Page 93 of Perfect Pairing
“She sent us an SOS text,” I explained. “Is there something I should be aware of before I go up there?”
“Well…it’s not really my place to pry,” Fanny started. “But you know these walls are thin. I heard some arguing up there a bit ago. One of the voices was male. Then a door slammed, and footsteps pounded down the back stairs. I didn’t get a good look at who it was, but…”
“Alfie,” I breathed.
Fanny nodded solemnly. “Youbetter get up there.”
I reached for her and pulled her into a brief hug. The woman was an institution in Apple Blossom Bay, sort of a community grandmother, and had taken great care of my sister both as a boss and a friend. I was certain if Ella hadn’t contacted us herself, Fanny would’ve done it eventually.
“Thank you,” I said, squeezing her hands before letting her go, moving into the back of the shop and out the door then rounding through another and up the stairs to Ella’s apartment.
I found Delia at the top, waiting.
“Ella,” my middle sister said, following it up with a light knock. “It’s Delia and Brie. Open up, please.”
There was an extended silence, then a hoarse voice said, “It’s unlocked.”
With a shared look of concern, Delia twisted the knob and admitted us into Ella’s space. Everything appeared normal. The kitchen was spotless, a vase of winter irises decorating the otherwise-bare countertop to the right. The TV was off on the left side, a blanket strewn over the back of the couch.
But beyond that came the unmistakable sounds of muffled sobs, and Delia and I crossed the small room in a heartbeat, finding Ella curled into a ball on the floor in the narrow space between her couch and coffee table.
Instantly, we shifted her upright and wrapped our arms around her. The moment we enveloped her, she cried harder, her entire body shaking. The panic in Delia’s eyes surely mirrored my own, but we could do nothing except hold her, rubbing soothing circles across her back and smoothing our hands down her hair as she purged whatever emotional distress she was experiencing.
After a while, her sobs quieted to intermittent sniffles, andthat’s when Chloe and Amara arrived.
“What is going on?” Chloe asked, both of them waddling over to us as quickly as they could in their advanced pregnancies.
“We don’t know,” Delia whispered. “She hasn’t said a word.”
“I’m sitting right here,” Ella groused, and my shoulders relaxed fractionally at the irritation in her voice. If she was scolding us, she wasn’t totally lost to her pain.
“We’ve been here for a half hour, El,” I told her softly, “and that’s the first thing you’ve said.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed, straightening so my and Delia’s arms fell away from her. “I…fuck, I’ve been so stupid.”
“What’s going on?” Chloe asked, dropping herself onto the couch behind Ella, who then leaned on Chloe’s legs.
“Alf—” Ella seemed to choke on the word, eyes once again welling with tears. She squeezed them shut enough to expel the liquid and gave herself a little shake, clearing her throat. Her voice was flat when she spoke again. “Alfie dumped me.”
I gasped, Chloe and Amara both cursed softly, and Delia jumped to her feet, moving toward the door.
“I’ll kill him,” she said, her hand reaching for the knob.
“No!” Ella said, expression turning pleading. “Please, Lia. Just…let it go.”
“He hurt you,” our middle sister said, venom in her tone and anger flashing in her whiskey-colored eyes. “He at least deserves to have his dick cut off.”
Ella snorted a laugh. “I’m not gonna argue that,” she said.
Delia’s eyes narrowed, and Chloe and Amara straightened, as if they’d all come to a realization that had gone right over my head.
“How many?” Amara asked softly.
“At least three that I know of,” Ella said.
“That little fucking weasel,” Delia spat.
“NowI’mready to kill him,” Chloe said, rubbing a hand over her womb. “Mama Bear is pissed.”
