Page 35 of Tin

“Ha ha.” I decide to pass on returning the insult and instead count the previous secret-spilling as my silent retaliation. “Anyway, what do you two lovelies have planned for today?”

Kirsten tilts her head like I should already know the answer. And she’s probably right, but I don’t even know what day it is, so I can hardly keep track of what she’s doing with it. “Well, it’s Tuesday.”Tuesday. That sounds right. “So, Sophie has school today.”

I nod, putting it all together again. “That’s a Tuesday and Thursday thing, right?”

“Yes. It’s been a Tuesday and Thursday thing since you got here. Almost four months ago.” She walks around the counter to clear Sophie’s dishes. Sophie’s been watching us over her empty cereal bowl for the last few minutes. Sometimes I wonder what goes on inside her head. She’s super quiet. A lot like me. And that makes me both sad and worried for her. It shouldn’t. She’s not me. But it does. Because she has all kinds of potential to turn out like me. And none of us want that.

“Hey, Soph. What sort of stuff are the kids doing in school these days?” I prop myself onto my elbows right beside her at the breakfast bar.

“I learned to say the whole alphabet. And I know a song about all the colors of the rainbow. Want to hear it?” Her big blue eyes are gleaming with excitement, and a sharp pain ricochets straight through my heart. I’m the shittiest aunt ever. I can’t even recall the last time I had a real conversation with her.

“I would love to hear it.”

Kirsten cuts in between us to usher her out of her seat. “It will have to wait until this afternoon. Come on, kiddo. Time to get your shoes on.”

“Yes, Mama.” Disappointed, Sophie walks off with a noticeable slump to her shoulders.

“I’m a crapshoot for an aunt. You should trade me in and get your kid a better one.” I plop into her now vacant seat at the counter, the same bummer slump in my posture.

“I would, but the market’s bad right now. No way I can get out of keeping you without taking a major hit.” Kirsten smirks. “Besides. Even if I got her another aunt, you’d still be her godmother. And there’s no trading out on that gig.”

“What? You didn’t change that? Appoint someone new?”

She looks at me like I’m the crazy one. The irony here is priceless, but, apparently, I’m the only one aware of it. “Why would I appoint someone new? You’re my sister. You were there when Sophie was born. You were the second person to ever hold her. The only one who could get her to stop crying when she was teething, and the last person to leave when she was admitted to the hospital with an allergic reaction so bad I thought she might die.”

“All of that was a long time ago. Think of everything I missed in the meantime. I’m like a stranger to her now.” Three years is a long time when you’ve only been around for five.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Quinn. She loves you. You love her. Time hasn’t changed that. Even if it’s changed you.” She pulls me in for a hug, and we’re not huggers, so this is a big deal. “Now more than ever, I know without a doubt that you, and only you, are the person I would trust with my daughter’s life. If ever there was a day that I wasn’t here to be her mother anymore, I would find peace in knowing she still had you.”

“Kirsten.” I have to take a deep breath and swallow several times to push back down the emotions she so skillfully wrung to the surface. “I would fuck up your kid faster than they could give you entry to heaven. So just do whatever you have to, to stick around and finish the job yourself.”

She pinches my side and laughs, but she’s wiping her eyes with the palm of her free hand. “Deal.”

Sophie comes back, shoes on and backpack in hand. And just in the nick of time. Who knows what other depressing sort of conversations Kirsten and I would have started without her presence to remind us that they were running late for school.

After a round of goodbye waves, they’re both out the door and I’m left sitting alone in the kitchen.

I’m about to get up when my phone rings and my heart drops. My phone hardly ever rings. When it does, it’s usually Devyn. And I’m not ready for more bad news just yet.

I bring it out of my pocket to send the call to voicemail when I see the name.

It’s not Devyn.

It’s Riker.

Again.

“Am I going to need to assign you your own ringtone? Like, will you be calling me often enough that it would be handy?” There’s a reason barely anyone calls me. I have zero phone etiquette. Just never saw the point in starting the conversation with “hello.” I mean, you’re calling me. As far as I’m concerned, the conversation opens when my phone rings.

“Yes. And I want a good one. And don’t think I won’t test that shit out and call you when I’m sitting next to you just to hear what plays.” He’s completely serious. And my belly does a weird flip-flop thing. He does that to me. He’s not supposed to...but he does.

“Fine. But I’ll have to put some thought into it now. Jeez. Talk about pressure.” I even roll my eyes. Just because I believe in following through.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to just pick the first song that comes along.” He chuckles, and the sound sends a sea of goosebumps down my body. “Anyway, since everyone pretty much knows about us... what there is to know, at least, how do you feel about doing somethingnotinside my apartment tonight?”

I pick at a crusty, dried piece of frosted flake that has glued itself to Kirsten’s kitchen counter. “You mean like on the rooftop terrace? I don’t know, it’s kind of overcast. I’m not sure I’d be into that in the rain.”

“No. I mean, like, out. Away from my place. With clothes.”

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