all the disguise, I put on a light bra and a kickin' peau de soie blouse, and contemplated my choices for things that wouldn't press agonizingly against the bruise on my back. The low-rise panties and blue jeans seemed the only possible choice, other than walking around half-naked...
I flipped on the sleek little flat-screen TV that had come with my new bedroom suite, a luxury I'd never even considered before, and tuned to WXTV. Just to see.
They were finishing up the news portion of the morning show and moving to the weather. They had a new Weather Girl, I saw immediately, and hey, I felt just a little bit bitter about it for a second, because she was stunningly pretty and had a lovely smile and was well dressed in a blue jacket and silk blouse and tailored slacks, and what the hell?
The anchors were laughing. She was forecasting a storm for later today.
The camera pulled back, and back...
... and there was Marvin. Squeezed into a foam rubber cloud suit, with little silver drops hanging off of him, sweating like a pig and glaring like a pit bull. Red with fury.
"Sorry," the new Weather Girl said, "but you out there know that Marvin always puts his integrity first, and today, he's paying off a bet to Joanne, our former meteorological assistant. Love the outfit, Marv. So what's today going to be like out there?"
"Cloudy," he snapped. "Severe storms. And-"
Water. Lots of it. Dumped from way up high. He gasped, jumped, and they cut his mike before he got more than the first syllable of the curse out, but the camera itself was shaking from the force of the laughter on the set.
Son of a bitch.
It was probably evil of me to feel so good about watching him dance around dripping and cursing, but, well... I was at peace with it.
I was feeling almost happy when I walked out into the living room, heading for the kitchen. It was still dark outside-cloudy, with muttering and lightning continuing over the ocean-so I didn't immediately see my sister's new boyfriend until he flicked on the light next to the couch.
He was sitting on one end, sprawled gracefully, head leaning back against the thick leather tufted back. Sarah was curled on her side with her head resting on his thigh. She was wrapped in a thick terrycloth robe that gaped at the top, showing the inside slopes of her breasts. She looked exhausted and vulnerable, and he looked down at her with a careful expression, and touched her very gently. Fingertips tracing her cheek.
I knew that touch. That was the way David touched me.
That was regret, and love.
She didn't move, even with the light blazing down, and continued to breathe deeply and steadily. Deeply asleep. Eamon's long, elegant fingers threaded through her frosted hair and stroked the curve of her head in long, soothing motions, as if he couldn't bear to stop touching her.
I wondered for a second if he even knew I was there, and then he said, "Good morning." He looked up. "Did you enjoy the new bed?"
"Yeah." I paused, watching him, trying to figure out how they'd ended up on the couch like this when Sarah should have gone straight to her room, tired as she was. Also, when and how Eamon had found his way into the apartment. Sarah had probably given him a key already. She was like that. "Did you guys sleep out here?"
"I haven't slept at all," he said, and it struck me that he was speaking in a normal tone of voice, not keeping his voice down. That was odd.
Then he shifted a little, and Sarah's head rolled off his leg, limp as a rag doll.
Too limp. Her eyelids didn't even flutter.
Chapter Thirty-one
"Sarah?" I asked. No reaction. "Oh my God, what's wrong with her?"
Eamon didn't answer. He readjusted her to put her head back in his lap, stroking her hair, the curve of her face. A lover's slow, steady touch.
I could not understand what I was seeing in his expression. "Eamon? Is there something wrong with her?"
"No," he said. "Nothing that won't wear off in a few hours. She may have a few side effects; most likely some mild nausea and a dull headache." His eyes remained fixed on me.
I couldn't believe it. Couldn't honestly fathom it. "What are you