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Of all the reactions I’d expected to get from Tiffany, understanding was nowhere near the top of the list. It wasn’t even on the list. “You do?” I asked, failing to hide my surprise.
Smiling to herself, she ran her fingers under the lid of the tin, working it open. “Love makes you do crazy things.”
Was she serious, or passive-aggressively insulting me? “Yes, it does,” I said. “And I know this can’t be easy for you, but like I said, we had no intention of—”
“All right already,” she said. “I don’t care. This whole thing is, like, ancient history. I have more important things happening in my life.”
“Oh.” Well, that was different. Or was it? Only one thing could distract Tiffany from talking about herself—and that was talking about herself. “What’s . . . happening in your life?”
She opened a draw to get a pie server. “I met a man. A doctor.”
“You’re dating someone?” I asked.
“Dating?” She hummed a laugh as if enjoying an inside joke. “It seems like such a small word for what we’re doing.”
She’d just used the same word to describe Manning and me, so of course I understood how small it felt. He and I had done a lot but we hadn’t truly dated. Certainly that would be lost on Tiffany, though, especially because it seemed as if she’d forgotten I was even in the room. “Who is he?” I asked.
She transferred the pie to the cake plate. “Robby. You don’t know him, but he’s the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. He’s tall and handsome. And a doctor.”
“You mentioned that.”
“Well, it says so much about who he is. Kind, caring, and great with kids . . .” She shifted her eyes over my shoulder and out the back window. I couldn’t help wondering if Robby really existed in all his perfection, or if this was another way for Tiffany to get a leg up on me. I was in love? She was in more love. I’d met the best man in the world? Well, hers was a doctor.
Even with the adoring look on her face, I wasn’t entirely sure it was genuine. It couldn’t be easy to see me with Manning. Was she talking Robby up to make herself look better? Or was she so enamored, she really didn’t give a shit what we did?
“I’m happy for you.” I relaxed my hip against the counter. “How long have you been together?” I asked with a sip of Pinot.
“Over a year. I’ve never been happier. I literally don’t even care about stupid stuff anymore, you know? Robby always says drama is below us.”
I nearly spit out my wine. But without drama, who was my sister? “I need to meet Robby.”
“He’s wonderful,” Mom said, reentering the kitchen.
I eyed her armfuls of canned goods. “You felt a sudden need to clean out the pantry?”
“I remembered that Robby asked me to donate some food to a drive at the hospital,” she said, averting her eyes.
“Right.” Surely, it had nothing to do with wanting to stay out of the fray. I looked for Manning again as Tiffany brushed by me.
“I should say hello,” she said, pulling open the sliding glass door.
I started to follow her when my mom touched my arm. “Give them a minute, sweetie.”
“Manning might need me there.”
“You did it on your own,” Mom said. “So can he. Let your sister process this how she needs to.”
Reluctantly, I returned to the window to watch them. “Is Robby real?” I asked.
She laughed. “Completely. He’s a very nice man. And a doctor! He’s patient with her—just what she needs.”
“Hmm.” I gripped the sink as Manning blew on a dusty light bulb, then screwed it back in. He paused and turned as Tiffany approached. They exchanged a few words, and then he offered her a cigarette, cupping his hand around her mouth as he lit it for her. Tiffany’s shoulders fell from around her ears as she cocked a hip. Manning took a drag, smiling a little as he nodded and blew smoke into the backyard. No longer in the same room as Tiffany, relief filtered through me, and it looked as if she felt the same.
She nudged his shoulder with a laugh, then glanced in my direction. Even though Manning and I had ended up together, and I couldn’t feel anything other than grateful for it, Tiffany had shared one experience with Manning I still hadn’t.
I turned away from the window to face the pies. “Do you have another cake plate?”
“I don’t,” Mom said, frowning. “Sorry, honey. We’ll get both on the table tonight, though.”
I lifted the cover and inspected Tiffany’s baking skills. Apple—Manning’s second favorite flavor. It smelled amazing. “This isn’t store-bought?” I asked.
“I’d be surprised. Tiffany loves to bake.”
“There’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.” I re-covered the dessert. I’d always considered the kitchen my domain, but it looked like if I came home again, I’d be sharing it.
