The Lemon Sisters

by Jill Shalvis

  They made a run to McDonald’s first because . . . well, hash browns and sausage biscuits were Mindy’s very secret passion. Almost as good as orgasms, but since she could hardly remember those, maybe hash browns were even better. She pulled up to the pay window and a teenage kid stuck his head out. “Mindy, right?”

  “Yes,” Mindy said warily.

  He thrust a bag at her. “A guy came through about half an hour ago and paid for your order. He said you were hot, and that you should have a nice day.”

  Mindy turned to look at Brooke in shock.

  “Something you want to tell me?” Brooke asked.

  “It’s Linc. It’s got to be.”

  Brooke gave her a long look.

  “What?” Mindy asked defensively.

  “That’s some serious relationship goals right there, Min.”

  “Stop.”

  “No, you stop. You should marry that man. Oh wait, you already did.”

  “Yeah.” Mindy found a smile. “I know he’s amazing. I do. I just can’t seem to . . .”

  “Find your happy?” Brooke asked, humor gone, and in its place was genuine concern.

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “I’m having a lot of trouble with that.”

  “I get that. More than you know. And I also know it might be hard to hear, but a therapist could really help. Or maybe even meds. There’s no shame in that, Min.”

  Mindy looked at her in surprise. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”

  “I saw a therapist and took anxiety meds for two years after the helicopter crash.”

  “Oh, Brooke,” she murmured, her heart squeezing hard. “I wish—”

  “No, it’s okay. I needed to be alone. I needed to process. And I did. I mean, I’m still the same Brooke, which means I’m often restless, and the OCD thing still flares up sometimes . . .”

  Mindy bit her lower lip.

  “Or a lot,” Brooke said with a rueful smile. “But therapy helped me with the anxiety and also with finding some happy. I’m just saying, it’s an option.”

  “I know. But I think I’m okay,” Mindy said. “Really.”

  “Okay, good. Because it seems to me Linc’s trying really hard, and I don’t know much, but I do know it’ll take both of you to make it happen.”

  “I know,” Mindy said softly. “And we’re working on it.” And she’d work harder. If Brooke could come back from what she’d faced, Mindy could find her way back, too.

  A few minutes later, they were at the gorgeous Capriotti winery. She’d just found Linc and the kids when she discovered a bigger problem than all her other ones: The theme of the party was clowns.

  “Uh-oh,” Brooke said.

  “What?” Linc asked.

  “Your wife’s terrified of clowns.”

  It was true. Mindy had frozen to the spot. She’d been about to thank Linc for the McDonald’s, but she couldn’t breathe. There were clown balloons. Clown posters. Clown games . . .

  Brooke turned to Linc. “Remember in high school when they hired a clown troupe for an assembly and she threw up on the lead clown’s big red shoes?” She looked at Mindy. “You going to survive?”

  “Who, me? Of course.” Mindy forced an easy shrug, but she was thinking meds would be great right about now. She managed a smile at Linc, who smiled back and then got pulled away by a parent they knew from school. She waited a beat, then turned to Brooke and hissed, “I’m totally not going to survive.”

  “Yes, you are,” Brooke whispered back. “We’re the Lemon sisters. We survive everything and keep on ticking. There are tons of people here. Surely we can find someone to gossip about and take your mind off the silly decorations. And hey, bonus, I only see one actual clown.”

  Carefully averting her gaze from said clown, Mindy eyed the crowd. “Everyone’s skinny and beautiful.”

  “Yeah, so feel sorry for them because of all the Taco Tuesdays they’ve clearly missed.”

  Mindy choked out a half laugh, half sob. “God, I love you.”

  “Hey, look,” Brooke said. “Brit’s here.” She pointed to their nanny, standing by an ice cream bar with a beautiful young woman about her age.

  “Brit’s a Capriotti,” Mindy said, locking her gaze on their nanny and her girlfriend instead of the clown. They were holding hands and smiling, and when they both reached to lick their shared ice cream at the same time, they laughed and kissed. Mindy sighed in envy. Tonight. Tonight she’d get Linc back where he belonged, she vowed. In her damn arms.

