Page 75 of Your Pace Or Mine

She reaches over and takes my hand. “You could have talked about this with me, you know. I’m still here.”

It feels a bit rich considering my sister hasn’t exactly been available. “You were so busy with Chris, and your house, and it all felt insignificant. And the times I tried to reach out⁠—”

She drops her hand and looks away. I don’t have to say it because she knows she hasn’t been a great correspondent lately.

“I’m sorry, Ash. I should have been around. I got so caught up in the house, like I was supposed to have everything perfect now that we’re married homeowners. I know it’s silly, and Chris thinks I went overboard stressing out about getting things perfect. We had a few arguments about that. It hasn’t helped that I’ve been working extra shifts to cover the moving expenses.”

“It felt like you were too busy being married to answer my messages,” I admit, blinking back a tear.

“I’m sorry for being distant,” she says remorsefully. “I told myself you were having fun living your life. I didn’t think that maybe you were texting because you needed me.”

She looks over at me, and I shrug. “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out, Sam.”

I’m still hurt that she pushed me away, but I get it. I also assumed her life was sunshine and rainbows, and I didn’t want to butt in.

She gives me a small smile. “Well anyway, I hope Sebastian’s dick falls off.” And with that, we move on to other topics.

Samantha has a shift at the hospital later but comes back with me to Mom’s first. I feel so much lighter after our girl time. We laze on the couch with our lunch and watch a baking show.

The doorbell rings while we’re critiquing cake decor as though we know the first thing about fondant.

Sam doesn’t get up. “Probably someone offering yard work.”

It rings again.

“Maybe it’s a package?” I suggest. “What if it needs a signature?”

“They’ll leave a slip. Don’t answer. It could be a murderer.” She should hang out with Tess some time.

“Of course, because murderers ring the doorbell.”

After the third ring, Sam huffs and gets up. “I swear, it better be someone telling us we’ve either won a million dollars or there’s a dead body on the lawn.”

I’m wondering about the protocol for dead bodies when I hear the door open and her voice says coldly, “Get the hell off of my mom’s porch.”

Now I’m intrigued. Is it a murderer after all? Tabloids? Religious zealots?

“Who is it, Sam?”

“No one!”

There’s some mumbling, then she repeats, “Get. The. Fuck. Off. The. Porch.”

I hear a familiar voice, and it cuts me to my core. “Please. Can I have five minutes?”

I hurry to the door to find Sebastian standing shyly on the doorstep, holding my umbrella. His expression is one I’ve never seen on him—almost anguished. He has bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in two days. My heart doesn’t know what to do. I am equal parts shattered, hopeful, and glad that he looks worse than I feel.

“I’ll give you three,” I hear myself say.

My sister steps aside, and I go out onto the porch next to her. The first thing Sebastian does is hand me the umbrella I left in the pub, like that’s somehow going to fix things.

“You forgot that,” he says in a contrite voice.

I stare at it, confused. Surely he didn’t come all the way here to give me something I could have replaced for twenty bucks. “Try again.”

He reaches for my hands and I flinch back, causing his face to fall even further. “I’m sorry, Ashley, I’m so sorry. I was an idiot. I don’t deserve you.”

“No, you don’t.” I’m not making this easy for him.