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“Guys, really, I don’t need a party,” Kira says in her measured voice.
Usually, given that she speaks so infrequently, her word is taken as gospel. In situations like this, however, where birthdays are more of a family event than an individual one, she is immediately steamrolled by Amy’s suggestion.
“How about we go to one of those stores where we can create our own lipstick? Or our own perfume?”
“Ugh, those places are all filled with chemicals,” Gillian says. “No way.”
Gillian, Amy, and Dana go in circles a little longer, Kira remaining silent. I glance at my older sister with a sympathetic look. She shrugs and shakes her head. We are a little less than two years apart and have an unspoken bond, almost like twins. She’s the quiet, I’m the loud. She’s the moon, I’m the sun. A dynamic duo.
“You guys, she said she didn’t want a party,” I say loudly.
They all stop and look at me. Then Dana says in a coddling voice, “Are you absolutely sure, Kir?”
“Yes. Promise. Twenty-eight isn’t anything to write home about.”
“It’s your birthday. Every birthday is something to write home about,” Gillian says with a sniff.
“You’re just saying that because you have a kid,” I say after a sip of Dr. Pepper.
Gillian frowns. “Exactly. Birthdays should always be special.”
We go on about this for a little bit longer before the conversation moves on to more personal matters. I sort of zone out as Gillian starts to rant about her vegan bakery and how Lola is trying to get Axel to find them a new property on Melrose.
I stay quiet. Sure, I have tons of opinions, but Gillian wouldn’t care much about what I have to say, anyway. Plus, after everything that happened at the Fourth of July party, I can’t afford to have any of them think something is going on with me, or else anxiety might pour out of me like a sieve. Especially given how my cover was nearly blown with Dana’s curiosity.
The past two weeks, I’ve avoided my sisters like the plague. Not to mention my dad. Looking him in the eyes is going to be absolutely impossible after what I’ve done.
We all experienced one of the greatest betrayals a family could experience. When Mom left, we all had to pick up the pieces together. We only knew we could trust each other. I know Dad, out of all of us, is still learning to trust again.
How horrible would it be if he learned he couldn’t trust his own daughter?
Sure, it takes two to tango. I just can’t help but think I should shoulder more of the guilt since I’m Dad’s flesh and blood. That’s the biggest kind of betrayal there is.
And yet…despite the guilt and fear of being found out, Grant Neville hasn’t left my mind for more than a minute. I’ve replayed our encounters so many times. The banter at the cooler, the flirtation in the kitchen, the amazing sex in the treehouse.
I can’t seem to shake him off, no matter how much time goes by.
I’m screwed, aren’t I?
It’s not easy to be the outspoken sister. Because my silence is somehow very loud to everyone. When I’m not offering my opinion or making a quip at someone else’s expense, people immediately think something is wrong.
Usually, they’re right.
“Earth to Harley!”
My eyes snap to Amy who is waving at me from across the room.
“You okay? You got all glassy-eyed there.”
“Are we boring you?” Gillian asks with a scowl.
I try not to glare at my older sister. “No…just thinking.”
“Just zoning out, as per usual,” Gillian mumbles.
I do have a tendency to do that. I’m usually thinking about my next story, my next move.
Not my dad’s best friend.
