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Well, mostly good. Apparently, even she can’t help herself sometimes. But I understand. In fact, when Tripp dragged her down to Galveston in the spring, stunning all of us with their arrival, I distinctly remember showing my brother no mercy, hounding him about his feelings for Avery and teasing him in front of her. I thought I was so funny.
I shake my head. “No, not Marco and me. We’re not…there’s not anything going on between us. I…”Promise?
Inconveniently, I’m freshly reminded of my resolve to be a truthful person. More, I respect Avery too much to lie to her, though I think she’d probably understand. “Okay, fine. We’ve kissed—but it didn’t mean anything.”
Her eyes widen. Because we kissed or because it meant nothing? I doubt she’s ever gone around lip-locking with guys she didn’t care about.
She nods politely, but Avery has good instincts, so I doubt she believes me.
A tickle starts in my throat, then works its way up into my nose, and a giant sneeze consumes me. It’s a bit messy, I will admit. She rushes over with a wad of tissues. “Thanks.” I grab one and press it to my nose.
“What happened to your hands?”
I freeze. I was trying so hard, but that sneeze tricked me, tricked me, I say!
I yank them back to my lap, curling them into each other. “Nothing.”
She sinks onto the opposite bed. “Are those bruises from IVs?”
I could tell her both of my hands got run over by a truck, but I’m not quick enough, and besides, I’m telling the truth now, right?
And maybe that isn’t altogether a bad thing.
The tears well.
Her volume is low, as if afraid to vocalize a thought. “Are you sick, Annalise?”
Slowly, I nod. “Well, I was. But I’m better now.”
What am I doing? I can’t tell all to Avery. She’s Tripp’s fiancée.
“You were in the hospital?” She sounds as if a light bulb is flickering on.
Another nod. “Last week.” But that’s all I’m going to say.
“What happened? Is it serious?” Probably she’s afraid I have cancer or something. Everyone’s afraid of cancer.
I work my fingers across the bruising on my left hand. “I had an infection.”
Her palm lands on her chest. “What kind of infection?”
I can’t tell her. Ican’t.“I um…I…” Suddenly, the tears I’ve been restraining are like a little yappy dog dying to get out the front door to chase the mailman, and truth rushes out of my mouth same as that dog when the door gets cracked. “I blew it, Avery. I messed up so bad. I’m such an idiot!”
The weight of it all, the force of the sobs, induces full collapse. I cried in the hospital. I cried with Marco. I’ve cried alone in bed most nights. I’d thought—hoped—I might be done with all that.
The bed squeaks when Avery adds her weight to it, and her arm slips quietly around my shoulder.
“I had a miscarriage. And there were complications.”
A small gasp, but the hug around me tightens.
“Oh, Lise. I’m so sorry.”
Sorry or stunned? Disappointed, perhaps? I’m supposed to be a Christian. Moral and upright.
“I never should have…and now…” I launch a fresh sob. “Guess it serves me right to nearly die.”
Definitely a gasp this time. “Die?”
