She arched an eyebrow and smiled, and my heart soared. Christ, I’d finally managed to get her to crack a real smile.
“Yes, well, no doubt you’ve never had to use one,” she said. “But I could always show you if you really wanted to learn.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But another time. Right now I’d like to know something else about you. Why’d you lie on your CV?”
The smile faded as her body stiffened, and I waved my hand and grinned. “It’s fine, it’s fine. You’re not in trouble at all. I’m just curious. I honestly thought it might be because you wanted to see me again, but I made a right dick of myself in assuming that, didn’t I?”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Well, I guess I felt like I needed to embellish it a bit to stand out, because I imagined there would be hundreds or even thousands of other applicants. I did have some experience at an after-college job I had for a while, but that was only for three years. So I added in an extra two years for all the time I spent cleaning up at home when I was younger.”
“Messy siblings?”
She chewed on her lower lip and suddenly seemed very interested in picking at a split end in her hair. “Alcoholic parents, actually,” she finally said. “I had to help clean up after them a lot when they were drinking, not to mention take care of my younger brothers.”
“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“It’s fine. I’m okay with talking about it now. It was hard at the time, because they would lie all the time about getting help and then leave us in the lurch to go on another bender.”
Jesus, no wonder she couldn’t stand liars. Her own parents—the two people who a child was meant to trust most in the world—had screwed her up by constantly lying to her when she was younger and making her assume responsibility for all their shit. It sounded like she’d really had a lot on her plate from a young age onwards, and it was no surprise that she’d become so independent after such an experience; something I so admired in her.
“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”
She gave me a brave smile. “It’s okay. They finally got serious about sorting themselves out a few years ago, and they’ve gotten much better.”
“Well, it’s good to hear they finally got help,” I said.
“Yeah. I’m actually much closer with them now that they’ve sorted themselves out. They’re really proud of me for getting my degree, and I’m proud of them for getting better.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” I said with a nod. “And if you’re comfortable sharing that story with me…do you think you might feel comfortable enough to tell me why you were crying when I walked in?”
I hoped I wasn’t pushing her too far, because her body stiffened again, but she nodded anyway. “Your brother said some things.”
“Michael?” Anger flared in me; I might have guessed. I loved my brother to the extent that biology demanded and a little beyond that, but I also knew him to be a jealous and petty little shit-stirrer. “What did he say?”
“Nothing major.” She obviously didn’t want to cause trouble.
“You just said he said some things.”
“They were nothing. I think I just overreacted.”
“The things he said made you cry. That’s not nothing.”
“Well, it wasn’t just that.” Keira looked away.
I didn’t want to upset her further, but if my brother had hurt her, then dammit, I wanted to know the details. “What else?”
“I guess your mother…”
“My mother?”
“It was nothing.”
“Dammit, Keira, it can’t all have been nothing!”
“Sometimes,” Keira raised her own voice now, matching my intensity, “a lot of nothings add up to something. You think things are fine and then a bunch of stuff happens that’s meaningless in itself but gradually wears you down. So you have a good cry, you put it behind you, and you get back to work tomorrow.”
“What did they say?”
“Well, apparently everyone in your family thinks I’m sleeping with you,” she snapped. She probably hadn’t meant to say it, but it was out now.
“What?”
For a moment Keira paused, clearly frustrated that she’d said what she’d said, but now that it was out there, it seemed like she’d figured that she might as well fill me in on the rest. “Your brother thinks you picked me as your maid to be your little whore. Apparently it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“That’s a flat out lie.”
“And your mother…well, I thought we were getting along—looking at paintings—and then I happened to mention that you and I had met in New York, and suddenly it seemed like she thought I was just another of her son’s bimbos. Someone who’s never going to be good enough for him.”