Page 45 of The Write Place

“Was that a joke, Milcrest?”

A corner of my mouth tips up a little. “Yeah. Unless you really did have servants make you tea, in which case I don’t know what it was.”

“You have about as much knowledge of what it was like growing up in a wealthy family as I did about public school.”

I give a little laugh at that, and he studies me again for a moment before adding tea bags to mugs and filling the kettle with water.

Once it’s made, he brings me a mug and holds one himself. He sits on the couch facing me, putting his mug down on the coffee table in front of the couch. I face him, holding mine between my hands, my legs folded up beneath me. I click my ring gently against the mug a few times until I realize the noise might be annoying and force myself to stop. Daniel looks at me calmly.

“Tell me about her?” he asks gently.

“You would have really liked her.” I smile slightly. “Everyone did.”

“I’m sure I would have,” he agrees, then waits for me to continue.

I think for a minute. “She lit up every single room she was in. She gave life to everything she touched. She was four years older than me, which was ages when we were younger. She’d come home from college or from wherever she had been, and she’d always be carrying a bag or something for me. I never knew what it was, but I knew it was going to be cool. Usually it was a book. She made fun of me for reading all the time, but it was mostly a front. She orchestrated every adventure we had, and it was always amazing. Always. And she was warm. So warm.” I look down at the ring on my hand and brush my thumb against it. I keep my eyes on the ring as I say, “She always brought out the best in me. She was the sun, and I was the moon, just reflecting her light most of the time.” I fall silent at that, willing the tears not to start falling again.

Daniel takes the hand with the ring in both of his, and I finally look at him, telling myself that friends surely comfort each other like this. “I’m sure your sister was all of those things, but you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

I shrug, looking away. “Maybe.” My tea has cooled enough to be drinkable, so I sip it. “Hmm,” I say, smirking. “Tastes like you’ve made tea before.”

His nostrils flare slightly. “My family did not have servants.” He pauses, tracing the edge of his mug with his finger, and then adds quietly, “I had a governess until I was fourteen, though.”

I can’t help it. I laugh and it feels like I can breathe a little better again. Daniel cracks a smile, too. He reaches over to brush a stray tear off my cheek when the front door opens, and Jenny comes floating into the room carrying a grease-stained paper bag. She clicks her tongue when she sees us sitting on the couch, then she raises the bag in the air. “Cheeseburgers and fries,” she says, then dumps it onto the counter unceremoniously. Daniel looks at me questioningly.

“It was Ellie’s favorite comfort food.” I shrug. Jenny busies herself with taking burgers and cups of fries out of the bag and laying them out on the counter.

“There’s one for you in here too, Evans, if you’re hungry,” she calls from the kitchen. I look at Daniel with surprise.

“You’re growing on her,” I tease.

“I heard that,” she chastises. Daniel winks at me, and I giggle, standing.

“Give us a minute?” I ask him.

He checks his phone and stands, heading for the door. For a second, I’m afraid we’ve scared him off, but he says, “I need to make a quick phone call, anyway.” He steps outside, and I join Jenny in the kitchen. She’s opening a bottle of wine.

“How’d you know he’d be here?” I indicate the three sets of cheeseburgers and fries sitting on the counter. She squints slightly at me, her hand motionless on the wine bottle for a minute.

“Don’t be mad,” she starts, popping the cork out of the wine bottle and handing it to me. I take a swig directly from the bottle, an eyebrow cocked. “He figured it out. I just confirmed. I tried to play it off, but that man is persistent, I’ll give him that. He read her scholarship plaque or something and put two and two together. But I told him that he was under no circumstances allowed to find you at the cemetery. He better not have.”

I hand the bottle back to her and she takes a swig. I shake my head. “He was waiting for me here when I got back.” We move our cheeseburgers and the bottle of wine to the living room, where we sit on the floor, spreading our food out in front of us.

“I’m surprised you didn’t make him leave.” She tries to catch my eye in question. I’ve never let anyone near me on this day except for her when she brings over the cheeseburgers. I don’t even take calls from my parents on the anniversary. They live in Scotland now, and they were there when she died. I had to take care of everything here by myself, and I still resent their distance, especially on this day.

“I tried to, but I think he knew I didn’t really want him to go, somehow. He told me he wanted to be here with even the messy parts of me.”

She lets out a low whistle. “Did you melt right there or what?”

My laugh sounds hard, even to me. “I mean, he’s still here, isn’t he?” And then I get serious, taking another drink from the wine bottle. “I told you we talked. We decided to just be friends.”

“Who decided?” she asks, taking the bottle. “Because it wasn’t him, I can tell you that much.” She takes a drink. “I’ve seen the way he still looks at you. He tries to hide it, but you’d have to be completely blind not to see it. You deserve to have someone look at you like that.”

I think back to his gentle teasing and his sparkling eyes at the bookshop on Friday night, and I can’t really deny it, but I’ve made up my mind. “I have to hold firm on this one. Pursuing something with him would be completely reckless. He’s leaving in two weeks.”

She drops her chin to glower at me. “He’s a writer, Mac. He can write from anywhere. And besides, so what if it’s a little reckless? The best things usually are.”

“I don’t know why you’re so invested in this. You don’t even like him,” I say suspiciously.