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All over the table, the booth …
Me.
I stand at the sink of my boyfriend’s—almost fiancé’s—mother’s kitchen with a soft bristle toothbrush and Woolite.
And hand scrub red stains out of my one-of-a-kind dress with tears streaming down my face.
I ruined it.
No, he ruined it.
I grunt in frustration and drop the shit in the sink for the third fucking soak. I swipe angrily at my cheeks and eyes, the betrayers, with the backs of my hands and waltz my ass back into the living room.
Wiping the shit on the sweatpants and tank Rex’s mom was gracious enough to loan me, I stuff my feet into someone’s fucking boots and storm out onto the illuminated front porch.
My clomping footsteps echo around me as I cross the wooden surface, only dampening a smidge when the soles hit the grass of the perfect lawn, darkened in the night sky.
Guided by memory alone, I walk the path, tripping over hidden roots and branches along the way. I stumble into theclearing and find the treehouse lit up, Mac leaning out of the opening used as a window with smoke plumes puffing out of his mouth.
“Baby girl.” His previously chipper attitude is gone from the words, his eyes glazed over as he leans a little far out of the treehouse. “You look about as good as I feel.”
Probably not the best to be with his brother right now.
What if he’s mad at me, too?
“Yeah, thanks.” I shake my head but climb up anyways.
Breaching the surface of the floor through the trap door, I poke my head into the cleaner wooden box built by teenagers and admire the weathering this place has withstood.
The bean bag no longer sends out smoke signals when I plop my ass in it, the material softer under my touch.
“Ma,” Mac shakes his head, blowing a puff of smoke out of the window. “Her ass replaced all the stuff while we were gone.”
“That was nice of her.” I nod, my hands smoothing over the brand-new microfiber, leaving stripes of dark and light.
Fitting.
“She’s a great person.” Mac nods to himself, inhaling deep and holding the smoke in his lungs.
I shake my head in refusal when he offers the thing to me with an outstretched hand.
“More for me.” He shrugs, the smoke eeking out past his lips. “Anyways …” Mac pauses for another hit. “My mother taught us to be good people, too. You know that?”
I shrug, not really in the mood to have the conversation I think I’m having with my boyfriend’s twin.
Ex-boyfriend?
I don’t even know what we are anymore.
The thought chills me to the bone and sends waves of nausea through my torso.
But how the hell do you come back from a denied proposal?
He can’t have been serious.
“My brother’s a good person, Aria.” Mac’s statement breaks through my heavy thoughts, a fog building between us.
“He asked me to give up my life for his.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. The ones I shouldn’t have shared with the twin that pauses with his arm halfway to ash out the window.
