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Francia arches a brow. “It sounds like you really know what you’re doing. And I know you are the one who organized Cora’s bachelorette party. And you arranged for her to try on wedding dresses here at the house.”
“Most of that was Ivan’s doing.” Anya turns to me. “Right, Ivan? You arranged most of that.”
I clap my sister on the back. “Don’t be modest, Anya. That was all you.”
“Great. Then you can help me, too.” Francia really is shameless. Most people would pick up on the very obvious hints Anya is dropping, but either Francia is clueless or she’s in deep, deep denial. “I’m imagining a garden party for the bachelorette. And I’d like Ivan to be there with me.”
“Not much of a bachelorette party if I’m there.”
“Then don’t call it a bachelorette party.” She reaches over and lays her hand on top of mine, her finger tracing my knuckles. It’s like trying to hold perfectly still as a tarantula crawls across your skin. “Call it a celebration of love.”
Anya snorts so hard she almost chokes.
Francia snaps her attention to her. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m sorry, but… love?” Anya laughs again and looks between us. “You two aren’t in love. You’re just… you’re not. You have to know that, Francia.”
“The only thing I know,” she spits, “is that I’m not going to sit here and be disrespected in my own house.”
Anya’s mouth falls open. “This isn’t your house!What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Out.” Francia stands up, finger pointed towards the door. “If you can’t respect me, then—”
“If that is your bar for who is allowed in your house, it’s going to be a long, lonely life.”
Francia exhales sharply. She makes me think of a bull before it charges. “Get out right now.”
“Are you trying to throw me out? You can’t throw me out. This is my brother’s house.”
Francia lifts her chin. “This isourhouse and you’re not welcome here.”
Anya stares at her for a few seconds, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Then she shakes her head. “You’re actually deranged. Full-on unhinged. Like, have you considered seeing a specialist? Books could be written about how absolutely, banana-pants crazy you are.”
Francia takes a step towards my sister, her eyes narrowed to slits like the snake she is. “Get out of my house before I—”
I’m on my feet and standing between her and Anya before she can even get the words out.
“It’s my house. I choose who stays and who goes.”
She stumbles back and glares up at me. “You’ll let her talk to your wife like that?”
“You aren’t my wife.”
“Yet,” she adds with a sneer.
Ever, I think with a scowl.
Instead, I just shake my head, too tired to even fight about this. “Anya stays as long as she likes.”
Anya cackles and then flops back down in her chair and kicks her feet up on the table. “Amazing. Suddenly, I’m overjoyed to be here. Maybe I’ll stay for dinner, too.”
Francia starts to argue, but I push past her towards the balcony.
“Where are you going?” she hisses at my back.
I don’t answer. I just walk onto the patio, letting the doors close behind me.
Silence. Blissful silence. The sun is sinking lower in the sky. It’s well past lunch and dipping into mid-afternoon now. There’s a breeze rustling the plants in the garden beds and whirling under the overhang.
