Sisters in Love (Snow Sisters, Book One: Love in Bloom Series #1) (13 page)

Pounding on the front door drew Danica’s
attention from the files she’d been reviewing.

“Danica!”

Kaylie
. Danica opened the door and
Kaylie flew past her in a rage. “I don’t know what the hell is up
with that guy, but Jesus Christ, if he keeps doing what he’s doing,
I’m gonna be the one on your couch.”

Danica watched her sister storm around the
room and flop onto the couch, sending her files to the floor. “Who
did what this time?” She picked up the files and set them on the
coffee table in front of Kaylie.

“Blake. The jerk. Remember him, from the
bar?” Kaylie’s face was red and her eyes were glassy. The way she
slouched on the couch in her wrinkled miniskirt, she looked like a
sullen teenager wronged by the quarterback.

“Blake? As in Blake Carter? AcroSki? That
jerk?”
What the hell?

“Yeah, that jerk. I saw him at Bar None.” She
turned scornful eyes on Danica. “Thanks for that, by the way. If
you hadn’t stood me up, I probably wouldn’t be having such a shitty
night.”

Danica picked up the files and placed Blake’s
on the bottom of the stack, then set them on the dining room table
and sat next to Kaylie.

She let out a long sigh. “Let me guess. He
was at the bar, but he went home with someone else?”
I knew
today would set him back
.

“Yes. No. Shit. He didn’t go home with
someone else.” Kaylie covered her face and screamed into her palms.
When she brought her hands away, her anger had turned to
disappointment. “He acted like he wanted to go home with me,
and—”

“Wait.” Danica stopped her. “What happened to
Chad, or Chaz, or whatever his name was? Didn’t you just get back
from a weekend away with him?”

“Don’t judge me, okay?”

Danica sat back against the pillows,
reminding herself that Kaylie was her sister, not her client.
“Fine. Go on.”

“Chaz and I had a good time, but since I was
going to meet you anyway, I went in for a drink. He was there,
and…Jesus, well, you saw him. You really expect me to turn away
from him?”

You bet your ass, I do
.
He’s my
client, even if he is challenging my ability to stay on the
professional side of things.

She didn’t give Danica time to answer.
“Anyway, we were getting up to leave, and he said some bullshit
about how he couldn’t do it.”

“Did he say why?”
What are you up to,
Blake Carter?

“He just lost his business partner—he died,
if you can believe that.”

“I can.”

“And he said he doesn’t know how to talk to
the guy’s wife.”

Really?
Danica made a mental note to
explore Blake’s discomfort with Dave’s wife. She looked at the file
and thought about telling Kaylie that Blake had become her client.
That would end things right there. He’d be off the table
immediately. Kaylie didn’t date guys who had anything to do with
therapists. She assumed anyone who needed therapy was severely
broken and weak. If only she knew how therapy could help her with
her man-juggling habits—and that Blake was seeking help for the
very same reasons. But she could not reveal that he was a client.
Danica respected her client’s confidentiality, and Blake was no
different, even if Kaylie had been hurt by him.

“Sounds like he’s got a lot to deal with
right now. Besides, why do you want someone other than Chad?”

“Chaz.”

“Chaz,” Danica repeated. Chaz could be Rick,
Steve, Dean, or Carl, for all she cared. She didn’t invest too much
energy into Kaylie’s men. They came and went faster than the wind
changed direction.

Kaylie kicked her UGGs up onto the coffee
table. Danica reached over and took her sister’s boots off of her
feet, then set them on the floor.

“Thanks,” Kaylie said in her best little-girl
voice. “Do you think it’s me?” she asked.

“You? No. You said yourself that he’s got
stuff going on in his life, and it sounds like heavy stuff. I would
steer clear of him.” She had to get her off of the Blake track. He
would do nothing but hurt her in the long run. Danica thought about
that for a second, then decided that Kaylie was equally as capable
of hurting him, especially in his current state. She’d seen men go
through the great realization before: They weren't the man they
thought they were; they drank too much, played around too much, ate
too much, hated women, hated their mothers, hated life. She had a
long way to go with Blake before she would understand his real
issues, but there was one thing she did know. Breaking through and
revealing his faults the way he had was painful for him, and now
she also saw that it had had a tremendous impact. What he did with
that knowledge over the next few weeks would prove whether he was
capable of changing his behavior. More important, whether he really
wanted to change. Turning away from Barbie-doll Kaylie was a step
in the right direction.

