Time (Laws of Physics #3)(39)

Marie chuckled. “Think about it, doofus. They’re both in science, at the top of their field, in high demand. They both love to tell science jokes and puns, they both—”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. When did you hear Mona tell a science joke?”

Marie gave me a smirk, it looked self-satisfied. “We talk.”

My eyebrows jumped. “Who?”

“Me and Mona.”

My eyebrows pulled low. “When?”

She glanced at her nails, saying loftily, “All the time.”

I choked. Because—with the time difference and her schedule and my schedule—I could barely get Mona on the phone.

Marie laughed. “Okay, okay. Not all the time. But Mom, Mona, and me are in a three-way.”

Wincing, horrified, I closed my eyes. “Please. Please never use the phrase three-way while referencing you or Mom ever, ever again. In fact, you’re not allowed to use the phrase at all.”

My sister laughed, good and loud, and a second later a pillow hit me in the face. “Get over yourself! A three-way text message conversation, you ass.”

Now I was laughing, and I opened my eyes to locate the pillow she’d thrown, tucking it behind my back with the others. “Thank you. I needed another pillow.” God, it felt good to laugh.

Mona makes you laugh.

My smile waned and I swallowed, breathing through the tight pain in my chest. I miss her.

“But back to what I was saying.” She rested her cheek against her palm. “Mona and Matt, very similar.”

“Other than being brilliant, into science and nerdy puns, I don’t see the similarities.”

“What about their parents?”

Lifting an eyebrow, I settled more completely against my pillows. “What about their parents?” I didn’t know much about Matt’s parents.

And, now that I considered things, other than what could be read in the newspaper, in magazines, etc. I didn’t know much about Mona’s parents—as parents—either. Leo didn’t talk about them, but I always thought that was understandable. As Marie had said, they were hugely famous. I figured he wanted to protect them, like I would want to do with my parents.

“They both grew up with neglectful parents,” Marie said, as though this was common knowledge.

Crossing my arms, I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”

Now Marie lifted an eyebrow. “Matt was raised by a series of nannies, housekeepers, and cooks. So was Mona.”

“Just because a family has a nanny doesn’t mean the kids aren’t raised by their parents.”

“Oh, I definitely agree! Just like, if a kid goes to daycare, it doesn’t mean the parents don’t raise the child. But in their cases—Matt and Mona—they were. They were neglected.”

“How do you know this? I mean, about Mona. How do you know this about Mona?”

Marie seemed confused. “Uh, it’s obvious.”

Staring at my sister, I struggled to complete a thought, my brain was going in too many directions.

Taking pity on me, she leaned forward. “Look, tell me if any of this sounds familiar, okay? And this probably applies to Leo too. Mona feels like she needs to prove herself to people in order for them to be her friend or love her. True? You know how Leo is always doing people favors? Worrying about the status of his friendships? That’s what it’s about.”

I scowled, but I didn’t know why I scowled.

Marie continued, “But back to Mona. She doesn’t open up easily, at all, and trust is super hard for her. In fact, she can count the number of people she trusts on one hand. Maybe three fingers. But once she trusts, she trusts. She bends over backward to make those people happy, worries she’ll lose them if she does something wrong. So, she tries to put people in boxes, assigns labels to relationships, so she can lower her expectations, so she’s never hurt.”

My body ached. It had nothing to do with recovering from the flu. I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “That’s, uh, that’s pretty accurate.”

My sister gave me a sympathetic smile. “That’s Matt.”

“So, what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do you, you know, make sure he’s happy?”

She frowned, her mouth forming a subtle sneer. “Uh, I don’t. Making sure Matt is happy is not my job. It’s his job, and only if he wants to be happy.”

I blew out a breath, frustrated. “How do you keep him from worrying?”

Marie shrugged again. “I can’t. If he wants to worry, that’s on him.”

“Marie,” I growled, gritting my teeth. “Come on. You know what I mean.”

“Actually, I don’t. It almost sounds like you think you’re responsible for Mona’s feelings. That’s one hundred percent wrong. You’re only responsible for your own feelings, just like she’s only responsible for hers. If she wants to worry, that’s her decision.”

“But what can I do to help her worry less?”

“You’re not hearing me, Abram. You do nothing. You love her—which you’re going to do anyway—and that’s it.”

I didn’t like that answer, and my sister must’ve realized it, because she chuckled, shaking her head as she stood and walked to the door. “The horse is going to do what it wants. You can’t make the horse drink the water, even if it needs the water, even if it’s miserable without it.” She turned and walked backward out of the room. “Once you figure that out, and if you need to commiserate with someone about stupid, brilliant thirsty horses, give me a call.”