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“And they’re not with David?” she asks, popping her gum.
“Of course they are. But it’s different with Dixon.”
“How so?” she questions, crossing her legs and sitting cross-legged on the edge of my bed.
“I just…you know I have skeletons in the closet,” I confess, biting my lip.
“Yes, and I wish you’d tell me what. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. I would never judge you,” she says, her voice betraying her hurt.
Mary and I have been inseparable since I was five years old, and we were next-door neighbors. Even when my mom remarried and we moved, Mary and I remained BFFs, and we promised never to allow anything to come between us. So far, we’ve both stuck to our word.
But my secret isn’t just “anything.” It’s life-changing, and I will do anything to spare Mary that pain.
“I know, Lamb.” I sigh, lowering my eyes. “But it’s something I just want to forget.”
“I wish you’d at least talk to someone. Maybe Dr. Dixon can help,” she jokes while I almost choke on my tongue.
“No!” I cry, shaking my head as I meet her warm eyes. “This is something I can never tell him.” I hate how vulnerable I sound.
“Whatever it is, I know it’s not your fault,” she says sympathetically. “But I just know your wicked stepsister is totally to blame.”
I swallow down my nausea and reach for my slinky tank. “Ugh, can you not ruin my day by mentioning her? I haven’t seen her for two glorious months, and I hope I can push it out to six.”
“I don’t understand how she can be a product of Sebastian. I mean, he’s so nice, and she’s…”
“Such a bitch,” I mumble, filling in the blanks. “And that’s a compliment,” I add, reaching for an elastic because my long hair is suddenly pissing me off.
Mary nods and makes a grossed-out face. “I still can’t believe she’s marrying your brother.”
The hair tie goes flying across the room, and I gulp. “Yeah, well, neither can I,” I lie because I can so believe it.
“Isn’t that like incest or something?” Mary asks, and I shake my head.
“No, they’re not related by blood. My mom married Sebastian; therefore, we’re related by marriage,” I explain, really hoping she drops this, like now.
“So kinda like if Greg married Marcia? God knows it’s all about her, so the Marcia analogy suits her perfectly.”
“Yes, kinda,” I reply, trying my best to remain calm as I hunt through my garments on the floor.
“It’s still gross. I mean, Dylan is hot, but he’s your brother,” Mary says, screwing up her nose.
This conversation is making me so uncomfortable, but I nod anyway. “I know. It really is.”
“When are they getting married?” she asks, casually reaching for her bottled water.
“I’m not sure. Their engagement party is a couple of months away. They only just got engaged, so I don’t think they’ll get married right away. But who knows, itisBeth we’re talking about. You know she’ll do anything for her five minutes of fame,” I spit, glaring at the wall, too angry to face Mary in case my expression betrays me.
“Yeah, and poor Sebastian has to foot the bill,” Mary says, and I nod. “Do you think—”
I hold up my finger to stop Mary’s questioning because I don’t want to talk about this any longer.
“What about this?” I ask, holding a knee-length, blue baby-doll dress out in front of me, subtly hinting this conversation has ended.
Mary rests her cheek in her palm as she examines me. “Hmm, it kind of screams ‘date.’ I mean, it’s pretty, but what’s wrong with what you have on now?”
Looking down at my ripped blue jeans and black tee, I scrunch up my nose and pinch the hem of my top. “This? Really? It’s a little casual, isn’t it?”
“Why would that matter? It’s not a date, right?” She raises an inquisitive brow.
