Page 87 of My Fault
“You know I do, honey, but I have to go right now. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he continued. There was too much affection in that conversation. It was like I was listening to a completely different Nicholas. “I love you, too, Princess. Goodbye.” And he hung up.
I crossed my arms and turned toward the ocean. I didn’t want him to know that his call had bothered me. It would set a bad precedent.
“Sorry. I had to take that one,” he said, kissing me on the neck by my tattoo.
“You said we needed to talk,” I responded, turning around. He let me go and sat in one of the chairs.
“Great, let’s talk,” he said, a tranquil look on his face. He didn’t have any remorse! I could feel my anger mounting. “How about we each ask ten questions? But you have to answer honestly, and we’ve both got a right to one veto.”
I nodded. He was almost having fun.
“You wanna start?” he asked.
I took a deep breath.
“Who the hell is Madison?” I asked.
He didn’t seem surprised, but still, he grimaced and ran a hand through his hair, as if it wasn’t tousled enough.
“If I tell you this, you have to accept my answer and not ask me any more questions about it,” he warned me, and I nodded, trying to imagine why. He exhaled a long breath. “She’s my little sister, she’s five years old, and she’s my mom’s daughter from her other husband.”
Okay, that wasn’t what I’d expected.
“You have a sister?” I asked incredulously.
“Yeah, and with that, you’ve wasted another question, so now you’ve only got eight left.”
I shook my head. Did my mother know? Did Will?
“How did I not know? I mean, no one ever mentioned it. You’ve got a five-year-old sister!” I exclaimed, sitting on the edge of the table in front of him.
He rested his elbows on his knees and leaned in toward me.
“You didn’t know because almost no one knows, and I want it to stay that way.”
It obviously had to do with his mother. I didn’t know much about her, just that she had walked out on him and his father, that they’d divorced when he was just a kid. That was about it.
“Do you have a good relationship with her?” I asked, trying to imagine him playing with a five-year-old girl and getting teary-eyed holding her. I just couldn’t imagine it.
“Great. I adore her, but I don’t see her enough,” he replied, and I could see the sorrow in his eyes. It was clearly hard for him to talk about…but still, he was doing it, for me.
I climbed off the table and curled up in his lap. It surprised him, but instead of pushing me away, he wrapped his arms around me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, not just because of his sister but also for the way things had gone with his mother.
“Sometimes I imagine bringing her out to LA, but by law, I can’t see her very often. My sister doesn’t get all the attention she needs; she’s diabetic, and that only makes matters worse,” he said, squeezing me into his chest.
What could I say? I felt like a complete idiot now. Not only had I misjudged him, I’d always just assumed his life was perfect, without problems of any kind. How stupid.
“Do you have a photo of her?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine what she looked like.
He took out his iPhone and swiped through his photos until he came upon a picture of a very small, very pretty blond girl. I smiled.
“She’s got your eyes,” I said. She had his mischievous expression, too, but I kept that to myself.
“Yeah, that’s the only thing, though. Everything else is exactly like my mom.”
I turned to look at him. I knew he was hiding things from me; I knew something had happened with his mother, but I didn’t dare ask. I decided to change the subject.
