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“I know.” I bow my head, dropping my hands from her face.
Moments later I feel her fingers press under my chin, tilting my face up to look at her, the way I usually do to her.
“I’m upset . . . devastated, really,” she says. “But there’s nothing I can do about it, and I don’t want to sit here and cry all weekend, and I certainly don’t want you backtracking and beating yourself up over it.” She’s trying her hardest to talk herself up, pretending that it doesn’t bother her the way that I know it does.
I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. “I’ll make it up to you, somehow.” When she doesn’t answer, I press a little. “Okay?”
She wipes at her eyes, her makeup smearing under her fingertips. Her silence is making me uneasy. I’d rather be screamed at than have her cry like this.
“Tess, please talk to me. Do you want me to take you back to Seattle?” Even if she says yes, I sure as hell won’t do it, but the offer is tossed between us before I can think it through.
“No.” She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
With a sigh, she stands, sidestepping my body as she exits the bedroom. I get to my feet and follow her. She closes the bathroom door, and I go back into the bedroom to grab her small bag. I know her—she’ll want to fix that black-smudged mess underneath her eyes.
I tap on the bathroom door, and she opens it slightly, just enough for me to shove the small bag through. “Thanks,” she says, her voice small, defeated.
I’ve already ruined her weekend, and it’s barely started.
“My mom and your dad want you to bring Tessa by the house tomorrow,” Landon calls from the end of the hall.
“And . . .”
“I’m just saying. My mom misses Tessa.”
“So . . . your mum can see her some other time.” Then I realize this might get Tessa’s mind off that damned letter. “You know what? Fine,” I say before he can get his response out. “I’ll take her by tomorrow.”
My stepbrother tilts his head. “Is she crying?”
“She’s . . . it’s not really any of your business, is it?” I snap.
“You’ve been back here for less than twenty minutes, and she’s already locked herself in the bathroom,” he says, crossing his arms.
“This isn’t the time to start shit with me, Landon,” I growl. “I’m already at the point of explosion; the last thing I need is you butting your damn nose in where it doesn’t belong.”
But he just rolls his eyes in a very Tessa-like way. “Oh, so I’m only allowed to butt in when it involves doing a favor for you?”
What the fuck is his problem, and why do I keep referring to him as my stepbrother? “Fuck off.”
“She’s probably already overwhelmed, so the two of us need to stop this before she lets herself out of that bathroom.” He’s trying to reason with me.
“Fine, then stop talking shit to me,” I say.
Before he can respond, the bathroom door clicks open, and Tessa, looking put together but very exhausted, shuffles into the hallway, worry on her face. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Landon is going to order pizza, and we’re all going to spend the remainder of the night as one big happy family.” I glance at him. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” he agrees—for Tessa’s sake, I know. I miss the days when Landon wouldn’t smart off to me. They were few and far between, but he’s grown ballsier as the months have dragged on. Or maybe I’ve grown weaker . . . I haven’t a damn clue, but I don’t like the shift.
Tessa lets out a little sigh. I need her to smile, I need to know she can get over this. So I say, “I’m going to take you by my father’s house tomorrow; maybe Karen can share some recipes or some shit with you?”
Her eyes lighten, and she grins, finally. “Recipes or ‘some shit’?” She chews on the corner of her bottom lip to keep from grinning further. The pressure in my chest dissolves.
“Yeah, or some shit.” I smile back at her and lead her to the living room, where we are set to enjoy a torturous night of entertaining Richard and Landon.
RICHARD IS LYING across the span of the couch. Landon is in the chair. And Tessa and I are sitting on the floor.
“Can you pass me another supreme?” Richard asks for the third time since we started this hideous movie. I look at Tessa and Landon, who, of course, are completely fascinated by the email love affair that’s going on between Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. If this were a modern movie, they would have fucked after the first email, not waited until the last scene to even kiss. Hell, they would have been on one of those hookup apps and maybe only known each other by screen names. How depressing is that?
“Here,” I groan, sliding the pizza box to Richard. He’s already taking up the entire couch, and now he’s interrupting me every ten minutes for more fucking pizza.
“This last part used to make your mom cry every time she saw it.” Richard’s hand reaches out and squeezes Tessa’s shoulder. I try my best not to scoot between them or bat his hand away. If she had any idea what her father has been doing the last week, if she had watched the drugs leave his system in a mess of vomit and convulsing withdrawals, she’d push his hand away herself and then sanitize her shoulder.
“Really?” Tess looks up at her father with glossy eyes.
“Yes. I still remember you two watching it every time it was on. More around the holidays, of course.”
