Page 20 of Lillian

Oh, not much. My soulmate just walked back into my life.

“Same old shit. Different day,” I respond back, but my voice gets high pitched on the last word like my own body refuses to lie to my sister.

There’s a beat of silence before her curious, too-interested voice starts in with the questions. “Why did your voice just squeak? What are you hiding from me? I thought I was your favorite sister. You can’t lie to your favorite sister!” I pull the phone away from my ear at the last, screeching exclamation.

“You’re my only sister,” I respond dryly. For something to do, I pick up the pen on my desk and start clicking the top of it over and over. It’s early in the afternoon at the office, and the people in office are starting to get the end of the day jitters. A lot of standing around desks and gossiping before clocking out, so the buzz outside the door is low but steady.

“Exactly. So why are you trying to hide things from your only sister?” Damn. Love her, but the little shit can be annoying when she feels like it. No part of me wants to entertain that. I give her a half truth.

“Just my piss-poor dating life. You know how it is.”

A beat of silence, then she grumbles, “No, I don’t know how it is. No dating, remember?” Right. One of the rules of the ranch. Another reason to get her out of there. It’s better than the alternative, but it’s still basically a fucking convent. She needs to have normal teenage girl experiences.

“Right. Sorry, squirt,” I sigh, rubbing my brow with my thumb and forefinger. An urgent email comes through that I have to answer; I switch my cell to speaker and place it on the desk so I can use both hands to type out my reply.

“It’s fine. Only another month, right?” Hope limns her voice, and it lifts some of the pressure from my chest. I did that. I brought that hope, that happiness, to her voice.

I smile, genuine and broad, and reply, “Right. I already have your room cleared out and the bed set up. You just need todecide on the paint color, and I’ll have that done before you move in.” I’m responding to her as I’m typing, and she must hear the click of the keyboard down the line.

“Do you never stop working?" She huffs. “Never mind. I actually think I want to paint it myself. I really like my art therapy classes and thought I could do my own room?” There’s a hint of nerves in the question, but I couldn’t give a fuck less. The condo could use some color.

“Okay. We’ll go shopping together for whatever you need when I pick you up.” I hit send on the email and lean back in my chair, swiveling left to right, and drop my head back.

“You’re the best!” she screeches. “Wait.” The screeching stops so abruptly I stop my own swiveling. “My room isn’t right next to yours, is it? I don’t want to hear any of your…dating life.”I imagine her shuddering through the phone, and I laugh. Not that I would bring random women back to the apartment with her there.

Oneperson, maybe. Hopefully.

“No, there’s another room and a bathroom in between us. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Thank God. Speaking of…I didn’t realize you were evendating.”The way she says that may as well have air quotes around it. It’s no secret I haven’t been trying to settle down, and I’ve never told my sister about any one night stands.

“I’m…not. Not really.”Not yet.

“Sounds like there is a story there. Tell me!” she demands, a grin in her voice.

“There isn’t anything to tell. Yet.” There. That’s something.

“Yet? So you’re trying to date someone?”

“Yes. I’m trying to date someone, okay?” I respond, only half-annoyed.

“I mean…I’m impressed. You haven’t dated in a while. Not since Lillian at least.” Just hearing her name puts my heart ina chokehold. Like someone reached in and squeezed it. "What’s she look like?”

I release the breath I’m holding. What does she look like? Like the same stunning woman I loved four years ago. Only somehow even more beautiful. “Uh…blonde,” is what I tell my nosey sister.

“Blonde?” she snorts. “Well. You certainly have a type. What else?” Why is she asking so many questions?

“What do you want to know?” I grouse. “Her fucking social security number?”

“Don’t cuss at me, dumbass. Tell meanything.What’s she like? Is she nice? Does she like the same things as you? What does she do for work?”

My brain responds on autopilot, incapable of not telling the world how perfect Lillian is, I guess. “She’s smart, kind, beautiful, funny. She’s everything.”

Silence.

So much silence I look down at the phone on my desk to make sure the call didn’t drop.

“Woah,” she says after a beat. “I haven’t heard you talk about anyone like that since Lillian. She must be serious.”

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