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Emilia’s bottom lip trembled, still holding the smile, though, and her eyes welled up. “You’re going to mess up my makeup.”
“You’re not wearing any makeup.”
She flapped a hand at me. “You know what I mean.”
I brought the jewelry box out of my pocket and held it in both hands. “Look, Em, you’ve been a shining star for our family for years. You’ve kept us all together even when we were trying to pull apart. Hell, Dad’s even going to walk you down the aisle. That’s a fucking miracle to me.”
“You two still aren’t talking much?” Emilia asked.
“That doesn’t matter now,” I said, holding out the box. “I wanted you to have this.”
“You didn’t seriously buy me something expensive, did you? I didn’t want you to do that. I’m more than happy with everyone being here.”
“Em, you basically flew everyone out and paid for everything. You’ve been an angel to everyone. I think a gift is warranted.” I foisted the box on her. “But if you must know, I didn’t spend any money on this.”
“Well, damn. That’s not really what a sister likes to hear.”
That drew another laugh from my lips, but the nerves were still there. This was a big deal. Would she be touched? Angry?
“What is it?” She opened the box, her fingers gentle on the clasp, and drew in a breath. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful.”
The necklace was a gentle silver chain, the links so delicate they were lacy, leading toward a single sapphire stone at the center.
“How did this not cost you anything?” she asked.
“It was Mom’s.” There. It was out there now.
Emilia drew in a breath. “But I thought Dad… I thought he got rid of everything that was hers.”
“The day after it happened, when he was out doing whatever he did in that time, I went into their room. I found her things, and I took stuff. Stuff I wanted to keep. I don’t know why I did it, but I got the feeling that everything would change in a big way. This was my way of holding onto a little piece of her.”
“Is this the only thing you’ve got?” Emilia asked, the tears flowing freely down her face now. “Of Mom’s stuff?”
I shook my head. “I have her engagement ring,” I said. “But I figured giving my sister an engagement ring would be a little creepy.”
“A little?” She snorted, but her face crumpled into sorrow again shortly after. “Wow. Wow, this is… why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t want to ruin the surprise. I figured this could be your something blue one day,” I said. “And talking about Mom isn’t easy for me.”
“Oh, I know.”
Emilia had needed me to talk about our mother back when it had happened, but I’d been impervious to the request. I’d shut myself off. Focused instead of what I wanted to do next: get the fuck out of dodge.
“I should have told you sooner,” I said, “but I needed this more than you can, uh, understand.” Shit, I was bad at talking about emotions. This sucked ass.
“That’s OK,” Emilia said, after a minute. “Thank you, Matt. I get that you would need this more than I did. But why give it to me now?”
“Because it’s time to let go,” I said. “And it’ll be pretty amazing having at least a piece of Mom at your wedding.”
Emily closed the box and carefully set it aside on the chaise lounge then rose and threw herself into a big brother bear hung. I patted her on the back.
“Thanks, bubby,” she said.
It was the name she’d called me when she’d been a kid and couldn’t say “brother” properly.
“But promise me one thing.” She stepped out of the hug, narrowing her eyes at me again.
“What?”
She lifted her finger and prodded me in the chest. “No more secrets. I get that you want to keep all your emotional stuff locked down, whatever, but don’t hide anything from me, OK? If we don’t have each other, then what do we have?”
How the hell was I supposed to make that promise? I’d slept with Summer last night. I hadn’t told her about the potential threat of George Cruz either. It was impossible to keep.
“Bubby,” she said.
“I promise,” I managed, hating the words as they left my mouth.
“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get changed.” She lifted the velvet-covered jewelry box and stroked her fingers over it.
I made my way to the door, and it felt as if a weight had been lifted from my chest. I’d given her the damn thing. I’d been keeping it for so long, taking it out once a year to look at it and remember our mother, and now, I could let go, at least to a certain extent. I would always have my mother’s memory.
“Bubby.”
I looked back at my sister.
