Chapter 24
Ashton
Afew days later, my father requests an in-person meeting.
It’s our mother’s birthday in two weeks, and because she happens to be passing through Toronto when Dad is there for business, Dad decides that Laandia isn’t too far to travel for a surprise family birthday dinner.
He clearly hasn’t checked his geography—Gunnar flies Fenella and me into St. John’s, Newfoundland, where we take a flight—commercial, because Dad won’t send the plane or let us charter one—into Toronto.
It takes about five hours to get there, a little different from driving across state lines back home. And all for a family dinner.
I’ve done worse, and for less than my mother, but the jolt I got when I said goodbye to Sophie this morning, and the realization I wouldn’t see her for a few days, makes me resentful about the whole idea.
Fen joins me to sit in business class. I try to watch a movie, but my sister has other things in mind.
“You’re still hanging out with Sophie,” she accuses before we even leave Maritime airspace.
I just look at her because the comment doesn’t deserve a response.
“So? Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“There’s nothing to say. I spend time with her. I hang out with her. So?”
“Do you like her?”
“I don’t think it’s possible not to like her. If a person disliked Sophie, I would seriously question their judgment.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I really don’t, and I want to watch this movie, so if you don’t mind…”
“You’re trying to woo her,” she reminds me. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“There’s been no wooing,” I admit.
“Really? You’re not—?”
“We spend time together. We play games—I’m quite the Scrabble whiz. She paints, we watch TV. Sometimes she reads to me. It’s nice.”
I’ve heard the term eyes goggled but I’ve never actually seen it until now. “Who are you?” she demands.
“Your brother,” I point out. “Your most favourite one.”
“But Dad says… Do you think that’s why he wants to see you? To make sure there are no complications with Sophie?”
“I sincerely doubt that. I’m sure anything I’ve done flies right out of his mind as long as the press doesn’t hear about it.”
“Then why does he want to see us? And it’s not just because of Mom.”
I shrug. “No idea. Maybe he just wants to say hi.”
A pause, and we both laugh loud enough for those across the aisle to look over with a frown.
“See, sister? They’re trying to watch a movie, and you’re interrupting them, too,” I tell Fenella.
“You’ve changed,” she says softly.
“No, I haven’t,” I snap. “Why would I want to change?”
“Gunnar said something the other day, how you’re not as bad-tempered these days. He thinks Sophie is a good influence.”
“I’m not bad-tempered. That makes me sound like a jerk. I’m grumpy. Often grouchy. And not a jerk.”
Fenella rolls her eyes.
“Sophie is not an influence for anything,” I continue, my tone twisting as I emphasize the complete opposite of what Sophie has begun to be for me. “She’s… I’m just babysitting her.”
“I think it’s more like she’s babysitting you,” Fenella points out. “She’s keeping you out of trouble.”
“Does she actually know how to get into trouble?” I ask rudely.
Fen frowns. “There he is.”
“I’ve never left.”
“Ash, I think you should leave Sophie alone. She’s a really good person and you’re…”
“Not? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No, just that the differences between you might be a little too great.”
“Don’t fall for a commoner?” I demand. “Is that what you’re trying to tell me? Because, sister dear, pot calling kettle black, because that’s exactly what you did.”
To give Fenella credit, she’s had years to learn how to ignore my jerk tone. Because that was what that was. “Are you falling for her?”
“No,” I snap before I can even think about the question.
“I’m more worried about Sophie falling for you,” Fenella says.
“Well, don’t,” I tell her. “Because there’s no way that someone as great and nice and as much of a little sister as everyone thinks of her as would ever fall for me. Trust me on that.”
I put on headphones after that and manage to ignore Fenella for the rest of the flight. I focus on the movie because I don’t want to think about Sophie, or whether I’m falling for her.
Some days I worry that it’s already too late.
And then the next morning will come, and Sophie will smile at me so brightly, like one of the stars shining on her mural, and I’m reminded that she is too good for me.
That Fenella shouldn’t worry about me hurting Sophie, because unless I get my head into the game and stop comparing her to stars, and thinking she’s as comfortable to be around as one of my old concert T-shirts, then I’m going to be the one walking away with my heart in pieces.
And I’m not about to let that happen again.