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"Oh, Drake," she said softly. "I think your sister is reeling. It's hard to know what would help her. I don't even thinksheknows. I mean, I guess what would probably help is if she woke up from everything and found out it was all a bad dream."
"She told me exactly that!" I was stunned. "How do you know that?"
She gave me a sad smile. "I think it's a typical reaction when things go south."
"You speak as if you know from experience."
"I am a thirty-year-old single woman. I've not reached this noble age without some fair share of heartbreak, though it's nothing compared to your sister's."
"I don't think it's a competition," I said.
"No, but your sister's ex does take the cake from everything I've heard. Who leaves their pregnant wife?"
"Someone who, according to my sister, stopped caring for her. He said marriage felt like shackles."
Kimberly's eyes turned glassy. "No. Please tell me that's not true. That's just so heartbreaking."
"Kimberly." I stepped right in front of her, putting a hand on her cheek. "How can this affect you so much?"
She leaned into my touch as I pressed my thumb right above the corner of her mouth. "I don't know. I guess I'm just imagining what your sister must feel, or how your nephew might feel in a couple of years when he realizes his father didn't want to watch him grow up. It's a horrible feeling."
"You can't fool me. You sound as if you're talking from experience."
She shrugged but didn't make any attempt to step away. I brought my other hand to her face too. My touch seemed to soothe her. My hands were fucking freezing, but I didn't care.
"I lost my mom when I was young, and my father couldn't handle it. He did his best to raise us, and he supported us financially, but he just wasn't there for us. My grandmother and aunt and uncle practically raised us. It often felt like he would have preferred not to have any kids because then he could, I don't know, move on from Mom. As an adult, I don't think that's true at all. It was just how my child's mind processed everything. But growing up thinking like that was horrible."
"Kimberly," I murmured, moving my thumb over her lip, running it from one corner to the other.
She drew in a sharp breath. "I'm being silly," she murmured, taking a huge step back. I lowered my hands, putting them in my pockets. "And you need gloves. Your hands are cold."
I didn't need gloves; I needed to take care of Kimberly. She'd had her fair share of pain in her life, but she hid it well. It baffled me that she didn't seem mad at her father.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to turn this conversation into, well, talking about me."
"I asked," I replied. "I want to know."
"Why?"
"I don't think I've ever met anyone with as much empathy as you."
She raised an eyebrow. "Another compliment? Damn, I must have done something right today!"
"You have no idea, Kimberly."
She laughed nervously, pulling her beanie down her head again. "It keeps slipping off. That's why I usually don't wear them, but I thought I’d look very weird wearing a scarf around my head at a ski resort. How much farther?"
"Just down here a bit," I said.
"You're lying to me."
I grinned. "How can you tell?"
"Because you're avoiding looking at me, and your eyes sort of remain fixed when you're not truthful."
"Seven minutes, according to my phone." I turned it to show her.
"Okay, I can do this. Thank God I’m not wearing heels."
