Page 239 of A Taste of Vanilla

She rolls her eyes. “I knew that. I had to learn about my brother’s pierced dick before breakfast, which, by the way, remains a top-five trauma, and in case you don’t remember, our lives have been full of trauma.”

“Marley,” Warren says.

“No, you don’t get to Marley me.”

He goes quiet, and she turns back to me. “I’m asking how long this has been going on.”

My throat burns. “When we made the Coconut Bloom.”

“Really?” Her face pales.

I nod.

“Oh my God.”

“Marley—”

“No, don’t.” She steps back. “You let me sit there and joke about it. You let me make comments. You let me think I was being overprotective and dramatic and weird because I kept saying something was happening, and you both looked at me like, ‘No, Marley, we’re adults. It’s complicated, Marley. Stop policing eye contact, Marley.’”

She looks between us, her eyes shiny.

Angry tears.

“You made me feel stupid.”

It feels like a punch.

“No,” I whisper.

“Yes. Yes, Halston, you did.”

I take a step toward her, and she takes a step back.

I stop.

Marley wipes under one eye quickly, furious. “I kept thinking I was crazy for feeling weird because you’re my best friend and you’re my brother and I love both of you so much, and yet somehow I was the only person without all of the information.”

Her mouth trembles.

She’s right. She’s completely right.

I built an argument in my head for why we weren’t really lying. Not exactly, anyway. We weren’t making an announcement. We weren’t ready to. There are complications. Warren is temporary. I think he still is. Marley had already been upset. Everything happened at once.

But all of those were soft cushions I built around the truth.

We knew something Marley didn’t. We let her stand there while we denied it.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

Her eyes close.

The words aren’t enough. “I’m so sorry, Marley. I should have told you. I should have told you when it changed. It wasn’t like this the whole time. But I should have said when it stopped being accidental and started being…” I glance at him. “This.”

Her jaw jumps.

“I was scared,” I say. “And embarrassed. I didn’t want to hurt you, but I did. I made you feel like you were on the outside, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

Her eyes open.