“It’s really not a good time.”
Joyce nodded but looked at Charlize with down-turned lips. “Will it ever be?”
Probably not. But it was time to close the door on this situation, let go and move on.
“Make it quick,” she said and opened the door wider.
Joyce followed Charlize inside. She walked into the kitchen, opened her top cupboard, pulled out two wineglasses and filled them with cold chardonnay, then slid one across the counter. This talk called for wine.
Joyce picked up a glass and looked around. “You haven’t decorated?”
“Hasn’t been a priority,” she replied flatly.
“Right,” Joyce whispered, tapping a finger on the stem of her glass then returning her gaze to Charlize. “I wanted to do this earlier but I didn’t think you’d listen. But after Aunt Bess’ birthday, seeing that you’ve moved on with Connor—I thought maybe you’d be ready to hear my apology.”
“Connor and I have broken up,” she said. The words grated through her chest.
“I’m sorry.” Joyce’s brow wrinkled.
Damn, it would’ve been easier if she didn’t actually look sorry. If Joyce wore her usual smug expression, Charlize could just kick out her cousin and be done. She took a long gulp from her glass. The chardonnay slid hard and dry over her tongue.
“Look, Joyce, you’re right. I have moved on and I’m willing to put this crap behind us if that’s what you want, but honestly I don’t want your apology. The last thing I want is to re-hash the whole thing. I’m not saying we can be friends again but I’m willing to let it go.”
Joyce’s delicate ash-colored brows rose slightly. “Well I’m glad, that’s not what I expected.” She swallowed and clutched her glass to her chest. “But can I just explain? I really need you to know why I did what I did.”
“Is that what you need?” Charlize ran her tongue over her teeth behind closed lips. “Well go on then, unburden yourself.”
Color crept over Joyce’s cheeks. “I’m not saying this is any excuse but Dad had just passed away so suddenly—so unexpectedly. I was in shock, I wasn’t thinking straight.”
Anger flared in Charlize’s chest before the look on Joyce’s face squished it. Grief, real grief twisted her petite features. Her nose scrunched.
“I went to your apartment because I needed someone to talk to but you weren’t there. You’d already started working at Halifax. Simon answered the door.” Joyce stopped and looked into her glass then her chest expanded. “I was crying. He comforted me then he kissed me. I was upset—I just needed something to cling to. I didn’t mean for anything to happen…” Joyce’s eyes glistened and she sucked in her lips.
A war raging in her head—a battle between the desire to slap the traitorous bitch and a small voice that said we all fuck up and Joyce was family—Charlize watched her cousin.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, Joyce,” she said.
Joyce’s lips parted before she gave a tight smile. Silence stretched and Charlize swallowed more wine then glanced at the clock on the oven.
“Can I ask you something?” Joyce whispered.
“Sure.”
“Were you and Simon happy? I mean were you happy when you were with him?” Joyce took the corner of her lip between her teeth.
Charlize studied her, looked for the telltale signs that the illusion had already burst and her cousin now glimpsed the man Simon really was. “I wasn’t. We were wrong for each other. It sounds stupid to say that I was unhappy, given that I stayed, given I was heartbroken when our relationship ended.” She leveled her gaze at her cousin and hoped the message hit home. “But it’s easy, so easy to get stuck. So easy to wake up one day and not know how you became so dependent, so caged in unhappiness that the only thing worse than staying is the fear of leaving.” She set down her glass and leaned closer. “But it’s not too late for you, Joyce. You haven’t been together so long. You still have time either to get out or set the tone for how things are going to be. Don’t let yourself be caged, that’s not love.”
Joyce blinked repeatedly and set her still-full glass next to Charlize’s “I didn’t say anything was wrong with us.”
“Really? Tell me then, when was the last time you went out with friends? Hell, when was the last time you had a telephone conversation you didn’t have to feel guilty about or hide?”
Her cousin said nothing but her lips quivered.
Charlize continued. “Let me guess, it’s been what, nearly four months now? I bet your friends are starting not to call anymore. I bet about now he’s talking to you about dropping out of college?”