“Not when the conversations are happening inside my house, in my study. And when you just so happen to be the little tramp who’s f**king my Andrew.”
I flinch at the venom in her words. At how easily she drops the f-bomb and possessively calls him ‘my Andrew’. “He’s not yours,” I whisper. He’s mine.
I don’t have the guts to say it.
Her smile is catty. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re temporary. A novelty. He brought you home to shock us, to horrify us into believing he might actually want to be with someone like you, but I know the truth.”
Glancing about the cavernous room, I search for an escape, but the only way I’m leaving is if I walk past her, and I don’t want to. She knows it. The bitch has me trapped. “Shouldn’t you be basting a turkey or something?”
Adele laughs but the sound is brittle. And there’s no humor in it whatsoever. “Trying to distract me? It won’t work.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “This holiday, it’s a very difficult time for my family, you know. The two year anniversary of my daughter’s death is this Saturday.”
Shock courses through me at her words. I’m literally stunned. I can’t believe Drew never told me he had a sister and that she died. Maybe his problems stem from her death? But that makes no sense, not from what I’ve witnessed in his behavior.
“I’m so sorry,” I say automatically and I mean it. The death of a family member is awful and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even this rude witch of a woman. I was traumatized when I lost my grandparents. They were the one steady constant in my world when I was young, since I couldn’t count on my mother, then or now.
“Vanessa would be five now. Going to kindergarten, drawing turkeys she traced around her hand on a piece of paper.” Adele’s voice grows distant, as does her gaze. The sadness emanating from her is palpable and I feel sorry for her despite how terribly she treated me only moments ago. “She was beautiful. Looked just like her father.”
Drew’s sister died when she was three—how? What happened? And right after Thanksgiving? No wonder he didn’t want to come back here for the holiday. It’s probably a painful memory he’d rather forget. And there’s such an age difference between them. He would’ve been what, sixteen, seventeen when she was born? I wonder what took his dad and Adele so long to decide to finally have a child together? “I’m sure she was gorgeous. Your husband is a very handsome man.” I don’t know what else to say and it sounds so incredibly trite I immediately regret it. Especially when she shoots me such an odd look.
“My husband…” Adele’s voice trails off and she shakes her head. “You’re right. Andy is very handsome. As is Andrew.”
She always calls him Andrew. And last night, when I called him Andrew, he didn’t like it. At all. He flipped the hell out, actually.
Was that the trigger? Is she the trigger?
“The Thanksgiving meal will be served in thirty minutes,” she says crisply, all signs of mourning and sadness gone. “Afterwards, I suggest you go back to the guesthouse and pack your bags. I’ll have a taxi come pick you up and take you to the bus station later this evening.”
My mouth drops open in shock. She can’t be serious.
“Oh yes, I have plans, little Fable. Plans that don’t include you since they involve a private family matter and you’re nothing but an intruder. It’s best that you leave. I already spoke to Andrew and he’s in complete agreement with me.” Without another word, she turns on her very thin, very high heel and walks out of the room, leaving me to slump backwards into an overstuffed chair as if my legs can’t hold me up any longer.
She spoke with Drew already and he agrees that I should leave tonight? This makes absolutely no sense. I don’t understand what’s going on and my mind is awhirl with all the information Adele just gave me.
He has a dead, only three-years-old sister. What happened? How did she die? Was it a sickness, a disease that took her, or did an accident happen? I can’t be so completely insensitive to just point blank ask, so I guess I’ll never know unless he tells me.
And since he hasn’t told me so far, I’m not counting on ever knowing.
Stupid to admit, but it hurts that Drew never told me about his sister. That’s a major traumatic experience and he withheld it from me. Of course, he withholds a lot of things. He’s so full of secrets, I still don’t feel like I know him. Not really.
Earlier this morning he was out of the house by the time I finally came out of my bedroom, but I planned it that way. Locking myself up in my room, trying like crazy to get a hold of my mom though she never returned my calls—what else is new. Then I tried calling and texting Owen, but I figured he was sleeping in and I’d been right.
In fact, I still haven’t seen Drew. Is he mad at me for not coming back to his bed? Probably. It’s for the best, though. Whatever this is between us, it’s not happening. Not really.
No matter how badly I want it to.
Drew
“There’s another man in your supposed girlfriend’s life.”
I turn at the sound of Adele’s voice and discover she’s followed me out to the garden that’s connected to the backyard to talk with me. And we’re all alone.
Uneasiness washes over me and I tense my shoulders, prepared to do battle. “What are you talking about?”
Adele shrugs, the look on her face unreadable. “I heard a phone conversation she was having. She told whomever she was talking to that she missed him, she wished that she were spending Thanksgiving with him and she’s planning a movie date for the two of them when she returns home.” She’s totally getting off on giving me this bad news, and I’m trying my best, pretending everything’s fine. That her vicious, shitty words don’t affect me.