“You’ll visit, right?”
“At least once a month,” he responds, his voice high-pitched. “You’ll have a couch I can stay on, right?”
“I will,” I say.
He reaches for me, hugging me tight. “I never thought we’d end up best friends.”
Best friend? I have a best friend.
Yeah, seems fitting.
“Listen, bestie,” I say as we pull apart. “I would like to work up until we leave. Do you think Loretta will be good with that?”
“As long as Isla is out of the picture, she’ll be thrilled.”
“Speaking of Isla,” I groan. “Have you seen her?”
“She takes her lunch breaks at the Three Hole Donut,” Pierre says with a flourish.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” I say.
“I can’t wait to have you answering the phones again,” he says, exasperated.
I leave and walk across the street. The Three Hole Donut has a very… interesting logo. Three donut holes placed in weird… places. I ignore the suggestive orange sign and head inside.
Isla’s in the corner, chowing down on what appears to be an apple fritter.
“Hey,” I greet her as I slide into the booth.
She turns, pretending to ignore me.
“We’re too old for this,” I say to her as I cross my arms over my chest.
“You’ve stolen my baby’s room,” she accuses. “You’re dead to me.”
“You stole my room first,” I snap. “Why do you hate me so much?”
“I don’t hate you,” Isla gasps, offended.
“Then why would you take my bedroom?” I ask her. “Why remove all my things? Why kick me to the curb? It’s not my fault you got pregnant. It’s not even my fault you had an affair with your professor.”
She swallows hard, a chunk of apple stuck to her cheek. “He said I was too much.”
Don’t they all?
“So?”
“He said I needed to grow up,” she continues. “And then he called me a… a…”
“What did he call you?” I ask her.
“A bitch,” she quietly mutters.
Listen, I know who my sister is. She’s made my life a living hell years. But no one—and I mean no one—is allowed to call her names.
Except for me.
And people who do call my sister names? They get to deal with revenge.