  “Inappropriate,” a nearby mom said disapprovingly, eyes locked on Brittney and her girlfriend.

  Mindy looked over at her in surprise. “What?”

  “It’s entirely inappropriate.”

  “Really?” Mindy asked. “Which part—the genuine young love, or that they’re sharing what looks to be mint chocolate chip ice cream? Because let’s be honest, mint in ice cream is entirely inappropriate. And disgusting.”

  “Bite your tongue, Min,” Brooke said. “Mint ice cream is the bomb.”

  “My daughter’s four,” the woman said. “I’m not prepared to explain a gay couple to her.”

  “Sure.” Mindy nodded. “Because you’d rather tell her about an immortal fat guy in a red suit who lives at the North Pole and travels around the world one night a year in a sleigh driven by flying reindeer than tell her about two people in love. Makes a lot of sense.”

  The woman rolled her eyes and walked off.

  “Nicely done, Lemon,” Brooke said, but Mindy let out a breath and shook her head.

  “That was the room mother from Millie’s class. I need wine, stat.”

  “On it,” Brooke said, and walked off in search of wine.

  The clown walked by Mindy and then stopped and did a double take. And then pantomimed something that Mindy didn’t quite get because her heart was suddenly pounding in her ears. “Go on,” she said, and gave a “shoo” gesture. “Nothing to see here.”

  The clown gave her a slow smile, a creepy-ass smile, and came a little closer.

  “No, seriously. Back off.”

  The clown took another step toward her.

  “Listen,” Mindy said. “Don’t mess with me, okay? Take one more step and you’ll be sorry.”

  So of course the clown took one more step, just as Brooke reappeared with Mindy’s wine. “Hey, jackass,” Brooke said, stepping in front of Mindy, blocking her from the clown. “Leave her the fuck alone.”

  The clown flipped Brooke off and then made an even cruder gesture toward Mindy.

  “Are you kidding me?” Brooke asked, handing Mindy her wine. “You think just because you’re behind the questionable protection of a stupid clown suit that you can just blindly come on to a woman? Stop being a big fat bag of dicks and back up out of our space.”

  The clown took a step into Brooke and chest-bumped her.

  And Brooke punched him in his big red nose.

  The clown fell backward on his ass, his nose fell off, and . . .

  It was a woman, Mindy realized in shock. It was Michelle Avery, her high school mortal enemy. Michelle had been more popular than Mindy, prettier than her and smarter than her. And yet Michelle had made it her personal mission to make Mindy’s life at school a personal hell. She’d stolen Mindy’s iPod, she’d told teachers that Mindy had cheated off her, she’d tried to steal Linc on numerous occasions, and during their junior year, when Mindy and Linc had been on a break from each other, Michelle had kissed him.

  Mindy hated her.

  “You bitch!” Michelle screeched, and flew at Brooke, taking her by surprise.

  They both hit the dirt, hard, Brooke on the bottom, appearing momentarily stunned by the clown sitting on her chest. “Get your fat ass off me!”

  “Fat? How dare you!” Michelle screamed, and then they were rolling, vying for top position. Michelle pulled Brooke’s hair and swung a punch that only grazed Brooke’s jaw because Brooke managed to get an elbow in Michelle’s gut. But then Michelle pulled back her fist
for another go, and from somewhere far away, Mindy heard, “Get the fuck off my sister, you bitch!”

  It was her. Mindy was the one yelling, she realized, as she threw herself into the mix, trying to get between Michelle and Brooke to break things up. Instead, she took a punch meant for her sister, straight to her right eye. Stars burst in her head, and then it was lights-out.

  She came to what could have been a year later, but turned out to have been only a few seconds. She was on the bottom now, drowning in a sea of bad polyester clown suit and what felt like cotton shoved down her throat.

  Michelle’s clown wig had come loose, and now Mindy was going to die down here, but then suddenly they were doused in icy-cold water.

  Someone had turned the hose on them.

  The dirt became mud, and as people waded in to separate them, some slipped and fell on top of the pile of limbs.

