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“Come on. I’ll have the staff bring out some chocolate cookies that I baked earlier today.”
“Wow,” I murmur. “It’s true love. You love me, don’t you, Grandma? I always knew that I was secretly your favorite.”
She chuckles as she leads me to her sitting room in the main house. I’d been planning to walk straight through toward Sierra’s house, but I can’t resist Grandma Anne’s cookies. Grandma’s home is at the centre of the compound, and it connects directly to each Windsor’s sibling’s house through elaborate hallways. Whenever I come here, I always stop by Grandma’s instead of driving straight to Sierra’s.
Grandma sits down and pats her legs. A soft chuckle escapes my lips as I lie down on the sofa, my head on her lap. She massages my head for me, and my eyes fall closed.
“Your heart is aching,” she says, her voice soft.
I tense, unsure what to say. I’m worried that she’ll see straight through me. Grandma Anne has this uncanny ability to read people, to uncover secrets. It’s taken all of me to keep mine.
“Just tired, Grams. I think I’ve just been working too hard.”
“You’ve been running too hard,” she corrects me.
I fall silent, scared I’ll betray myself if I speak. I inhale deeply as I focus on Grandma Anne’s hands. She’s always been able to soothe my worries with such ease. She’s always provided me with the home and the love I lacked, never asking for anything in return.
Once again, I find myself wishing it was me who’d be marrying into this family. I love my sister, but I can’t help the resentment I feel. It’s not just our parents and Ares’s love that she has… soon it’ll be all of the Windsors. She’ll be Sierra’s sister-in-law, Ares’s wife. They might be used to me coming here, but I’ll neverbelonghere the way she does.
“Rave! You grandma-stealing little bitch!”
I smile at the sound of Sierra’s voice and throw my arms around Grandma Anne, hugging her waist as she chuckles and continues to massage me.
“I thought you came over to hang out with me, but really, you’re here for Grandma. How rude.”
I hear her chew on something crunchy and sit up, shocked. “Those are mine!” I shout. “They’remycookies!”
I lunge at her, but she lifts the plate out of reach. “Sierra, I swear to God. Give me the cookies!”
She chuckles as she stuffs three of them into her mouth, emptying the plate. “You stole my grandmother, so I get your cookies.”
I turn toward Grandma Anne with wide eyes, looking at her for support. “Grandma!” I shout, but she merely shakes her head and chuckles, her gaze moving past us.
I turn around to find Ares standing in the corner, his phone pointed at Sierra and me. “How much do you think I’ll get paid if I sell this footage of a supermodel fighting for cookies?”
“Oh, no, you don’t!” I say through gritted teeth as I stalk toward him.
He smirks and holds his phone above his head. I might be tall, but Ares is 6’5” and towers above me — not that that’ll stop me.
I jump up and reach for his phone, annoyed when I can’t reach it. “Give me that phone,” I snap.
“Or what?” he says, laughing.
I narrow my eyes at him and grab his shoulders before jumping up, wrapping my legs around his waist as I reach for his phone. He’s caught off guard and turns us around, pushing me against the wall roughly, his eyes on mine.
I blink slowly, suddenly realizing what I did. “I got it,” I say, acting nonchalant as I delete the video from his phone. My smile melts off my face when the next photo in his gallery pops up. It’s a photo of Hannah in bed, most of her body hidden behind the covers, and a bright smile on her face. I recognize the room she’s in instantly. This photo was taken at my parents’ house, probably on her birthday.
I push against Ares, and he lets me down carefully. “Sorry,” I tell him as I hand back his phone.
He frowns in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head and walk past him, toward Sierra’s house. She follows me quietly. For a few moments, it felt like we were back in our childhood, before Hannah and Ares started dating. It felt easy and uncomplicated, but reality is anything but that.
“What did you see on his phone?” Sierra asks, her voice soft.
“A photo of Hannah. In bed.”
She grabs my hand and entwines our fingers as we walk to her house. “I’m sorry, babe.”
