We went silent again. Awkwardness filled the room.
“So are you one of those tea snobs?” I asked him as I fished two mugs and the earl grey out of the cupboard.
“No.” He came up behind me. He was so close I could feel his body heat. “But Anya has some weird obsession with expensive coffee.”
“Don’t let her know I only drink instant,” I said. “She’d probably be horrified.”
We went silent again as we waited for the water to boil. It wasn’t until I heard the crumpling sound that I realized I had been crushing the cardboard box of tea between my fingers.
Zain laid his hand on mine. I loosened my grip around the box. I took out two teabags and put them in the mugs. The kettle whistled. I poured the water. My hand was steadier than I felt inside. Maybe it was steadier because of Zain’s touch.
“Milk?” I asked.
“Black is fine,” he said.
I handed Zain a mug. He lifted it to his mouth, blowing on it to cool it down as he eyed me carefully. I wandered into the living room with my own mug and took a seat on the sofa. He followed and took his own seat next to me.
He slipped his tie over his head and undid a few buttons on his collared shirt, getting comfortable. I tucked my legs under me and took a sip of tea. Zain shifted until my knees were pressed against his thighs. He put a hand on my leg. It was bare, exposed by the short hem of my dress. Usually his touch sent my heart racing, but at that moment it only felt warm and soothing.
I stared down into my mug.
“You don’t have to talk about tonight if you don’t want to,” he said. “But I’d like to understand.”
“You’d like to understand why I almost punched some random guy?” I asked. “Why I screamed in his face? Why I made such a scene at your work party?”
“I’d like to understand why you’re hurting,” he said.
I swallowed a lump in my throat. Tears pinpricked at the back of my eyes.
“Do you remember, in the alley where we first met, I told you my sister, Meg, had died?” I asked.
He rubbed my leg as he nodded.
I set my mug of tea on the coffee table. I inhaled slowly and let it out.
“That was the man who killed her.”
Zain’s dark eyes grew round. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, staying silent.
“They were all partying,” I continued. “Drinking, doing drugs. They got into his car. He crashed into a guardrail. He survived.” Tears gathered along my lash lines. “She didn’t.”
“Fuck, Grace, I’m so sorry.” He put his own mug down and gathered me up into his arms.
“He had rich parents so he got away with it.” I screwed my eyes shut and let the tears fall down my cheeks freely, not bothering to wipe them away. “He never had to pay for what he did.” I buried my head in Zain’s chest, wetting his shirt with the salty tears. “I don’t know who they paid off, but he never even got arrested.” Zain cupped the back of my head, fingers sifting through the hair.
I couldn’t remember the last thing I’d said to Meg. Had we been arguing about her boyfriend, the way we often did back then? Or had she been her old cheerful self, taking off with a hug and a grin? I had no idea. Meg had disappeared for days to spend a long weekend withhim, and by the time the police showed up at our door to tell us the news, I’d completely forgotten the last words I’d ever said to her.
“I miss her so much,” I choked out. “I wish I could see her again, even for just one minute. I’d tell her I was sorry. I’d tell her I love her.” I fisted the fabric of Zain’s shirt in my fingers. “I just want to be with her again.”
Zain made soothing sounds and cradled me close, letting me sob on him until the tears had dried up.
I hoped the last words I’d given her had been warm and loving. I hoped they hadn’t been angry and upset. It would have been a toss-up, back then. We’d had such a close relationship, best friends as well as sisters, even though we were six years apart.
And then she’d met thatasshole, Peter.
The fury began to build again. I tried to push it down, keeping it locked away in a tiny part of my mind I rarely paid attention to. It wasn’t fair to Zain to go stomping around the apartment in a terrible rage. It was useless, as well. Nothing I did would change anything. Sure, punching the guy would have been satisfying, but it wouldn’t bring her back. My sister was dead. Meg was gone forever.
I let out a few last hiccuping breaths and finally wiped at my cheeks. I lifted my head from Zain’s chest.
