Page 72 of Reckless Desire

London rolls her eyes. “Let’s not talk about him. We have enough to cover. You’re late,” she snaps, and I’m not sure if she is pissed at the neighbor, stressed about her gala, or getting into one of her darker moods that resurface once in a while.

We go inside, following her to the large U-shaped sofa that reigns in the middle of her living space. Her condo is sparsely furnished. Despite appearances, London doesn’t spend much on things. On experiences and adventures, definitely, but not possessions.

“Why did you call us? We just saw you this weekend.” Paris crosses one leg over the other.

Lo doesn’t sit with us, and her nervous energy contaminates the air as she paces. “That’s why. I’ve been thinking about the weird summon to the monthly family dinners. Bianca and Dad didn’t just decide they want to hang out with us more, and frankly, Bianca’s speech got me thinking. What if one of them is sick?” London chews on her cuticle.

All of us spent an afternoon at my parent’s house this weekend which is not common in our family. But my stepmother, Bianca, insisted on the get-together, and told us it will be a regular event now because life is short.

We’re a large family and coordinating everyone’s busy schedules became too difficult, so at some point we stopped trying. At first, I just assumed Bianca and Dad wanted to spend more time with us, as parents do. But after her speech, I wondered myself.

“That’s what I said, and Massi told me I was being morbid.” I shrug.

“We need to find out.” London paces.

“If they wanted us to know, they would have told us,” Paris points out.

“I agree, and even if something is wrong, they can’t hide it from us for too long. We should respect their timeline,” I say, partially because I have enough drama in my life right now and I can’t imagine adding more.

“If there even is anything going on. Maybe it really is an honest effort to get us all together.” Paris smiles innocently.

Lo stops pacing and studies us for a moment, then shrugs. “Okay. Next on the agenda. What’s wrong with you?”

Heat spreads through my cheeks. I was so sure I acted normal this weekend at the family lunch. Damn it.

“Hunter wants to tell his daughter about us,” I blurt without preamble, because if I’m going to seek advice, these two are the ones I can count on. And London won’t drop the topic until she’s satisfied.

Paris shifts to face me. “And you don’t?”

“It’s kind of soon for that, I think.” Why does the statement taste rotten?

“It’s his daughter, his decision. If he’s comfortable telling her, why wait?” She searches my face, as though expecting another big revelation.

I remain silent. What can I say? Clearly, no one sees my point.

London sits next to me. “It feels like you’ll be committing to one more person, doesn’t it?”

Perhaps someone understands. Even though I haven’t articulated the real reason behind my worry yet. Tears burn around my eyes.

“Oh, sweetie.” Paris scoots closer. “You love the man. You’ve been into him since the first moment you saw him. And while your story is weird and not straightforward, who says how long you need to be together before you can move to the next level? Take the leap.”

“It’s premature to talk about love.” I lean forward, burying my face in my hands.

“There is no timeline for love.” Paris strokes my back.

“Also, you didn’t deny it. Syd, how did you feel when Dan asked you to move in? Or when he proposed?” London asks.

“What does that have to do with anything?” I lift my head to peek at her.

“You knew you didn’t want that. Is your instinct telling you to be with Hunter? Deep down, even if you don’t want to label it, do you want to be with him?”

I straighten up and wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand. I read somewhere it only takes five seconds for fear and doubt to creep into our decision-making. In these five seconds right now, before fear colors my response, I know the answer to London’s question with the deepest conviction. A flower of joy and hope sprouts shyly in the corner of my soul that has been wilting since Jeremy’s betrayal. Doubt stomps on it quickly.

As though she could see inside me, London sighs. “Look, I don’t like people and I’m perfectly fulfilled in my life without a man. But that’s not you, Syd.”

“You’re a caregiver, sweetie. You always have been. You took care of us after Mom was gone. You became a teacher…” Paris continues stroking my back. It’s comforting and unwanted at the same time. I’m the eldest, yet I’ve been such a mess that I need my younger siblings to console me.

“I’m scared.” The words float into the room on butterfly wings. I don’t think anyone even hears me.

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