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"Well, it's true. She's a freaking hooker, Mom! Don't act like you don't know it." I practically heard my sister toss her hair. "Maybe you should fill me in on exactly what's going on."
"I'd love to, but I have to go now."
"We should do lunch, you know? Now that you're big time. Take your sister out for a meal on Newbury Street. When was the last time you did something nice for me?"
"I bought you a wedding present when you got married to Vince," I reminded her. "I thought that was pretty giving of me."
"You're really never going to let that go? Vince is a douche, and you know it."
But he'd been my douche. Vince had been my first everything—first love, first time. I was only seventeen when I'd met him. I didn't realize what a complete jackhole he was until my sister stole him out from under me right before our wedding and married him herself.
I would have appreciated the opportunity to figure out the extent of his douchiness for myself.
"I've let it go." Sheesh, I'm lying a lot for one day. "But I don't really see where you get this entitlement from. What have you done for me lately?"
"I haven't called the Globe and told them the truth about you." Her words came out too quickly, as though she'd already been contemplating doing just that. "And I haven't called that handsome husband of yours, either, to tell him all about where you really come from."
"You stay away from him."
"What're you worried about, huh? That he might wanna taste of the hotter sister, too?"
Chelsea, your complete lack of remorse shows what a total DOUCHEPANTS-O-RAMA you are.
But I didn't say that. I didn't want to start World War III. "No," I said in as controlled a fashion as I could manage. "I'm pretty sure Lucas thinks I'm the hotter sister."
"Well then, you don't need to hide me from him."
Jesus, she didn't take no for an answer. "We're really busy right now. But I'll call you when I can get together. Why is Mom so congested?" I asked, desperate to change the subject.
"Who knows," Chelsea said and yawned. "It's not like it's anything new. She'll be fine."
"You're really something special, you know that?"
"Oh yeah. I know that. I'll be in touch." She hung up before I could tell her not to bother, not ever.
This was just what I needed. Lucas was the best thing to ever happen to me, and now my dead-beat sister had caught a whiff of opportunity. She was probably going to try to leech onto me and suck out whatever she could—a lunch on Newbury street, the opportunity to flirt with my rich, handsome husband.
She also couldn’t pass up the chance to threaten outing me as an escort in order to see what she could squeeze out of me in return. Money. Clothes. Attention. The list of things my sister wanted was endless, as was her list of excuses for why she couldn't hold down a job and obtain them for herself.
I put my face into my hands as the high I'd been feeling since the wedding came crashing down around me. Just when I thought I'd put some distance between myself and my past, it seemed poised to attack me like a zombie, ready to eat me and everyone else near me alive.
I decided to hit the gym while I waited for Lucas to get home from work. At least if I kept in good shape, I had a chance of running away from my problems for just a little longer.
Chapter Seventeen
Lucas
"Mr. Ford, there's a Rupert Granger for you on line one," the receptionist said.
"Put him through." In the brief moment before he clicked over, I looked out my office window and saw that late-afternoon thunderclouds had gathered over the city.
"Lucas. How's married life treating you?"
"It's great, Rupert. Thanks for making the trip out to the wedding. It meant a lot."
"You probably know this isn't a social call."
I nodded to myself. No one called me to chat, not even my wife.
