Family Ties

“I told you I needed to find myself first, to be happy on my own before I could be happy with someone else?”

“That’s what I meant. I needed to be true ‘to mine own self’ before I could be true to someone else. ‘True’ can also mean balanced. So I had to find the balance that worked for me, the truth of who I am. I guess that’s when I ‘found’ myself, if that makes sense.”

“Yes, but… what’s it have to do with me?”

“Well, I think you could be more honest with yourself. You’re starting to, and telling yourself that you don’t have to be some Catholic schoolgirl—”

“I’m bringing it up to say you don’t do it much anymore.”

“I never did it in the first place,” she argued.

Mr. Skeptic made an appearance.

“You know, sometimes I really don’t like you.”

“Especially when I tell you things you don’t want to hear.”

I dialed back my skepticism, but she understood that it wasn’t gone completely.

She still didn’t give in, so I braced myself with my hands on the counter and settled in to wait her out. She was trapped, both literally and figuratively, and she knew it.

“Fine,” she said at last. “I need to be honest with myself.”

“Good,” I said without a hint of smugness. “But you already are. Starting to, at least. Like I said, you aren’t trying to be—”

“Look, I see where you’re going. Again. But will you do me a favor?”

“Fair enough.” I thought about it for a moment. “How about madonna?”

“You’re so good with words,” she said earnestly. “Just… come up with something else.”

“Gimme a sec.” I thought about and discarded several others, mostly because they were insulting. “Okay, got it,” I said at last. “How about

‘paragon of virtue’?”

“‘Paragon’ means something perfect, right?”

She thought about it for a moment and nodded.

“Okay. So… back to my original point. You’re starting to be honest with yourself, because you aren’t trying to be a paragon of virtue…” I raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I caught her pun and flashed a grin before I continued, “You also need to be honest about how you feel about Wren.”

“We’re just friends.”

I gazed at her steadily.

“We are!” She stomped her foot automatically, and I did my best not to laugh. The foot in question was currently about eighteen inches above the floor. She tried to hop off the counter, but I blocked her with my body.

“You’re not getting away that easily.” I boxed her in with my arms again.

“If you and Wren are ‘just friends,’ then why does your face smell like lavender?”

“I must’ve gotten some on my hands when I poured it in the bath.”

“It isn’t polite to call someone that.”

“You’re not going to let me go until I tell you what you want to hear, are you?”

“Not until you admit the truth.”

“Fine,” she practically spat. “Wren kissed me. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” I said calmly. “And yes.”

Her brow furrowed and she waited for the other shoe to drop.

“You aren’t upset?” she said at last.

“No. Why would I be?”

“You’re the only one who’s supposed to kiss me.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked semi-sarcastically.

“It’s obvious you think you can only have feelings for one person at a time. And they’re the only person who can kiss you. But that isn’t how it works. Not for some people.”

“But it does for me.”

“So you know me better than I know myself?”

“I think you aren’t being honest about it. I mean, what’s the difference between how you feel about me and how you feel about Wren?”

My skeptical eyebrow did its thing.

“Does Wren make you happy?”

“Honestly? If you’re being true to yourself?”

“Do I make you happy?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

I grinned and waited.

“You know you do,” she finally admitted. “Just not at the moment.”

“I can live with that. Baby steps, right?”

“Right,” she said cautiously.

“So… Wren and I make you happy. And you like kissing both of us.”

“You really want me to say it again?”

“I do.” I grinned, which made her roll her eyes.

“Fine,” she said, less petulantly. “You and Wren make me happy.”

She looked put-upon. “And I like kissing you. Both! There! Are you happy?”

“Yes. Now, was that so hard?”

“No,” she said, although she feigned a grimace.

“Good. So let’s end on a happy note.”

“Well, I was hoping for sex on the kitchen table—”

Her eyes flew comically wide.

“—but I’d settle for a kiss.”

She did her best not to laugh, but her lips pursed in a grin. She compressed them and looked away.

“Uh-oh,” I teased, “now I’ve done it. Made you smile.”

“You know, one of these days I’m going to stay mad at you.”

“You’re probably right. But we’ll deal with that when it happens.