Page 47 of This Life and All the Rest
Something about her so comfortably using my middle name sets my teeth on edge. It’s like she’s gladLennonis gone, and it makes me want to come back just to spite her. Too bad the old Lennon is dead.
I smile, infusing my expression with every ounce of grace I can muster, and tilt my head to the side to survey her. I scan her face and her hair slowly, the whole time sporting a blissful smile, and I do it silently. Just long enough to make her nervous. When her spine is rigid and her nostrils flare, I speak.
“Je suis désolé, ma soeur,”I say. “Faisons comme si tu n’étais pas une salope. Si cela vous aide à mieux dormir.”
Eric chokes on his coffee, his eyes wide on my face, and I can’t hold back my laugh.
“Oh, I forgot you took French,” I say honestly. “You’ll have to tell me how I did. I know my French is still pretty rough.”
He clears his throat and looks quickly to Claire and back.
“It was fine,” he says, and I grin.
“What did you say?” Claire asks me, then turns to Eric. “What did she say?”
Eric shakes his head.
“She, um, said she was sorry.”
Claire raises an eyebrow.
“I can tell you’re lying,” she hisses.
I watch the exchange with glee. Oh, poor Eric. He’s always been too nice for his own good. Then I frown.
Jesus. Was this how I was with her?
“I’ll go grab my stuff,” I say airily while walking out of the kitchen.
I don’t turn around to acknowledge them, and I’m in and out of the rooms within minutes. I can fit all of my belongings in my arms. It’s precarious, but I’d prefer to only make a single trip to the car.
I descend the stairs slowly, then struggle a bit opening the front door, but when I get it without dropping anything, I have to suppress the urge to do a little dance in celebration.
When I get out the door, though, I see Macon stomping up the yard with a scowl on his face. He stops short when he sees me and surveys all the shit in my arms. His scowl fades as if he’s just realized something, and then he closes the distance.
“Here,” he says, snagging my carry-on and one of my bags of art supplies.
I don’t say anything. I just let him help me carry it to my car and drop it in my trunk.
“You heading to the hospital?” he asks after I close the trunk, and I nod.
“I was going to try and see Dad for a half hour or so until Andrea comes by. I didn’t want to disturb you this morning, so I let myself out.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a keychain, slipping off a key and handing it to me.
“Stop by my apartment first and drop off your stuff,” he tells me. “I’m going to be here with Evie. Probably all day.”
“Thanks.”
I take the key slowly. Slow enough that my fingertips brush over his and goosebumps that I resent prickle my arms. I know he notices. The heat in his eyes when I look up is confirmation of that.
Movement at the house catches our attention at the same time, and we break our gaze to glance back at the front porch. Claire is standing there, arms folded, and she looks worried. I scoff, turn away from Macon and pop open my car door.
“I’ll see you later,” I tell him, and climb into the driver’s seat. But because I’m feeling like a vindictive bitch, I call out to Claire before closing the door behind me.
“I apologized, yeah. I also said we can pretend that you’re not an evil cunt if it helps you sleep better at night.” She gasps angrily and drops her arms. “Or something along those lines,” I say with a shrug. “Some things get lost in translation.”
Then I slam my door, crank the engine, and drive off with a smile.
