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I keep my voice level. “What wasn’t?”
“I don’t— he didn’t tell me the details.” She’s backpedaling now, but she sucks at it. “There was a guy. A man came to him about it. With an offer, or a— I don’t know, an opportunity. Connor said it was going to fix everything.” She swallows.
“What man?”
“I don’t know!”
Kane remains motionless against the wall. But I feel his interest sharpen.
Vivian shakes her head. “Connor said there was going to be enough money for both of us. That’s all.”
“Both of you,” I say.
“That’s not— that’s not the point right now.”
“No,” I agree. “I guess it isn’t.”
She pushes her hair back. “So will you do it? The post?”
“No.”
“No?” She looks at me again as hatred twists her face apart. “You’re seriously going to stand there with some stranger and act like I’m the worst person in the world? I’m your sister, for God’s sake!”
“You were,” I agree. “And Kane isn’t a stranger.”
His gaze slides to me. I ignore the dangerous little current that runs under my skin.
Vivian laughs like the villainess she’s always pretended not to be. “Oh my God. I get it. This is revenge. You found some handsome guy in a suit and you’re parading him around because you think it makes you look desirable.”
Let her jab. Let her hunt. Let her fish.
Do not take the bait.
“Think what you want and accuse me of anything that makes your little heart happy. But I’m not going to help you, Vivian,” I say in a cool voice. “In fact, there’s no version of the rest of our lives where I help you again. Not with an Instagram post, not with a cake, not with a ride to the airport. Leave the key on the credenza downstairs and get out of my house.”
Her jaw drops. Her face loses all its color. “You cannot be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.”
“After everything I’ve done for you?”
I almost admire it. The sheer athleticism required to vault over reality and stick the landing on that sentence should qualify her for the Olympics.
“You know what’s wrong with you?” she sneers. “You’ve always been like this. Sulking around, taking pictures of everybody else, eating your feelings, and then acting like it’s a mystery why nobody looks at you.” She jerks her chin at me. “There’s just more of you every year, Dee. That’s not my fault. Or Connor’s.”
We’re into last resort territory, it seems. Do as much damage as she can on her way out the door.
I’ve read that line. On the iPad, it was pixels. Nothing too harmful.
But hearing it out loud hurts a little more.
Kane uncrosses his arms. I lift one hand without looking at him.
He stops.
“You didn’t even want him,” she spits to finish her temper tantrum. “You just don’t like it when I win.”
For years, that would have worked. I would have pretended Connor didn’t matter. I would have laughed and agreed that our marriage was stale anyway. I might have handed her the victory pre-polished just so it didn’t hurt so bad when she snatched it away from me anyway.
