Minerva picked us up after breakfast and a post-breakfast bedroom interlude. When I made love to Reine that morning, it was just the two of us in my head, and I could almost fool myself into believing we were somewhere in the mountains on a honeymoon. Unfortunately, reality intruded all too quickly, and we scrambled to get dressed when Minerva’s car horn jerked us out of our post-coital stupor.
If my sister noticed anything amiss in Reine’s slightly swollen lips or the silly grin I couldn’t seem to keep off my face, she didn’t say so, which I thought odd considering she’d proved to be a direct communicator. Instead, she sighed and turned, but not before I caught the sadness flitting across her face. Was she worried about me? Grieving the fact she didn’t have someone to sneak in a quickie
