My husband and I flew across the country to visit my sister. She was so excited to have us, but two days later, she looked me in the eye and told me to get a hotel. I didn’t understand why until I found out what my husband had been doing in her house…
in her bathroom.
The excitement in my sister Sasha’s voice crackled through the phone when I told her Kurt and I were finally making the trip to Ashville. “Tina, I can’t believe you’re actually coming! I’ve been cleaning for days.
I even turned my office into a proper guest room.”
My sister lived alone in her cozy apartment two states away. She’d sworn off dating after her last disaster and rarely had overnight guests. So when we finally stepped off that plane, her enthusiasm felt like warm sunshine after a long winter.
“This place is perfect,” Kurt said, dropping our bags in the makeshift guest room.
The pull-out couch looked inviting, and Sasha had even put fresh flowers on the desk.
“I’m just so happy you’re here!” she beamed, pulling me into another hug. “We’re going to have the best time. I made a whole list of places to show you.”
That first evening unfolded like a perfect movie scene.
We ordered pizza, opened wine, and stayed up until nearly two in the morning sharing stories and laughing until our sides hurt.
Kurt charmed Sasha with his usual jokes, and I felt that warm glow of contentment watching my favorite people get along.
“I haven’t laughed this hard in months,” Sasha said, wiping tears from her eyes after Kurt’s impression of our neighbor’s cat.
But morning brought a chill I couldn’t quite place.
I padded into the kitchen to find Sasha making coffee, her movements sharp and focused. Kurt wandered in behind me, stretching and yawning.
“Morning, ladies! Something smells amazing.”
Sasha’s smile flickered like a candle in the wind.
“Good morning.”
“Did you sleep okay, Sash?” I asked, studying her face.
“Fine.” She poured coffee into a mug, completely bypassing Kurt’s expectant look.
“What about me?” Kurt asked with a laugh. “Don’t I get the sister-in-law treatment?”
Sasha’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Coffee’s in the pot.” She grabbed her mug and disappeared into her bedroom.
Kurt shrugged.
“Guess she’s not a morning person.”
But I knew my sister. Sasha was the type who brought neighbors cookies and remembered everyone’s birthdays. This wasn’t about mornings.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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