Chapter 3

His two fine brows were drawn together, and those beautiful eyes of his were full of anger.

The moment he opened his mouth, it was to accuse me. "Martha Pruitt, Maisie only wanted to borrow one of your dresses. Why did you have to make things hard for her?"

Thank God. I'd actually thought Rhys was angry because I hadn't cared about that vase.

After all, even on the worst night we ever fought, when I smashed the whole house to pieces, I never once brought myself to touch that vase.

I let out a breath and said to him, "I didn't make things hard for Maisie. My closet is open to her anytime. Whatever she likes, she can take."

His face darkened further. He clenched his jaw, then strode over to Maisie all at once, took her hand, and said to me with real venom, "Martha Pruitt, you think anyone wants your things? Maisie is carrying my child. Of course I'll give her the best."

Then he told the driver to bring the car around, and on the side got in touch with the sales staff at all the big luxury boutiques.

I wasn't surprised in the least.

Being married to Rhys this long, we did share plenty of things in common.

For instance, we both loved dressing up the person we cared about.

Before, we dressed up each other. Now I dress up Russ Harding, and he dresses up Maisie.

Seeing that I wasn't moved, Rhys got even angrier.

He gripped Maisie's hand and turned to leave, not noticing at all that she couldn't keep up with him and stumbled a few times.

I didn't have the attention to spare for whatever was going on over there. I turned and took Russ's hand instead. "Are you hungry?"

He shook his head.

I looked at him, wanting to speak but holding back.

There were too many things I wanted to ask him, and I didn't know how to start.

I was afraid of tearing open the sad parts, and afraid he might not want to tell me anything at all.

Maybe everyone gets this tense and raw in front of the person they like.

As if he could read my thoughts, Russ, who had followed silently behind me all day, spoke up on his own.

His voice came out hoarse. "Sis, I'm thirsty."

Russ really was younger than me, but only by fifteen days.

We grew up together, childhood sweethearts, and he never once called me sis. He always coaxed me into calling him big brother instead.

That one word set my face burning and my heart racing. I forgot the questions in an instant and said, all but fleeing, "I'll go pour you some water."

In the tea room, it took me a while to calm down. I patted my own cheeks, then carried the freshly brewed tea back to him.

He cupped the cup and drank with his head bowed, those long lashes casting a shadow across his cheeks. He looked so meek.

I had the housekeeper make him his own meal.

Russ seemed to have something on his mind and ate very little.

I figured he was just tired, so I settled him into the guest room, hoping he'd rest early. I was about to leave when he suddenly caught my finger.

Those dark eyes fixed on me without blinking. He said in a low voice, "Sis, stay with me."

Then he nuzzled the back of my hand with his head.

I really couldn't resist that.

I stayed with him until he fell asleep, and only then did I slip out on tiptoe.

I didn't go back to my own room. I went to the kitchen instead.

Russ had eaten so little that afternoon that I was afraid he'd wake up hungry in the night, so I made him a late-night snack.

The food was just ready, and as I was about to carry it to his room, I turned around and found Rhys. He'd come back at some point without my knowing, and he was standing just outside the kitchen. I had no idea how long he'd been watching.