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“Your mom told you that?”
She nodded. “So did Grammy.”
What the actual fuck? My sister and mother told my six-year-old niece I was sad because Claire left?That wasn’t even true. Or at least, not one hundred percent true. Maybe I’d been a little grouchier than normal, but I wasn’tsad. I’d known Claire was leaving, so there was nothing to be sad about. It was just the way it was.
And if I was sad, I deserved it for getting involved with an outsider. I’d known better.
“Did they say anything else about me?” I paused. “Or Claire?” I hated that I’d been reduced to fishing for information from my niece, but I wasn’t about to ask my sisters if they’d talked to Claire.
Sophia shrugged. “Mommy just said to be extra nice to you because you’re sad.”
I picked up my brush and dipped it in purple paint. “You should always be extra nice to me, but I’m not sad.”
“You seem sad.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“It’s okay to be sad. Everyone is sad sometimes.”
I rubbed a hand across my brow, realizing too late that I’d probably applied purple paint to my forehead. I felt like I was in the middle of a therapy session.
“I know, but I’m not sad.”
She looked at me, and I caught a glimpse of my sister in her face. “You should say you’re sorry. That’s what you’re supposed to do when people are mad at you.”
“No one is mad at me.” At least, I didn’t think so. Unless Sophia knew something I didn’t.
“Then why did Miss Claire leave?”
The innocent question was a knife piercing my heart, and it was one I’d been asking myself even though I knew the answer. “Can we talk about something else?”
“Okay. Is it true the resort is going to have an indoor waterslide that’s as tall as a house? Since you’re friends with Miss Claire, can you get me in?”
Christ.“Do you want to break into Carmen’s side and see if she has any chocolate?” Maybe getting my niece sugared up on a school night wasn’t the most responsible thing, but I was thebestuncle ever, not the most responsible. Plus, I was desperate to change the subject.
An hour later, Lyra came by to pick up Sophia just as I was opening the place for the evening. She peered at her daughter. “Is that paint all over her face?”
I looked at my niece, who was sitting several yards away at the bar, her short legs dangling off the stool. “No. It’s chocolate.”
Lyra groaned. “Even worse. And her clothes?”
“More chocolate. Don’t worry. She wore one of my shirts over her clothes so she wouldn’t get paint on them.” I patted myself on the back for the foresight. My shirt was already in the dumpster out back.
Lyra simply sighed. “Thanks? I think? How much sugar did you feed her?”
“Enough.” I wasn’t going to apologize. It was Lyra’s fault I’d had to resort to drastic measures to distract Sophia. “Did you tell her I was sad?”
My sister blinked at the abrupt change of topic. “She may have overheard a conversation,” she said guardedly.
I didn’t bother asking about the conversation—I already knew the gist:Bennett is a dumbass who let Claire slip through his fingers.It didn’t help that a small voice in the back of my mind was screaming in agreement.
I crossed my arms. “I’m not sad.”
Lyra gave me the same look her daughter had given me earlier. “Okay.”
“I’m not.”Jesus.I sounded like a petulant toddler. All I needed was to stomp my feet, and I’d probably look the part too. I tried to wipe the scowl off my face.
She took her heavy bag off her shoulder and plopped it onto a bar stool, apparently settling in for a long chat. “It’s okay to be sad.”
