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Color flushes her cheeks. "Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do?"
"The man your brother charged with taking care of you."
"Excuse me?" Those big eyes of her grow enormous, until they seem to fill her face. "My brother?"
"Knight, your older brother, remember?"
"I know my brother’s name. What I mean is, he never mentioned anything about you taking care of me. Besides, I’m a full-grown woman.”
Yea, trust me. I noticed.
“And who are you to take care of me anyway?"
"You’re brother’s best friend?" I offer.
"Someone I haven’t seen in ages. I barely know you."
"We don’t have to know each other for me to do my duty toward my best friend."
"Well, I absolve you of your duty." She cuts the air with her palm. "You can rest assured I can look after myself. I’ve been doing it all these years since I left home, after all."
"Apparently, you’re not doing a good enough job of it though."
"King!" Zara protests, but I ignore her.
Abby stiffens. "What do you mean?"
I look her up and down. "Clearly, you don’t eat enough. Have you seen just how skinny you are?"
"Wh-what?" She opens her mouth, then shuts it. Then opens it again. "What did you say?"
"As for your dress, did you buy it at the charity shop?"
Zara makes a strangled noise at the back of her throat.
I ignore her; so does Abby.
She glances down at her dress, then at me. "This one’s from Mango," she says in a low voice.
"Could have come from a charity shop, the way it hangs on you."
"Okay, that’s enough," Zara snaps. The baby stirs, then begins to cry. She hushes the kid, who only begins to bawl louder. "It’s okay darling. Mommy’s here. You’re hungry, aren’t you?" She pushes down the neckline of her dress and I get a flash of breast—my sister’s breast—before I hastily turn away.
The baby stops crying; clearly, because it’s latched onto her boob.Ah hell, should I be associating the word boob with my sister? Sisters aren’t supposed to have breasts or get married... Or spawn babies, for that matter. Jesus, where has the time gone?I remember Zara as being a feisty girl who matched me when it came to running, or playing cricket, or standing up to my parents when they insisted she behave more like a 'girl'.When did she grow up enough to have kids of her own? How much did I miss in the time I was away from home.I rub the back of my neck.Why am I having all of these misgivings? I made my choices a long time ago. And so far, they’ve been working for me. So why am I questioning them now?Clearly, seeing my sister with her newborn, not to mention meeting the woman who has a way of getting under my skin, has thrown me off kilter.
"I think, uh, I need a cup of coffee." I turn toward the door.
"I’m not done with either of you," Zara announces.
I blow out a breath. I may be only a few minutes younger than her, but she’s always been the bossy one. And when my sister commands, you don’t ignore it.
I exchange glances with Abby, who looks a little embarrassed, as well. She glances at Zara. "Sorry about that; didn’t mean to wake up the little one."
"Oh, he was hungry, anyway. He’ll be okay once he’s had his fill." She turns to me. "You, on the other hand, need to apologize."
"Eh?" I scowl. "For what?"
"For being rude and saying things you don’t mean, for one."
