Reparation by Stylo Fantome Page B

very happy about it – he'd had plans to finish the bottle of whiskey then possibly fuck her with it. She told him it was quite a waste of such an extravagant gift, was that the best he could think of? She was literally thrown out of the library after that comment, and told not to come back unless she was on her knees.
    As she watched her sister waddle across the driveway, she couldn't help but wonder what Ellie was thinking as she stared up at the grand house. In another life, Ellie had thought everything would be hers. The house that Tate felt was more like home than the one she had grown up in, was meant to be Ellie's. The man Tate slept with, had been picked out for Ellie. The apartment in Spain, the penthouse in New York, everything, all meant for Ellie.
    It must be hard. I should be nice to her.
    “Did you find the house okay?” Tate asked. Ellie leaned down to air-kiss her cheeks.
    “Yes. It's very beautiful,” she commented, and the wistful look was plain-as-day on her face. Tate shut the door and led her into the kitchen.
    “There's a formal dining room, but I figured we could just snack in here,” Tate explained, gesturing to some stools at the end of the large island which sat in the middle of his kitchen.
    “I can't believe I'm here. I always wondered what this place was like,” Ellie breathed, her eyes roaming over everything.
    “You knew about this house?”
    “Yeah, his father talked about it, a lot. His dad was originally from this area,” Ellie explained. Of course, Tate already knew that – but she didn't say anything.
    “Oh. Well, he's done a lot of remodeling. The conservatory on the back is new, and he had all new hardwood floors put in, wiring, new modern bathrooms, the works,” Tate explained, waving her hand around. Ellie frowned.
    “Pity. I would never have let him do that, I would've kept it as close to the original building as possible,” she commented. Tate frowned. She didn't care for Ellie's tone. It was one she recognized well; Ellie's “ I would've been soooooo much better than you, at everything you've ever done ” voice. Like Tate wasn't keeping Jameson in line enough, or something.
    “I love it. You should see the master bedroom, he completely gutted it, doubled its size. The bed is huge, ” Tate couldn't resist adding. Ellie frowned.
    “I'll take your word for it.”
    They sat in silence for a while, nibbling on snacks Tate had sat out. She and Ellie had never really reached a place where they were comfortable just chatting. They were a lot better than they were a year ago, but still not besties. Sometimes they could laugh and have fun together. Other times ..., other times were more like old times, and Tate felt like she was in a competition. This felt like one of those times.
    “So when is the baby due?” Tate asked, glancing at Ellie's huge stomach.
    “About six weeks. God, I'm over this. I'm just ready to meet him,” she laughed, patting her baby bump. Tate smiled.
    “Still gonna name him Mathias?” she asked. Ellie scrunched up her face.
    “I've been having second thoughts. Daddy still won't speak to me,” she replied.
    “Join the club. I think we're better off,” Tate assured her. “What about Robert, is he coming down for the birth?”
    Ellie's abusive ex-husband, Robert Carmichael, lived in upstate New York. Or rather, he hid. Jameson had once threatened to rip his jaw off, after he had slapped Tatum. When Ellie had first left him, Robert tried to get back together with her, but after he found out she had run away to Tate's apartment, he had left her alone. Granted her anything she wanted in the divorce.
    Sometimes, Jameson being the devil was a very good thing.
    “I hope not. I'll call him after it happens. He's not getting any custodial rights, so I don't know why he would,” Ellie snarled. Tate nodded.
    “Good plan. So does Ang, like, go to lamaze classes with you?” Tate couldn't help but snicker. Ellie shook her head.
    “Oh, no. We're not