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She glances over. “Oh, I’ve watered it a couple of times.”
“Mum! Stop watering. You’re going to kill it.” I imagine all of my plants, withered and brown, and sigh. I’m about to tell her about an app that pings with an alert when it’s time to water, but my father’s voice booms in the background, and I wince.
“Uh-oh. I thought you said he was in the bedroom?” I ask.
“He was.” Mum looks away from the cell camera. “Adrian, do you need something?”
“Is that Lily?” Papa roars.
“Oh no, what now?” I whisper, taking a sip of my coffee.
“Here, talk to her. Don’t yell in the background.” I almost get woozy as the video on the cell screen jostles and shifts away from Mum.
My father’s face fills the screen.
“Your color looks so good! You’re not gray anymore.”
“Stop saying that! Jesus. I don’t want to talk about my health anymore. What’s going on up there in Canada?” my father says in a demanding voice.
Eeek. I don’t like his tone at all.
“You seem to be quite alert. How are you feeling, Papa?” I use my most soothing voice.
“I’m fine. Sick of staying in bed all the damned day,” he barks. “I want to know what happened to you. I saw something in theDaily Mirror. A photograph. You were in a hospital?”
Oh crap. This is bad. I remember the media at the hospital, but in my fuzzy mind I thought it was only one reporter, and was secretly hoping it was someone from a local paper. Apparently, my sedative-addled mind didn’t take in the full scene.
Funny, Max didn’t say anything about a photographer this morning when we woke up.
I pause for a fraction of a second to collect my thoughts. Finally, I decide on telling him the truth. “I was hiking and fell into some poison ivy and had to go to the hospital because my legs felt like they had been dipped in lava. I have blisters. It felt like I was going to lose a limb.”
“Uh-huh. And why did Max bring you to the hospital?”
Somehow Papa’s glossed over the blistering skin part of my story and has honed in on the part that I wanted to avoid.
My eyes shift to my coffee, to the rolling green vista of the Laurentian Mountains. “We were hiking together. There’s a lake here.”
Papa runs his tongue across his teeth, a sure sign he’s getting worked up. “Why were you hiking together?”
Because we needed to do something other than have sex, I want to yell.
“We were talking. About racing. And the team.” I know I sound ridiculous. “And we both needed some exercise.”
That’s probably the silliest thing I’ve ever said in my life. Max has world-class personal trainers at his disposal and a physical fitness routine. Going on a little hike for him is nothing.
“Kamari mou, I think now is the time to come clean about your relationship with Max.”
“Okay?” I should tell him what’s going on between Max and me. Spill my guts now and get it over with. Part of me wishes Max was here with me to share in this dubious moment. But I’d told him I was calling my parents and asked him to stay downstairs. I hold my breath, waiting to hear what my father says next. “What do you want to know?”
“How long has this been going on between the two of you? Tell me the truth, Lily. What is your relationship with Max?”
“We’re . . . friends.”
“Friends.” His brow furrows into a deep scowl. The lines between his eyebrows are the Grand Canyon of face wrinkles.
“Yes.”
“There are going to be rumors, with this photo of him pushing you out of the hospital in the wheelchair. Why couldn’t you walk on your own?”