“What on earth are you wearing?” Kaylie asked
with a laugh.

Danica looked down at her flowing jacket.
“What? I like it. I took Michelle to the Village this weekend, and
it made me realize that I dress like an old lady.”

“It took a trip to the Village for you to
realize that? You mean my constant reminding did nothing to tip you
off?” She smiled and kicked her stockinged foot in Danica’s
direction.

“Do you like it?” she asked tentatively.

Kaylie assessed Danica’s outfit. “Yeah, I do,
even if it doesn’t really match your slacks.”

“What do you mean? Black matches everything.”
She looked down at her slacks.

“Usually that’s true, but that jacket belongs
with jeans and UGGs, not slacks and heels. You look like Cloris
Leachman, or Maude, or one of those women.”

“Really?” No wonder Blake had been looking at
her that way. And there she was, feeling so confident in just
another old-lady outfit.

Kaylie took Danica’s hand and dragged her
toward the stairs. “Come on, sis. I’ve been dying to give you a
makeover for years.” Kaylie ran up the stairs like a teenager ready
to trade secrets.

Danica followed behind, sighing along the
way.

Upstairs, in Danica’s room, Kaylie passed the
bed and said, “No Twizzlers?”

“A whole drawer full, unfortunately,” Danica
joked.

Kaylie rummaged through Danica’s closet,
pulling shirts and blouses down and tossing them at her. “Put these
on the bed.”

Danica sifted through the mismatched jackets,
jeans, leggings, and shirts. She sat on the bed and watched Kaylie
move from the closet to the dresser, weeding through Danica’s
jewelry and laying out necklaces and earrings across the top. She
pulled open Danica’s top drawer.

“Hey, no need to go in there,” Danica
said.

“Are you kidding me?” Kaylie dug through
Danica’s lingerie, withdrawing the laciest—and the most
uncomfortable—bras and panties that Danica owned.

Danica watched, shaking her head.

“Never in your life have you let me help you
with this,” Kaylie said with her back to Danica.

“Well, maybe change is good.”

Kaylie turned around. “Yeah, maybe it is.”
She came and sat down next to Danica. They both faced the mirror
above the dresser. “Why do I do it?”

Danica tilted her head. “Because you love
clothes and I have a very tenuous relationship with them.”

“No, I don’t mean that. I mean with guys.
Chaz is so nice. He’s really good to me, and he’s definitely hot.
So, why do I, you know, try to get other guys when I’m happy?”

Danica knew better than to answer.

“Come on. You’re a therapist. Can’t you help
me?” Kaylie pleaded.

They stared at each other through their
reflections. Danica leaned her head on Kaylie’s. “You don’t want my
help, Kaylie.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Kaylie said. “But I get
it, you know? I know
you
think there’s something wrong with
what I’m doing.”

“I don’t judge you. I love you,” Danica
answered.

“Thank God someone does.” Kaylie jumped up
and began putting together outfits.

Danica’s heart broke with the realization she
so often had—that everyone carries baggage. Some people’s was just
lighter than others’.

Blake sat in his car in front of the funeral
home, watching a drizzle of freezing rain cut through the dense
fog. People filed into the low, brick building, heads down,
umbrellas perched like shields. Nothing could shield Blake from the
sting of the hours to come. Loneliness settled in around him. He’d
be the only person walking in alone, which up until that very
moment had never bothered him. He took pride in the way he could
own an entrance. His looks and his confidence had served him well,
but now there was nothing he’d like more than to be invisible.

When his cell phone rang, he stared at the
number.
Danica Snow
. He picked it up, his voice tethered by
sadness. “Hello?”

“Blake?”

“Yes, hi, Danica…um…Dr. Snow?” What an idiot.
What was the protocol?

