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All I can do is squeeze her hand, suddenly feeling like our roles have reversed. Now she’s the big sister with four more years of wisdom instead of me, holding me together by touch and comforting words when we both know this is the opposite of okay.
I feel so small and insignificant, dreading the ensuing conversation.
She’ll tell me to stop being so stubborn and to call Dad for help. That I’m acting like a child, and I’ve got to stop being so hardheaded and to take help when it’s offered.
But allowing him to swoop in whenever I get into a bind, just because he’s wealthy, is wrong. It’s why I’ve drifted so far from what he and my mom had imagined for my life. Because I want to prove that I have what it takes to survive without them… despite them.
I’m perfectly happy with my life.
A rush of water spurts through the drywall above my head, drenching my hair and shoulders.
Perfectly. Happy.
* * *
“You’re going to love this place,” I say, nodding at the enormous bar on the other side of the dance floor. “Best IPAs this side of Keerah, and it’s ladies’ night, which means half-priced hot wings and all-you-can-eat oysters.”
We’re seated at a high table at the back of the infamous bar, Tipsy Tides, people watching and sipping a shot of tequila we’re not brave enough to shoot all at once.
“So, you’re working for a non-profit, have no savings, car, house, or any assets…?”
Having waited long enough, Carrie launches right into a lecture, instead of appreciating the fact that my tasteful side boob got us to the front of the line.
“Correct.”
“And how, exactly, were you planning on hiding all that from me?”
I circle my finger around the rim of the glass. “I wasn’t prepared for your impromptu visit, for starters.”
“That’s what impromptu means, Pen. You’re not supposed to be prepared.”
“Well, I was extra unprepared.” She gives me a pointed look. “Okay, fine. I was planning to blackmail you with that girls’ trip you took in high school that was actually a weekend sex fest with your ex.”
She slaps a hand over her chest, eyes flaring with betrayal. “You wouldn’t dare?”
Of course I wouldn’t, dammit. I would never do something like that to her, no matter how much satisfaction it might give me to finally put a chink in her perfect armor.
Fiddling with the tip of my silk, paisley-printed top, I say, “Look, I’ve been busy, all right? Who do you think was the one fixing Marcus’s scandal last summer? Newsflash, it was me.”
And what a mess that ended up being. Though, the little shit does have me to thank for his happily ever after with Heather.
I’m not on board with the notion that a woman—or anyone, for that matter—needs a partner to find true happiness, but after watching those two fall madly in love, I found myself craving that same level of intimacy more than ever.
The cuddles, the comfort, the feel of a strong man holding me tight when we lay down for bed. I want the white picket fence and the big family. A whole gaggle of kids running around like little psychos while my man smacks my dimply ass and lovingly traces my stretch marks.
“Okay, babying our cousin aside, what the hell have you been doing this whole time?” Carrie asks, bringing me out of my daydream.
The tequila burns a trail to my gut, easing some of the tension in my shoulders after I swallow. “As the youth says nowadays, living my best life.”
“You’re on drugs, aren’t you?” she asks, completely serious. “Jesus Christ. Am I going to have to call for an intervention?”
“Oh, my god.”
“Are you stripping?”
Exasperated, I roll my eyes. “Do you think I’d live in an apartment like that if I were a stripper?” When she cocks a brow, I add, “Actually, I think that’ll be my next venture.”
“Penelope.”
