Chapter 8: Kitchen Counter

Sullivan's townhouse stood on a quiet square, with black shutters and a brass door knocker shaped like a ship.

Inside, it smelled like coffee and cedar.

He took me straight through the hall to the kitchen and stopped at the island.

The sun poured across a white marble counter, a bowl of lemons, and a knife block.

"Tell me about the clinic," he said.

"You called my mother."

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because I'm ashamed of what my mother did."

He leaned back against the counter with his arms crossed. For a moment he just looked tired.

"And because I wanted to hear her say I was a bastard."

"Did she?"

"She said I had a good voice and that I should eat more."

I laughed before I could stop.

He smiled, and then it went away.

"I don't love your sister," he said.

The kitchen was very quiet.

"I never did. My mother introduced us, and Corinna is kind."

"I asked her because I was tired of arguing."

"That's a hell of a reason."

"It's a coward's reason. I know."

He met my eyes. "I can't leave, Jolene. If I walk away, my mother pulls everything."

"Your mother's care, the list, all of it."

"So you'll marry a woman you don't love for a dialysis machine."

"I'll marry her unless you tell me not to."

"I'm not telling you anything."

"Then tell me what you want."

I crossed the kitchen and stood in front of him.

"I want you," I said. "Here. Now. On this counter, in daylight, with the curtains open."

His eyes closed for a second.

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