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She blinked away the tears determinedly and cleared her throat before facing Lia again. Her sister still wore the same gobsmacked expression on her face, and Daff rolled her eyes.
“Okay, so it’s Spencer. Whatever. It’s over. Moving along swiftly, if you tell Daisy, I’m going to have to cut a bitch! And that bitch be you.”
“I’m not going to be the one to tell Daisy, are you crazy? She’ll freak out.”
“She wouldn’t,” Daff scoffed before thinking about it for a moment. “Would she?”
“Daffy—”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Daffy,” Lia continued stubbornly as Daff scowled, “you know she’ll worry about the wedding and family dynamics and gatherings. She’d worry that it’d be awkward and that you or Spencer would always be making excuses not to be in each other’s company. Baby Delphinium’s christening . . . oh, here’s Auntie Daff, but Uncle Spencer couldn’t make it. Baby Dianella’s first birthday, Uncle Spencer is the life of the party while Auntie Daff sits in a corner and sulks before leaving early. Daisy’s thirtieth birthday bash, Daff comes for the first half of the party and Spencer for the second.” Daff gasped indignantly.
“Lies! I’m the party closer, not Spence. He’d be home in his jammies”—his beautiful, beautiful jammies—“before nine. And also, Jesus, woman . . . you’ve just about plotted out Daisy and Mason’s entire life together in under a minute. That’s a little creepy. You need a proper hobby. And Spencer and I are adults, we’ll make it work.”
“Daff, last week you called the man bland and insipid and compared him to a mushroom.” Why could no one let the mushroom thing go? “And that’s just one sample from years of sniping and bitching at Spencer. You’ve never made it work.”
“Well, now we have to, because of Daisy and Mason.”
“Anyway, my point is, there’s no way I’m telling her about this. It’ll be a shoot-the-messenger type of scenario. I’d rather not be around when she finds out.”
“She won’t find out. I told you, it’s over.” Lia tilted her head curiously before pointedly looking at the paper bag on the counter between them.
“This is just Spencer being Spencer. He’s concerned that I don’t eat properly—”
“He’s right,” Lia inserted wryly.
“—and so, since we’ve decided to be friends, he’s taken it upon himself to ensure I get at least one decent meal a day.”
“That’s so sweet,” Lia gushed, and Daff sighed.
It really was.
“It’s weird and I told him to stop. But he can be stubborn.”
“Really? I never imagined that. He always seems so easygoing.”
It was a little sad how few people really knew Spencer.
“So what exactly was going between you two and for how long? Was it already ongoing when you said those things last week? Was that like a cover-up to deflect attention from your relationship?”
If only. Daff regretted a lot of things in her life, but saying those things about Spencer within earshot of the man—no matter how unintentional—ranked up there among her top ten biggest fuckups.
“It began soon after I apologized to him. He started the lunch thing on Monday, we started the sex thing on Tuesday, and it ended last night. And here we are. TGIF, right?” She removed the carton of soup from the bag, along with thick slices of what looked like home-baked bread, a salad, and a bottle of juice.
“Three nights? That’s it? What happened?”
“Nothing. It was an ill-advised endeavor from the start.”
“So you . . . you slept with him?”
“Oh, I slept with him, all right,” Daff recalled with a soft smile. “But I didn’t have sex with him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“I don’t understand,” Lia admitted, looking completely baffled.
“We did other stuff. Fooled around. Touched each other’s naughty bits until it felt good.” Lia went bright red, and Daff rolled her eyes. “Stop being such a prude. I wasn’t half as crude as I could have been.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. And I thank you for that. It’s just?that image is now seared into my brain forever.”
“You asked,” Daff said, and Lia winced.
“I know. So why did it end so quickly? And why didn’t you, y’know, do it?”
“It was a mistake. A bad idea from the get-go. Spencer’s a nice guy. A good guy. He deserves more than a fuckup like me.”
“Daff,” Lia protested softly. “That’s nonsense. Spencer—any guy—would be lucky to have you.”
“No, they wouldn’t. I’m so messed up, Lia,” Daff admitted miserably, all semblance of wisecracking gone. “I’m trying to fix what’s broken, but I can’t be involved with anyone while I do that. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Why? What do you think is wrong?”
Daff swiped at an errant tear, feeling foolish and childish but grateful for her sister’s gentle, nonjudgmental regard and tone of voice. She also liked that Lia didn’t argue with her about something actually being wrong. “Everything,” she said softly. “This job, for one thing. I hate it.”
