Taking a steadying breath, I unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Hi.” Her voice came out small and strained.
“Hi.” I kept my tone polite but guarded, one hand still gripping the door handle. When she didn’t say anything, I added, “Well, this is unexpected.”
She held up the flowers, a massive arrangement of white roses and baby’s breath that probably cost her a pretty penny. “These are for you.”
I looked at the flowers, then back at her face. “Can I ask why?”
“Can I... can I come in?” Her fingers tightened on the stems. “Please?”
For a moment, I considered saying no. Considered making her have this conversation on my doorstep, if she wanted to have it at all. But despite everything that had happened between us, she was still my sister.
I stepped back, holding the door open wordlessly.
She murmured a quiet thank you as she followed me inside.
I closed the door and turned to face her, crossing my arms over my chest. “I suppose you want coffee.”
“If you don’t mind.”
I led her through to the kitchen, busying myself with the coffee maker, grateful for something to do with my hands. “You can put those in water if you want. There’s a vase in the cabinet above the fridge.”
Megan moved around the kitchen with careful steps, like she was afraid of breaking something. Or maybe like she was afraid I might ask her to leave. She found the vase and filled it with water, arranging the flowers with more attention than the task required.
The silence was becoming oppressive, so I had to think of something to say. “They’re beautiful.”
With her back still turned to me, she said, “They’re an apology.” Then a pause. “Or the beginning of one, anyway.”
I leaned against the counter, watching her continue to fuss with the flower arrangement. “Okay.”
She turned around, the gift bag still clutched in her hands. “I wanted to... I need to apologize. For how I’ve been. For what I said at the dress fitting. For...” She gestured helplessly. “For everything, really.”
I studied her face, looking for signs of manipulation or performance. But all I saw was genuine distress, the kind of raw emotion Megan usually worked very hard to hide.
“Go on,” I said quietly.
She took a shaky breath. “I know you probably think this is too little, too late. And maybe it is. But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking since you walked out of that boutique, and I realized some things about myself that I don’t like very much.”
The coffee maker gurgled to life behind me, filling the silence. I waited for her to continue.
“Mom has been putting so much pressure on me about having the perfect wedding. Every vendor, every detail, every photo has to be absolutely flawless. And I let myself get caught up in it. I let myself think that you were somehow incompatible with that vision.” Her voice cracked slightly.
I poured two mugs of coffee, adding cream to both and gestured to the table. Once we were both seated, I said, “It’s not an excuse.”
She wrapped her hands around the mug like she was trying to warm herself. “No, it’s not. There is no excuse for being so rude to you. There’s no excuse for making you feel like you needed to change yourself to be in my wedding. There’s no excuse for any of it.”
The words hung heavily between us, more honest than any conversation we’d had in years.
“So what brought on this sudden epiphany?”
A flush crept up her neck. “Charles said I was being a dick.”
Despite everything, I felt my lips twitch. “Charles said that?”
“Charles never says anything critical. Ever. He’s like a golden retriever in human form.” She managed a weak smile. “When he told me I was treating you terribly and that he was ashamed of my behavior, I knew I’d really fucked up.”
I took a sip of my coffee, processing this. Charles had always seemed nice enough, but I’d never thought of him as someone who would stand up to Megan. Maybe I’d misjudged him.
