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“We do,” my sister said cheerfully as I sipped my wine. “What are you doing tonight?”
Our mother turned her phone so we could see her boyfriend, Darren Dukakis, a professional poker player who went by the name “Duke” and was not much older than me. I didn’t begrudge my mother happiness, but I did begrudge her stealing my youth so she could now live hers out.
“Hey,” Duke said with a toothy grin.
“He’s got a tournament tonight,” Mom explained.
“Hope you win,” Kennedy called.
“Thanks!”
Mom shifted her phone so only she was on the screen once again. “I just wanted to call and say I love you both so much and happy New Year!”
“Thanks,” I said, and Kennedy blew a kiss at the phone.
“Love you too!” My sister hung up and propped her hands on her hips. “You could be a little nicer to her.”
I sighed and set down my wine, reaching for my coloring book again. I paged through it for a new word: BITCH. I opened up a dark purple marker and started in on it.
“I don’t see what you have against her,” she went on, stuffing items into a small purse.
“I don’t have anything against her.” I relished the long, easy purple strokes I made.
“You don’t sound like it.”
I spared her one narrowed glance. “What am I supposed to sound like?”
“I don’t know. As if you like her, at least.” She slipped into high heels and stood right in front of me. “How do I look?”
Her dress was short, sparkly, and tight on her plus-size frame, her cleavage spilling out. “Like a disco ball.”
She kicked her heel up adorably behind her. “Perfect.” With her attention on her cell phone while she typed, she said, “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
“You don’t either.” Which was really a warning. Don’t forget to take your pills. Don’t drink anything you didn’t see made. Don’t get lost. Don’t do anything stupid.
She air-kissed me. “See you later!”
With the quiet snick of the door, I released a breath.
My sister wasa lot. A lot of energy, a lot to love, but a lot of my anxiety too. Kennedy hadn’t seen what I had with our mother. I had protected her from our mother’s deep depression and darkest days. All my sister had experienced was the fun-loving, almost manic mother who was born after digging out of the hole of her grief. Kennedy didn’t understand the resentment I held toward our mom, probably because I never let anyone see it. Never even mentioned it out loud. I merely tucked it away, like I did everything else.
So, I let Kennedy go on, thinking whatever she wanted of our mother, while I quietly attempted to swim through my lingering waves of grief, anger, and stress, otherwise known as my father, mother, and sister, respectively.
I finished my glass of wine and my coloring page, and without anything else to do, I scrolled through Instagram, happening on to a photo of Seth and Dean posted a few minutes ago. Seth had his arms crossed, I supposed in a vain effort to appear…cool? As if anyone would really fall for his smug face. Next to him, Dean was smiling wide with ridiculous New Year’s glasses on. I had to hand it to him; he pulled them off. With the button-down open at the collar, the messy, sandy hair, and that goddamn bristly jaw, he looked like the stupid glittery glasses belonged on his face. Like his photo would be in some brochure for party decorations.
What I couldn’t stand, besides everything about him, was the girl he had his arm around. She was pretty and smiling and blond and tanned and had her face against his, both of them laughing.
I wasn’t surprised.
Yet that knot was cinched in my chest again.
And I really hated that.
CHAPTERSIX
Dean
A week into the new year, after everyone had settled back into work, I was called into Dominic’s office, alongside Taylor. Both of us knew what this was about, and I diligently avoided her gaze, thinking of Reed, next door in his office, a few boxes half packed up, a sign of his impending departure.
