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Relieved to no longer have my nose so close to a toilet full of sick, I swipe the tears from my eyes as he reaches around me and flushes the toilet.
I could kiss him for getting rid of my sick. I don’t because he would not thank me for it.
Eventually, I need to get up and brush my teeth, but for the moment, I’m content to sit on the cool marble bathroom floor and have Cian hold me.
“I guess I really do smell awful now,” I say, trying for humor when all I want to do is cry forever.
Maybe later.
His mouth brushes the top of my hair. “You smell like the best thing I’ve smelled in my life.”
I laugh because I know he has to be joking.
And then Della is on her knees in front of me, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Ever. I didn’t know, but I—”
Smiling faintly, I cradle the back of her head with one hand and draw her into a one-armed hug. “I know.”
Because this is Della. My little sister. We might not be related by blood, but she’s my sister. She always will be.
Her arms come around me, and we stay in our ridiculous tangle of arms on a bathroom floor beside a toilet that smells even worse than I do. Cian holds me while I hold Della until she says, “You weren’t joking about the smell, were you, Ever? You smell like shit.”
I splutter, laughing as I squeeze the sister who isn’t truly my sister, but who I love with all my heart. Then I shove her away. “Shut up.”
She clings to me for another long moment before she releases me to meet my eye, her smile fading.
She studies me for so long that, sensing something is wrong, I frown. “What is it?”
“Nothing,” she denies.
I don’t believe her. I’ve seen that evasiveness in Della’s eyes before. Not often, but enough. My sister is keeping something from me. Something she doesn’t want to tell me, which means it’s something I should probably know. But later. Once I’ve gotten rid of this foul taste in my mouth. “Then how about we get up? I’d like to brush my teeth, if that’s okay.”
They leave me alone in the bathroom to clean up.
Once I’ve brushed my teeth three times and gargled with peppermint mouthwash—thank God for a well-stocked bathroom—I join them in the bedroom.
I’m almost used to my wet clothes from my dunk in the pool that I’ve stopped wondering how soon I can change into something dry. Cian is back to leaning on the wall beside the door as if he’s guarding it. Della and I are back to sitting on the edge of the bed, watching him.
Or, I’m watching him. Della’s gaze is burning a hole through my cheek.
She’s quiet, and since Della is rarely ever quiet, I can only assume she’s working up to tell me the thing she was reluctant to in the bathroom.
Downstairs, a low hum of male voices, a door closing, and more murmurs warn Lawrence is in the same house as me.
I’m straining so hard to listen to what’s going on, I almost miss Della’s quiet words. “I saw what he did to you.”
I glance at her, distracted by what could be happening with Lawrence. “What?”
“Lawrence. I saw what he did to you in his office,” Della explains.
Her words make me forget he’s here. My knuckles throb as I push myself to my feet so I can hide my face from Della. I stand with my back to her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I know exactly what she means.
She admitted to working in Lawrence’s garden, and his office overlooked it. There’s only one thing she must have seen Lawrence do to me in his mahogany and leather office. I’m not sure why I’m so desperate to hide it from her, but I just am.
Shame, I guess. I’m supposed to be the big sister here, the one who looks out for her. Instead, she’s the one looking out for me.
“My sister is an artist, Cian. Did you know that?” Della asks quietly.