  Mindy’s life was flashing before her eyes when she was finally lifted to her feet by a stunned-looking Linc.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She had no idea. She was bleeding from a few cuts, including one on her lip, but Brooke looked even worse, covered in mud, bleeding from a cut beneath her eye, holding her wrist funny, cradling it to her chest. Michelle was the dirtiest of all of them, dripping mud from every inch of her, but there was no blood on her that Mindy could see.

  Linc took in the sight and his mouth tightened into a grim line. “Car,” he said. “Now.”

  The kids stayed at the party with Brittney as he drove them to the hospital. No one spoke in the car, at least not until they arrived at the ER. Linc parked, and then Brooke suddenly started breathing funny. Her eyes dilated, her skin went pasty white. Every protective instinct came out in Mindy because she knew Brooke was having an anxiety attack, probably because the last time she’d been in the hospital, she’d nearly died. She reached out to hug her, but got a don’t-you-dare-touch-me death glare.

  Still worried, Mindy insisted on sharing a cubicle, so they ended up on twin cots, waiting to be treated while Linc was out front filling out paperwork.

  In the silence, Mindy could hear Brooke still breathing too fast, and she struggled to sit up.

  “What are you doing?” Brooke asked. “The nurse said to lie still and ice your eye until she can get a doctor. You never listen.”

  “Says the queen of breaking rules. And oh my God, you’re also wearing my sandals. At my funeral, make sure to sit me up so I can see which of my clothes you’ve stolen to wear.”

  Brooke stared at her. “You’ve lost your collective shit.”

  “Yes! Now you’re finally getting it.” And since it hurt too much to stay seated, she lay back down.

  “You know what really gets me?” Brooke asked a few minutes later.

  “What?”

  “That I only got three hits in. I needed to get that fourth hit in.”

  “Because you needed it to be an even number?”

  “Because I really wanted to hit her again.”

  Mindy managed a laugh as the doctor came in. Nothing was broken except maybe her pride. Brooke’s wrist was sprained, and she did need five stitches below her eye. After that was handled, the doctor left to write up a prescription for antibiotics for Brooke.

  More awkward silence filled their cubicle. From the corner of her eye, Mindy could see Brooke doing a crossword puzzle on her phone, which she did only when she was deeply upset. Mindy argued with herself and then finally spoke. “I’m ready for my apology.”

  Without taking her gaze from her puzzle, Brooke gave her a suggestion. With her middle finger.

  Mindy nodded. “Apology accepted.” She paused. “You took a punch for me.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  “So it cost you five stitches and a sprained wrist.”

  Brooke shrugged, like she’d have done more if she’d had to, and Mindy felt her throat close up tight. She sniffed, but the tide couldn’t be stopped. A tear popped out.

  Brooke looked up and stared at her. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You’re crying.”

  “Am not!”

  “Are too!” Brooke pointed at her. “Stop that. You know that’s unfair. When you cry, you win, and it’s not your turn to win, Min!”

  “Then you should’ve cried first!” Mindy sobbed. “You stuck up for me.”

  “Well, duh. You’re family.”

  Mindy cried harder.

  Brooke sighed the sigh of a martyr. She stared up at the ceiling. Swung her foot. Sighed again. “Remember when we used to sneak out of the house to go to parties? Well, now I want to sneak out of parties to go home. That was a terrible party.”

  Mindy laughed and wiped her nose with her arm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so self-absorbed and haven’t taken good enough care of you. I’m going to do better. I just can’t stop thinking about how you never told me about you and Garrett. I thought we were closer than that. I want to be closer than that.”

  “At the time, I guess I’d convinced myself there really wasn’t much to tell.”

  “And now, with hindsight being twenty-twenty?”

  Brooke waited a beat too long to say, “Same.”

  Mindy sat up. “You hesitated.”

  “Did not.”

  “You did. Come on, Brooke, lie to yourself if you have to, but not to me. If it were really nothing to you all those years ago, you’d have said so. Which means it was way more than nothing.”

  “Okay, fine.” Brooke closed her eyes. “At the time, I guess I really did think it was a lot more than nothing. I thought it was . . .”

  “What?”

