Page 9 of The Broken Heart Playlist
“Girls!” Mom barks, entering the kitchen like a stealth bomber. Tess and I both jump guiltily. “I see you two are wasting no time going straight for each other’s jugular.”
“We’re just joking around, Mom,” Tess protests.
“It’s our way of bonding,” I add.
Mom skewers us both with a look. “Why can’t you behave like normal people and bond over something else, like knitting?”
Uh, because I’d probably end up stabbing Tess with my knitting needle. And who knits nowadays, anyway? Judging from Tess’s expression, we’re on the same wavelength.
I get Mom’s frustration, though. I don’t know what it is with me and my sister. We’re both professional working women, but when we’re together we reflexively regress to our teenage selves.
“How’s Dad doing?” I ask Mom in an effort to redirect her attention. Dad struggles with chronic back pain. He has good days and bad days.
Her shoulder’s fall a little. “He’s having a flare-up so he’s resting in bed.”
“I’ll go check on him.”
Dad’s a little woozy from the painkillers. I sit on the edge of his bed and gently squeeze his hand. His eyes flutter open and he smiles. My heart cinches. No matter how much pain he’s in, he always manages to dig up a smile for me. We chat for a bit, but I don’t mention any of my concerns regarding Lisset. He doesn’t need to shoulder anything else that will bow his back more. I notice he’s tiring so I kiss his forehead and leave the room, leaving him to his dreams.
When I return to the kitchen, Lisset and Tess are seated at the kitchen table, chopping up ingredients for a green salad to accompany the main meal. In winter, my mom typically has the slow cooker going. Today, she tells me, it’s a Thai chicken curry simmering away. Knowing her, there’s probably two other side dishes on hand and garlic bread in the oven. She cooks like she’s hosting a football team every night.
“Where’s Aaron?” I ask, plucking a cherry tomato from the salad bowl on the table.
Mom smacks my hand.
“Ow! I’m hungry.”
“You work with food all day,” my mother retorts. “How can you be hungry?”
I rub my hand. “I don’t usually eat at work.”
Behind Mom’s back, Tess pops a tomato into her mouth and chews with a blissful look on her face. I wait until my mom’s not looking before I respond with a rude gesture.
“Aaron’s helping Grandma with Google,” Mom says.
I raise my eyebrows in surprise. “He’s a brave man.”
“I’m not sure he was given a choice.”
Just then Aaron wanders into the kitchen, looking a little dazed.
“Uncle Aaron!” Lisset abandons her brutal hacking of the feta and leaps out of her seat, throwing her arms around his legs. He pats her head absentmindedly, still clearly recovering.
“Do you need a drink, honey?” Tess asks, biting her lip to stop her grin from spreading.
Aaron swallows, dragging a hand through his dark hair. “I’m not sure even alcohol can erase the memory of the last hour.”
I grab a beer from the fridge and pass it to him. “Thanks, Kate.” He takes a long swallow. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.”
And I mean it. Nearly two years ago, though, that wasn’t the case.
When I first met Aaron, I suspected he had secrets that would hurt Tess and I was right. Fortunately, they managed to work through their issues and now Aaron Sinclair is my brother-in-law and the best thing to happen to Tess. He’s crept into my heart too, and now he’s an integral member of our family.
The bleak turbulence that used to crawl into Aaron’s blue eyes has been replaced with a measure of peace. That happened only after he fell in love with Tess. And only after she insisted he see a therapist to help him deal with tragedy in his past.
Every now and then, I catch a hint of sadness that I think will linger with him into his twilight years, but grief no longer swamps him as it once did.
