nothing.”
“Mads…”
“I’m sorry about Cassie. I mean, I didn’t like her much, but I’m sorry you’re single again.”
“I guess I have more cereal grains to sow.”
“I wish you’d change your mind about having kids.”
I don’t point out that her experience hasn’t helped the situation. “At least Leia will carry on the family line.”
“You need a son to do that.”
“I’m not the king of England. And I don’t care what Dad says. I don’t need an heir. I’m going to give all my money to the dogs’ home when I die.”
“Forget Dad. You need a wife, Jamie.”
“Nah.”
“I’m serious. It’s no fun being alone.”
I study the beer bottle in my hand, and hear her sigh.
“You know I love you, right?” she says. It’s unusually soppy for her, and my lips curve up.
