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“Are you okay?”
She’s so much like me. I should have saved her sooner, too.
I just shake my head.
And my baby sister, who I’ve worried about all her life, tells me she doesn’t mind and starts stroking my hair.
“I don’t belong here.” I shouldn’t burden her with this, but I can’t shut up. “I’m a murderer. I can’t stay in a house full of kind people.”
“You’re super kind, Elise. You’re the best.”
Lydia’s still stroking my hair when there are new voices in the penthouse.
I know I should get up. I know I should get over it. I just can’t get my dad’s face out of his head. The way he said my name—Elise—plays on a loop.
The guest bedroom door opens, letting in Catherine on a delicate breeze of her perfume. She sweeps in, her eyes bright and her chin up and her auburn hair falling around her face in perfect, shiny waves.
She’s…glowing. The non-ghost part of me thinks it looks like a good-sex glow paired with a great outfit. Elegant, wide-legged pants. A sleek cream top. A scarf in shades of navy and blue at her neck. Catherine catches me watching and does a little pose.
“I wanted to start fresh, so Jacob had a designer from Paris fly in. I never have to look at my old clothes again.”
Lydia gives her a look. “Okay, like, your sister is going through a crisis.”
Catherine purses her lips. “I know. It’s the duality of life. Elise is miserable, and I think this might be what happiness feels like. Also, the funeral was fine. Mom’s sister came, too. She’s whisking her to Vermont to recover from…you know. Her marriage.”
“Wow.” Lydia huffs a laugh. “Was she planning to text me? I’m still her child.”
“I told her in no uncertain terms that you would be staying with me or Elise, not going to Vermont.”
“I pick Elise.”
Catherine blinks. “That was fast, but…whatever. Scoot over.” Lydia moves first. My body is a weight I don’t want to move. Catherine prods my shoulder. “Come on. Give me a little room.”
I scoot.
She gets under the covers with me, just like she used to when we were younger. All it takes is one blink, and tears slide down my cheeks. My emotions are back, I guess. That doesn’t seem like an improvement.
“Oh, Elise.” Catherine dabs at my tears with the corner of her scarf, and Lydia cuddles closer on my other side. “Don’t cry. Or at least…don’t cry forever.”
I swallow the urge to sob. “I missed you. It’s happy tears.”
“You’re so full of shit,” says Catherine.
Lydia snorts.
“Ididmiss you,” I insist, my voice wavering. “I thought we might never—you know. I thought we might not be friends.”
“Shh.” More dabbing.
“You’re going to ruin your scarf.”
“Jacob will buy me a new one.”
I take a deep breath. Catherine soundssohappy. I can feel genuine joy about that, at least. “Is he being good to you?”
“Yes.” A sly smile makes a pretty curve out of her lips. “Like…so many times a night.”
Lydia gags. “Gross.”
