Page 39 of I Can't Even

“So, what you’re saying is that you’re totally chasing Liam, but it needs to appear like you’re not,” Soph said.

“Exactly,” I said.

Soph blew out a breath. “Huh, I don’t think I can help you. I was knocked up at nineteen from my very first time at bat. I’ve never chased anyone in my life. I’ve never been chased either for that matter. It sounds like it could be fun, though.”

She let out a wistful sigh and took a sip from her steaming mug. She and Em were in the kitchen with me, sharing morning coffee while I told them both about my evening with Liam. I left out the three orgasms, keeping it vague, but told them pretty much everything else. Soph was the only one of us who was showered, dressed, and ready to face her day.

Em and I were in pajamas, mine being Wonder Woman and hers being those buttoned down stripey things she wore. I preferred mine, but I was relieved that at least she had dragged her butt off the couch at some point during the night to actually put on her jammies and sleep in her own bed. Presently, she was chomping down the biggest bowl of sugary, crunchy cereal I had ever seen. Given that Babs had never let anything with that much sugar and artificial everything into the house, it was quite shocking.

“Don’t look at me,” Em said. She didn’t bother looking up from her phone. “I don’t know how to do any of that stuff, although you’re welcome to borrow my boots any time you want. They were a huge hit at the farmer’s market last night.”

“You went to a farmer’s market dressed like that?” I asked.

“They were having a happy hour.” Em shrugged. “Free wine samples.”

“But you don’t drink,” I said.

“Maybe I do now,” Em retorted. This time she did look up, tipping her chin in a defiant manner, the impact of which was diminished by the messy ball of hair on top of her head. I glanced at Soph, fearing Em might have an epic tantrum at any moment.

“Okay, let’s table that.” Soph waved a hand in Em’s general direction as if to say it was too much to deal with so early in the morning. “And focus on one Blumer sister issue at a time.”

“That’s fine with me,” I said. “So long as you’re not going to try and talk me out of pursuing Liam.”

“You mean stalking,” Em said.

“Whatever.” I shrugged.

“I have to ask,” Soph said. “Why can’t you just tell him the truth about why you left with Jessie?”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing.” Em gestured with her spoon, splashing milk on the table, which Sophie dabbed with a napkin. “I mean I know it must be hard revisiting the past, but do you really think Liam can forgive you if you never tell him what actually happened and why?”

My sisters had a solid point but given that they only knew half of the story, and I wasn’t at liberty to share the rest of it, it was a tricky question to answer.

“I want to tell him,” I said. “I do. I wish I had before. It took me a long time to get over what Babs did, and now that I know she wasn’t even my moth—”

I glanced at Em, worried that my harshing on Babs would set her off again. Amazingly, it didn’t. Instead, she nodded as if she understood.

“She wasn’t your mother,” Em said. “It’s okay, you can say it. I’m getting used to it just like you are.”

She looked at me with an understanding I hadn’t expected, and I felt my shoulders drop in relief from their high alert position up around my ears.

“Yeah, I am.” I nodded. “As for Jessie, well, those secrets aren’t really mine to tell, are they? I mean the stuff between Jessie and Liam isn’t any of my business, right?”

“I don’t know.” Soph sounded miffed. “Since you’ve never told us the details of you and Jessie. I can’t really say, can I?”

“I promise someday I will, but Liam deserves to hear it first,” I said. They seemed marginally accepting of that.

We were quiet for a moment, and then I looked at the clock. It was after eight. I turned to Em and said, “Not to panic you or anything but aren’t you late for work?”

She didn’t glance up from her cereal. “Nah, I told Mr. Drake I needed more time.”

“And he’s okay with that?” Soph asked.

“How long are you planning on taking?” I asked.

“Yes, he is, and I don’t know.” Em shoveled more cereal into her mouth while still studying her phone. She must have felt us staring at her because she finally looked up and swallowed. “What? It’s the world’s most boring job, sitting at a desk all day dealing with people complaining about their claims, their coverage, their shitty marriages, and their lousy kids. I need to get away for a while.”

“Okay,” I said.

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