  “Everything,” Brooke whispered. “I thought he was going to be my everything. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I didn’t tell you back then because I knew you’d freak out. But you’ve kept things from me, too.”

  Brooke had had her heart broken and Mindy hadn’t been there for her, and it took her a moment to find her voice. “Like what?”

  “Like how you no longer want the POP Smoothie Shop,” Brooke said.

  Mindy turned her head to look at her. “I had no idea that bothered you.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, but it bothers you, so I’d have liked to have known about it.”

  Mindy felt . . . stunned. Brooke had wanted to be close, and what had she done? She’d let her vanish from her life without even a fight.

  “And there’s something else,” Brooke said. “I was pregnant when the crash happened. I’d just found out.”

  Mindy gasped. “You were pregnant? With . . . Garrett?” At the truth in Brooke’s eyes, a wave of anguish hit her. “Oh, Brooke, I’m so sorry. I hate that you couldn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

  “It wasn’t about trust,” she said softly. “It was about being stupid enough to get pregnant in the first place, and being terrified about it. And then it was about losing the baby in the crash.”

  With a low sound of regret, Mindy began to struggle to get up.

  “What are you doing?” Brooke asked. “What part of ‘stay still’ don’t you understand?”

  “Shit, I really need to do some damn sit-ups. I’m like a beached whale over here.” She finally managed to get off her cot.

  Brooke sighed loudly, but scooted over on her own and lifted up the hospital blanket.

  It felt like a white flag, and Mindy was going to take it. She crawled into the bed with her sister and felt her heart swell. She didn’t dare speak for fear of ruining the moment. So they sat in quiet. A nice quiet, for once. And then Brooke was back to her puzzle. “Hey,” she said. “What’s a seven-letter word for someone who’s been a jerk?”

  “Asshole?” Mindy asked.

  Brooke touched her own nose and smiled.

  And Mindy nearly choked on her own regrets. “I’m so sorry you didn’t feel you could tell me.”

  “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell. But, Min, I didn’t talk to anyone about it except Garrett. And almost as soon as I told him, it was over.
And . . .” She closed her eyes. “That’s not all of it.”

  Mindy’s heart tightened. “What? Tell me. Please tell me.”

  “I didn’t just miscarry after the helicopter crash. During the surgery, things . . . happened.”

  “I know, Bee. You lost your spleen, some of your lower intestines, got an infection and almost died.” Her eyes filled again. “We were all devastated for you. I wanted to crawl into your hospital bed and take care of you. I’m your big sister—I’m supposed to nurture you so hard that you get annoyed.”

  “Mission accomplished.”

  They both gave a watery laugh, but Brooke’s faded. “I . . . can’t get pregnant anymore.”

  Mindy stared at her, heart pounding at the reality of what her sister had gone through, alone. “What?”

  “Please don’t make me repeat it. But most of all, please don’t cry anymore, you’re probably already dehydrated. You break out when you’re dehydrated. I don’t want that on my head.”

  Mindy swallowed hard, not willing to let Brooke tease this away. “You can’t have babies.”

  “No,” Brooke whispered.

  God. She couldn’t imagine. “Do you want one of mine?”

  Brooke choked out a low laugh. “Stop.”

  “No, I’m serious,” Mindy said. “Take one. But not the good one. Not Millie.”

  And at that, the infallible Brooke Lemon burst into tears.

  “No, oh, honey, no, I’m just kidding, you can totally have Millie,” Mindy whispered frantically, and pulled Brooke into her arms, feeling her own heart break for her. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

  Brooke sniffed and wiped her nose on Mindy’s sleeve. “Are we?”

  Mindy nodded. “Yes, even though if I was as OCD as you, I’d have to kill you for the snot.” She sighed and hugged Brooke tight. “But we really are okay.”

  Brooke choked out a laugh and they hugged some more, and Mindy felt her heart begin to mend itself. She hoped Brooke’s might do the same. They weren’t perfect—they never had been. But they were sisters, blood, and they belonged together.

  Suddenly, their curtain was yanked back, and Linc and Garrett stood there wearing mirroring expressions of stress and worry.