“The young photographers’ showcase,” I told her.

“That’s right! I remember now! That was your freshman year. You were so proud.”

“I placed second out of over a hundred entries. It was a pretty big deal at the time.”

“How did I not know any of this?” Zoe asked indignantly.

“You were too busy taking the heads off your Barbie dolls.” I ruffled her hair again.

She thwacked my arm and I winced. My sister had a hell of an arm.

“So what brought on this brain fart?” Zoe prodded. She took the pile of plates and handed them to me and the two of us went into the dining room to set the table.

“Well, I was talking about it with someone and it got me thinking—”

“Someone? What someone got you thinking about an old hobby that your favorite sister didn’t know about?”

I groaned, “God, Zoe, you pick up on the most insignificant details.”

She grinned. “Call it a gift. Now spill. Who’s the someone?”

“Her name’s Corin, all right. Now fucking drop it,” I warned.

“Ohh, it’s a girl someone!” she squealed.

“I’ve never met a dude named Corin,” I pointed out.

“Is she a friend? How do you know her? Why were you talking about photography? How did she even know about it?”

I finished laying out the silverware and moved the floral centerpiece from the table. “Are you going to keep asking me questions or can I answer a few?”

“Please, answer.”

“What are you answering?” Mom asked, coming in with a dish of pasta. My dad followed her with a plate of fresh bread and a bowl of broccoli.

“Beck’s been hanging out with a girl named Corin.”

“Oh really? Who’s she?” my dad asked, setting the dishes in the center of the table and taking his seat.

The rest of us followed suit and started serving ourselves.

“She’s just someone I know. We’ve gone out a couple of times,” I said nonchalantly. I had planned to tell my parents about Corin. I wanted them to know about her. I just didn’t want Zoe grilling me with a thousand intrusive questions.

“That seems pretty soon after breaking up with Sierra, don’t you think?” my mother asked.

“Oh, is she a rebound?” Zoe jumped in.

“No, she is definitely not a rebound. Things had been over with Sierra for a long time.”

“That’s no reason to dive into something with someone new, Beck. You should be concentrating on you and your health. Not starting a relationship,” Mom scolded gently, and I sighed.

“I’m not diving into anything. She was a friend. Now we’re sort of dating—”

“How do you sort of date? Is that like being sort of pregnant?” Zoe asked, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

“Is it serious?” Mom pried, and I regretted letting Zoe bring up the subject at all.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I admitted.

It was definitely serious. In my heart it couldn’t be more serious. But I didn’t want to share that with my nosy family.

“How long have you been dating?” Mom asked, putting her inquisitor hat on. No one could dig out information like my mother. She was relentless.

“Not long. A week or so,” I mumbled, eating quickly, hoping that if I kept my mouth full, I wouldn’t have to answer their questions.

“A little over a week and you’re already serious about her? Damn, she must have a golden hooha!” Zoe exclaimed.

“Zoe, seriously, stop talking like you’re with your friends. That’s not the sort of thing you should say in front of your parents,” Mom said tiredly.

Zoe ignored her completely. “Well, if you’re so into this chick, that means we have to meet her, of course. I have to make sure she’s not another Sierra. Because I won’t let you go down that road of crazy again,” she announced, waving her fork in the air.

“She’s nothing like Sierra, no worries there.” I was getting a headache.

“Your sister’s right though, you should bring her over for dinner. We’d like to meet her. What did you say her name was again?” Dad asked.

“Corin. Corin Thompson.”

“And what does Corin do?” Mom sniffed. She could be very judgmental. She had never warmed to Sierra, particularly after my ex’s less-than-supportive behavior after my cardiac arrest. And she had been less than pleased with Sierra’s lack of career aspirations.

“She runs her own business. She owns Razzle Dazzle, the pottery studio downtown.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice,” Mom said, looking grudgingly impressed.

“Bring her over next week, Beck. I’ll come home from school. Play the protective sister bit. I’ll get the skinny on your new woman.”

“You don’t need to be protective where Corin’s concerned. She’s…well…she’s sort of amazing.”

Zoe blinked a few times, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Damn, you’ve got it bad. I have to meet her.”

I let out a long, tortured breath, knowing there was no point in making an excuse. They’d wear me down eventually.

“Fine. We’ll come next Wednesday after work. Nothing special. Corin’s a meat and potatoes kind of girl. You don’t need to go all out. She’ll be happy with whatever you make,” I told my mom.

“What about a pot roast. Will she eat that?” Mom asked.

“Yeah. A pot roast would be great, Mom.”

Mom and her pot roasts…

Dad had lost interest in the conversation and was reading the news on his phone. Zoe was texting.

Maybe I should have asked Corin before I had agreed to a meet and greet with the family.

But it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

Right?

Chapter 16

Corin

Things with Beckett were getting pretty serious.

More serious than I had ever intended for them to get.

He had infiltrated my life and dug in deep.

I tried not to care about him.

It was like trying to stop a nuclear bomb from melting your face off.

Impossible.

It worried me. This closeness between us. The connection. While I had always craved it, it was overwhelming. It scared me.

To care so much so fast.

Because I wasn’t in a position to connect, to care about anyone.

Not when I knew that I wouldn’t be around long enough to experience it fully.

That was reinforced when I woke up the morning of Geoffery’s service in pain. I rolled into a fetal position, not wanting to get out of bed.

Mr. Bingley’s furry body was pressed against my face and I started sneezing, making the aching worse.

“Get away, Mr. Bingley,” I moaned, pushing him off the bed.

With a twitch of his tail—his version of fuck you—he sauntered off, not caring in the least about my health crisis.

My lymph nodes felt swollen. I pushed and prodded my armpits and the sides of my neck. Yep, they were definitely swollen.

That could be all manner of illnesses.

My body was most likely fighting off something very serious. It all made sense. Just when I was finding some modicum of happiness, it would be snatched away.

Shakespeare could have written my life. I was a walking, talking tragedy.

Geoffery’s memorial service was today. I didn’t want to go. I knew it would be bad for me. The last funeral I had attended had been my father’s.

I had sat in the front row with my sister, staring at his casket, wishing I could crawl into it with him.

Tamsin had cried but I couldn’t. My tears were stuck behind dry, burning eyes. They wouldn’t fall. No matter how much I wanted them to.

I had stopped crying weeks before. When I realized they didn’t solve anything. When I figured out shedding them was useless.