“Danica is fine. I’m looking over my schedule
for next week and realized that you hadn’t confirmed our Monday
appointment. Rather than fill that slot, I thought I’d see if you
were planning on coming in.” The professionalism in her voice left
no room for assumptions about her phone call.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay. Would you like me to hold every
Monday? Same time?”

Blake realized his disregard for her schedule
and pulled himself out of his discomfort enough to apologize.

“It’s not a problem this time, but if you
could either set a day and time or let me know by Wednesday each
week for the following week, that would be helpful.”

Blake sighed. He’d fucked up again. When was
he going to get his act together? “I’m sorry, Danica. Yes, please,
every Monday would be great. Do you have time now, to talk, I
mean?”

An uncomfortable silence passed between them,
and Blake took the hint. “I don’t mean personally. I’m outside of
Dave’s funeral. It’s starting in ten minutes, and I’m not sure
how…what to do. I’m uncomfortable.”

“I can spare ten minutes. I’ll just add the
time to your next bill.”

There it was. All business. “Thank you.”
Suddenly, Blake didn’t feel so alone.

“Do you have a friend with you?” Danica
asked. “Someone to walk in with?”

“Nope. Just me.”

“Okay, well, remember, you are doing this
because Dave was a friend, so this is not really about you. You are
doing this for closure, but really, funerals are for showing
support to the family.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“I know. Most people are too absorbed with
their own feelings or discomfort to look beyond, to the loved ones
who were left behind.”

Blake pictured Danica sitting behind her
desk, pen in hand, her eyes full of compassion.

“Sally and Rusty will be happy you are there.
You were his business partner, his friend. Even if you are
grappling with that friendship, they need you there. You should be
there, to honor and remember Dave.”

Blake looked out the window at a young couple
walking in. The man had his arm around the woman’s shoulders,
pressing her tight against him underneath the umbrella. He wondered
if they felt as uncomfortable as he did. “Right. What does that
mean exactly? What do I do? I’m not good at these things. I’m
better in a bar.” He mustered a little laugh.

Danica remained professional and direct.
“Blake, you can do this. You are more than just a bar guy. Look in
the mirror and tell me what you see. Right now. Go ahead.”

Blake tilted the rearview mirror and looked
at his face. What did he see? He felt stupid looking at himself and
trying to describe what he saw. A handsome guy? A mourning friend?
Nothing seemed right.

“Blake? Top of your head, stream of
consciousness. Tell me what you see.”

“I can’t. I don’t know what I see. A guy. A
confused, sleazy guy.” He turned the mirror away.

Danica sighed. “I thought you might see that.
I know you just looked away from the mirror. Look again.” She
waited.

How the hell?
He moved the mirror.

“I bet if you look deeply enough, you’ll see
the funny guy Dave saw. The confident, exciting, capable skier, the
businessman and friend. He’s in there. Do you see him?”

Blake felt himself smile. “Maybe.” He was
being snarky and he knew it. He got his feelings in check and said,
“Okay, yeah, I can find that guy in there.”

“Good. Now remove the thoughts about being
sleazy. Confused is okay, but sleazy has no place at a funeral.
Find that guy Dave loved and take him inside. Sit down midway, not
up front, not in the back. Up front is assumptive, and back rows
are for people who want to hide.”

“Invisible would be good.”

“No, it wouldn’t. You respected Dave, and he
respected you. Sit down, listen to the words, and let yourself feel
what is said about your friend. Honor him with your attention—and
your emotions. If you cry, it’s okay. If you laugh, it’s okay. If
you feel something, then you’ve done a good job. That’s all that’s
really important. This is about Dave’s family, not about what you
look like in there. Okay?”

The way she said,
Okay
, filled with
compassion, made Blake’s stomach lurch.

“Okay. I can try.”

“I have faith in you, and I’ll see you
Monday.”

Blake hit the End button on his phone and
looked in the mirror again, searching his dark eyes for that person
Danica seemed sure existed.
Do this for Sally and Rusty
. He
climbed from the car and went into the building, searching for the
appropriate middle row and settling in next to a painfully thin,
gray-haired woman with skin that was almost translucent. She turned
to him and smiled, though her greenish-gray, murky eyes were
already tear-filled.