That fact was on refrain in my thoughts.
It wasn’t fair for me to be jealous about the life Van lived, simply because it was before we met.
“And the last time you slept together…” I prompted.
“I don’t remember.”
“Sounds like you two hit it off.”
Van reached out.
I stepped closer until our hands connected and our fingers intertwined.
“You are my red sin, Julia.” He looked down at our hands. “When we touch…fuck that. When we’re in the same room, I feel you. I’ve never had this before. Definitely not with Lena. Lena and I are better as friends, co-conspirators, and business cohorts than we are in a physical relationship. You are the only woman I’ve ever asked to marry me.”
“Okay. Does Lena need to worry about a gunshot from Madison?”
“I believe Madison is in custody.”
“You know what I mean,” I said, dropping his hand to get my coffee.
“Madison probably wouldn’t shoot her.”
I turned back to him. “Probably?”
He explained, “She’s Madison’s sister.”
This was the bad soap opera again. “Don’t tell me, they’re twins.”
“No. Lena is older.”
I took a deep breath, went to a smaller chair, and pulled it next to Van’s bed. “Okay. You told me once that when we had uninterrupted time, you’d tell me more.” I feigned a grin. “Today is that day.” I reached for Van’s phone. “Let Lena, your… what is she?”
“Friend.”
My mind made the connections. Madison was married to Phillip, Van’s brother. That made Madison a sister-in-law. Lena was Madison’s sister.
Was that a familial connection?
I shook my head. “Let yourfrienddeal with business. You concentrate on getting better and since we’re here and have all this time…talk.”
Van pushed the table over his bed away. It glided on wheels. With obvious effort, he moved toward the side of the bed. Taking care to not tangle the tubes attached to his arm, he shifted one leg and then the other to the floor.”
“Wait, are you supposed to do that?” I asked.
He lifted his chin toward the wall. “I’m supposed to use that.”
“The walker?”
He nodded.
Standing, I pushed my chair out of the way and wheeled the walker to the side of the bed. Van reached for the silver stand holding bags of fluids.
“If you’re contemplating running to get out of the conversation,” I said, “I think I can catch you.”
Gripping the handles of the walker, he slowly stood.
The agony in his expression was enough for me to postpone our discussion.