“Upstairs in her room.”
“Why couldn’t she drive Delia this morning?”
“She’s … not feeling well,” I said, fumbling over the lie. Georgia stopped stirring. My sister wasn’t necessarily a germaphobe, but she didn’t cope well with contagious diseases. Knife injuries, gunshot wounds, and blunt force trauma she could handle at close range. Snot, the runs, and projectile vomiting was enough to send her running for the hills. “Cramps,” I added.
The tension left her shoulders and she nodded into her coffee. I’d called my sister the night before, right after I’d called Steven. Vero couldn’t take Delia to school in the Charger, and letting her drive my minivan was far too risky. The person who’d taken that picture of Vero could track my license plates here.
I’d considered letting Delia stay home for the day, playing it safe until Steven’s flight got in from Philly and he came to pick up the kids, but then I’d had another idea. If the creep who took that photo was waiting at the school and saw Delia get out of my sister’s car—a car with a few extra antennas on the roof and a dome light on the dash—maybe he’d have second thoughts about stalking my children’s nanny.
“Why couldn’t you take Delia?” Georgia asked.
“I have a meeting with Sylvia.” My sister raised an eyebrow at my snowman-themed pajama bottoms. “It’s a Zoom,” I said, doubling down on the lie. “Why are you all dressed up?”
“I have a meeting this morning, too. It’s not a big deal.” Her cheeks were pink and her lips were glossy. She avoided my curious stare, picking a lint fuzz off her sweater. It was a deep hunter green that brought out the flecks of it in her eyes.
“Holy shit, Georgia!” I shoved her shoulder. Coffee sloshed over the rim of her mug and she swore as she mopped a few drops from the toes of her shoes. “You’re seeing someone at work!”
“I’m not seeing someone at work.”
“At the lab, then?” I racked my brain, struggling to remember the last time I’d been there with Nick. “Is it a tech?”
“No,” she said gruffly.
“The M.E.?”
She pulled a face.
“That cute toxicologist?”
“Stop trying to guess. You don’t know her.”
“I knew it! You are seeing someone! When do I get to meet her?”
Georgia held up a finger. “A, we’re not seeing each other. And B, you don’t.”
“Why don’t you invite her over for dinner?” I suggested. “Vero and I will cook.”
“Finlay—”
“What are you so afraid of, Georgia? Do you seriously think I’d embarrass you? You wore SWAT gear to Thanksgiving at Mom’s. You do a perfectly fine job of embarrassing yourself.”
“I said I’m not seeing her, okay?” Georgia’s tone had sharpened to a brittle edge. I’d never known my sister to be fragile and the sound of it startled me. She drew a calming breath through her nose as I blinked at her. “I’m just handling something for Nick. He’s all tied up with this big project at work, so I offered to help him out. That’s all.” My sister had always been a horrible liar. She and Nick had been close since they’d attended the police academy together years ago, but the effort she’d put into her hair this morning betrayed her motivations. “Speaking of Nick, why haven’t you called him back?”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “That was a perfectly reasonable segue.”
“Tell me about this woman you’re interested in.”
“Answer my question about Nick.”
I gritted my teeth, weighing my need to know more about my sister’s sparkly new crush against my determination not to involve her in my love life. “I was going to call him back. I’ve just been busy.” Apparently, I was a shitty liar, too.
“Busy? Or chicken?” I slapped away her hand as she ruffled my hair. “Delia!” she called up the stairs. “Come on, squirt. You’re gonna be late for school.”
Delia bounded down the steps, nearly tackling my sister into the wall with the full force of an exuberant five-year-old. “Whoa, Dee! Go easy on the knees. Save the takedowns for the bad guys.” My sister turned to me and said, “You should probably break the kids of the whole tackle-hug thing before they hurt someone.”
“Mmmm…” I said through a pinched smile. “Maybe you can come over and work on it with them when you’ve finished potty training Zach.”
“Very funny,” she said as she ushered Delia out the door.
“Thanks, Georgia,” I called after them, “I owe you one.”
“Forget about it. I lost count a long time ago. And for god’s sake, call Nick!” she hollered over her shoulder.
“Yeah, call Nick!” Delia parroted as she trotted down the sidewalk to my sister’s car. My daughter had been nagging me to call him ever since Christmas, when he’d given her a checkers game and promised to teach her to play. But inviting Nick to my home for a game of strategy felt decidedly risky under the circumstances. He had far too many questions about me, questions I’d narrowly avoided that night. Questions I shouldn’t answer. Not now. And if I was smart, I never would.
* * *
My ex-husband’s F-150 rumbled into the driveway just after lunch, earlier than I’d expected. I rushed downstairs, balancing Zach on my hip, startling Steven when I threw open the door.
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. His face was ruddy with the cold, his shirt slightly rumpled under his open coat, as if he’d just walked off the plane. He ran his hand through his hair and smoothed down his short beard, his blue eyes wide as they took me in. “It’s good to see you. You look great.”
“Thanks,” I said, gesturing for him to come in. “It’s good to see you, too.” For the first time in a long time, I actually meant it. The last time I’d seen Steven, we’d narrowly escaped an attempt on his life, and though our history over the last two years was marked by countless disappointments and betrayals, the night I saved him from EasyClean had been a turning point for us. Now that the threat to him was over, as well as his engagement to Theresa Hall, hopefully we could go back to co-parenting our children like civilized adults.
“Thanks for taking the kids on such short notice,” I said over Zach’s squeals. He leaned out of my arms, dropping his juice-stained blanket as he reached for his father. “They’ve missed you.”
Steven scooped up our son, a sheen in his eyes as he pressed a kiss to Zach’s cheek. “Oh, man. I missed you guys, too!” He turned to me, his throat a little thick when he asked, “You sure it’s okay for them to stay with me … you know … after everything?”
“No one’s going to try to kill you, if that’s what you’re asking.” He didn’t look convinced. “Trust me, Steven. It’s safe.”
An awkward silence stretched between us as Vero shuffled about upstairs, packing the last of the children’s pillows and toys and zipping them into their suitcases.