Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

“Kelly?”

She turned away and struggled to get control of herself. The tears continued, along with the cries, until she couldn’t catch her breath. She had no idea where all the emotion had been stored, but once released, it wasn’t stopping for anyone.

Griffith pulled her close. She started to jerk away, then collapsed as his concern made itself felt in the way he stroked her back and murmured her name.

She had no idea if it had been seconds or minutes before she was finally able to breathe again. She drew back and wiped her face. He shocked her by holding out a snowy-white handkerchief.

“S-seriously?” she asked, her voice still broken.

He grinned. “My dad makes me. It’s a thing for him. I never saw the point, until now. I’m going to have to call and tell him he was right. That will make him happy.”

She took the handkerchief and wiped her face, then tucked it in her pocket. “I’ll wash this before I return it.”

“That’s kind of the least of my worries. What’s going on?”

His look of concern, his quiet voice, nearly had her sobbing again. She took a deep breath and told herself she was fine. Or she would be.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m not usually a crier.”

“No surprise. You’re tough. So whatever it is has you in knots. Let’s talk about it.”

He led her to the desk chair, then settled in the extra seat before leaning forward and taking her hand in his. She touched one of the roses again and marveled at their perfection.

“I don’t want my parents to get back together.” Not what she’d been thinking, at least not on the surface, she thought in some surprise. “I hate that she’s here, that she’s disrupted our lives. I want her to go away.”

Griffith didn’t speak.

She sniffed. “My dad wants me to have a relationship with her. He wants me to get to know her. As if.”

One corner of his mouth turned up. “As if?”

She smiled. “You know what I mean. It’s not going to happen. I hate her.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I really do.”

“Kelly, she’s your mom. You may be angry at her and resent her actions. You may be frightened of being like her and worry that she’s going to destroy the family you’ve made, but you don’t hate her. You’re not the kind of person who hates anyone, let alone your mother.”

“I’m not excited about you being insightful.”

His steady gaze never wavered. “You’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Fine. I want her to leave and I don’t want her sleeping with my dad.”

“Fair enough, but if it’s going to happen, you can’t stop it.”

“Gross. I don’t want to think about it.” About them. She told him about the pj top. “She’s just everywhere. I wasn’t excited when Olivia came back, but that’s different. Now I like having her around. We’re sisters and we’re finding our way back to that.” She held up her hand. “By contrast, Mom hasn’t said a word about what happened before or after she left. Until my mother is willing to admit what she did and ask for forgiveness, she doesn’t get a second chance. I’ll never trust her.”

She half expected him to say she didn’t have a choice. Instead he linked his fingers with hers and told her, “What’s that old saying? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me? It’s not bad advice.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t hate her but it’s okay not to trust her?”

“Just my opinion.”

“You’re very fond of your opinion.”

One shoulder rose slightly. “I can’t help it. I’m a guy.”

She laughed, then leaned forward and kissed him. “At the risk of stating the obvious, you’re a pretty impressive guy.”

“Tell me about it.” His expression turned serious. “I want to talk about what happened the other night. With us.”

What on earth was he—

She jerked her hand free, straightened and thought longingly of bolting for the door. “I’m fine.”

“I’m not. We have to talk.”

“Why? It was great. You were great. Fantastic.”

She tried to sound as enthused as possible because if she didn’t, he wouldn’t believe her and then they would have an excruciating conversation about what had and hadn’t worked and why she was the way she was and maybe he should just kill her now.

“I’ve been doing some reading,” he began.

“What?” The word came out loud and at a higher pitch than she’d planned. She cleared her throat. “What do you mean you’ve been reading?”

“I’m not sure what’s confusing about the sentence. I’ve been trying to figure out why you weren’t able to climax. You never said that it was a first time thing, that after you relaxed, you’d be fine, which tells me that being with someone new isn’t the problem.”

She folded her arms across her chest, closed her eyes and wished she could just up and die.

“I don’t think there’s a physical problem,” he continued. “With your anatomy. You would have mentioned that. Which means it’s something else. Maybe you won’t relax enough to let go. Maybe you’re afraid of something. Maybe it’s your mother.”

Her eyes snapped open. “My mother? Are you telling me you think I can’t have an orgasm because of my mother?”

“I think it’s a possibility. You saw her behavior and you experienced the consequences. Maybe sex and devastation are linked in your head. I doubt it’s that simple. I suspect there are a lot of reasons you’re not willing to let go.”

She once again glanced at the door, but it seemed incredibly far away and she had a bad feeling that Griffith wouldn’t let her run away. He seemed determined to have it out with her, regardless of what she wanted. Still, she had to try.

“This isn’t a conversation I want to be having.”

“I’m sure.”

She waited. “That’s it?”

He leaned toward her. “Kelly, this is important. We have to figure out the problem and how to solve it.”

“No, we don’t. I’m fine. Completely happy.”

“I want to believe that. Just to confirm what you said the other night, you’ve never climaxed, even by yourself?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Stop, I beg you.”

“I’ll take that as a no.”

They weren’t going to talk about this, she told herself as she straightened and glared at him. She was going to keep completely silent until he ran out of steam, then she was going to find a bar and start drinking. Even if it was barely noon.

“Do you like the touching?” he asked.

She pressed her lips together and refused to answer.

“When I stroke your breasts? Is that nice?”

She felt a whisper of sensation in the aforementioned body parts.

“Yes,” she said grudgingly. “It’s nice.”

“Like you’re aroused?”

She rolled her eyes.

“So maybe heat and tingles?”

She crossed her arms again. “I’m starting to think going out with you was a bad idea.”

“What about oral sex? Do you like that?”

She felt herself blush. “Griffith!”

“It’s a legitimate question. Do you like it?”

“I guess.”