The Lemon Sisters (Wildstone #3)(43)

Mindy blinked. “But . . . how did you know all the things, like who goes to bed when, and who’ll eat what?”

“We winged it. Oh, and newsflash, Mason will most definitely eat a sandwich with the crust still on it. He only makes you cut off the crusts because that gives him an extra minute of your time and a hug.”

Mindy put her hand over her mouth and felt her eyes fill again, and Brooke’s expression went from anger to wary. “What are you doing?” she asked.

Mindy sniffed. “Nothing!”

“Oh my God. You’re crying.”

“It’s allergies!”

Brooke let out a rough breath, turned to the tissue box on the counter, and pulled out a tissue. And then another. And then another. And then a fourth . . .

This only made Mindy cry harder. “Oh my God, and now you’re counting in even numbers like Millie. Did I do that to you both?”

“Min . . .” Brooke blew out a breath. “I’ve always been like Millie. I was Millie before there even was a Millie.”

Mindy blew her nose. “How come I didn’t know?”

“Look, you’re good at what you do, and I’m good at what I do. Which is hiding. A lot.”

Brooke shrugged, and Mindy felt like the worst sister on the planet. Seemed like she had a lot of things she needed to be better at. “You’ve been here almost a week and you don’t look like you’re falling apart or losing your mind. What’s the secret? And how come you’re better than me at everything?”

Brooke snorted. “Are you kidding me? The only thing I’m better at is pretending to be better. And I survived your life because I’m only here for a very short time. I’m the fun aunt—not the same as being Mom.” She softened her voice. “Who’s been essentially single parenting on her own. And just because no one starved or died this week doesn’t mean they didn’t miss you, Min. They did. The kids did. Linc did. Hell, even I did.”

“You did?” Mindy whispered hopefully.

“Yes. Do you know how hard it is to read Where the Wild Things Are with the same high level of enthusiasm a thousand times in a row? And if you skip even one little word, Maddox makes you start over.”

Mindy let out a shaky breath. Okay, so having Brooke actually miss her for real had been too much to hope for. “So you did read the binder!”

Brooke shrugged. “Maybe I flipped through it a time or two.” She paused and gave a reluctant smile. “Or four hundred. You’re a nut, you know that, right?”

“Yes.” Oh, how she knew it. “Thanks for being here for me this week,” she said softly. “I know it couldn’t have been easy for you since you don’t have kids of your own.”

Brooke’s smile faded. “Why do you always say it like that?”

“Say what like what?” Mindy asked.

“You throw it in my face that I don’t have kids, like it makes me a lesser woman than you. You do realize that lots of people never have kids and can still take care of others just fine, right? You’ve got no idea what my life is or isn’t. Maybe it’s completely fulfilling just the way it is, did you ever think of that?”

Mindy was taken aback by her sister’s vehemence. “I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said carefully. “But I did just live your life for a week.”

“So?” Brooke asked a little testily.

“So . . .” Mindy knew enough to tread lightly. “It was . . . nice.”

“Nice?” Still sitting on the counter, Brooke crossed her arms. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

“That’s sort of my point,” Mindy said unapologetically. “After a few days walking in your shoes—”

“Literally,” Brooke interjected.

“Whatever, you have great shoes,” Mindy said. “But your life . . . it’s . . .”

“Exciting? Adrenaline-fueled? Adventurous?”

Mindy had no idea how to do this, how to tell Brooke she knew the truth about her job. “I was going to say lonely.”

Instead of being insulted, Brooke rolled her eyes. “That’s because you weren’t working twenty-four-seven. You had no real responsibilities. Trust me, if you’d taken on my job instead of just my friends and my bed, you’d be exhausted.”

Mindy hesitated, but decided to go for it. She went to the doorway and dragged in the duffel bag she’d packed for Brooke. “I brought your cameras home.”

Brooke look shocked. “What?”

“Found them in your closet when I was packing some clothes for you.”

“You mean stealing my shoes,” she said, not bending down to take the duffel bag. In fact, she was eyeing it like it was a bomb.

It was all adding up to an equation Mindy didn’t like—Brooke was also in crisis mode. But she was going through it all alone because she’d rather die than ask for help. “There was a lot of dust on your equipment, which surprised me,” she said quietly. “Your cameras were always your babies.”

Brooke’s expression was carefully blank now. “It’s pollen season,” she said, more than a little defensively. “Dust gets everywhere. And I’m going home, so I didn’t need more stuff.”

“You don’t have to rush off.”