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I stand and pace the room. It’s not my place to get involved, but if he lays a hand on her again, I will break every one of his fingers. Maybe Gemma isn’t mine, but I won’t allow Robert—or anyone—to hurt her.
“You should stay over tonight,” Everleigh suggests. “There’s no reason to be alone, plus you’ve been drinking. Just get up a little early and run home for a shower before work.”
“That’s a good idea. Might as well fill my glass to the top then.” Gemma laughs.
I hear Everleigh’s feet pad against the floor. A cabinet opens and closes, then moments later, the blender starts. After a few minutes, it’s silent, and I imagine them on the couch with strong margaritas so they can continue their conversation.
What I appreciate about Everleigh is she asks the right questions, the ones that make you think past your own biases so you can figure shit out for yourself—even to her closest friends.
I lie down with my arms crossed behind my head and stare at the ceiling for over thirty minutes. When my stomach growls, I decide to make myself something to eat since I haven’t eaten dinner.
As soon as my door opens, their conversation stops, which I’m grateful for. Too much anger streamed through me as I listened to how Robert treated Gemma.
“You two hungry?” I ask, glancing at the clock and noticing it’s almost nine.
Everleigh laughs. “I’m always hungry if you’re cooking.”
I look at Gemma. “How about you?”
Her cup is empty, and her cheeks are a rosy red. “Sure. I mean, I already ate earlier, but…”
Everleigh elbows her. “He doesn’t care about that. I always eat twice when Tyler offers to make something.”
“Seriously?” I laugh at her confession. I had no idea, though I shouldn’t be that surprised.
“Well, yeah. It’s the only reason I agreed to let you live here rent-free. Your food is like Grandma’s, and I could eat it every single day.”
That has me chuckling. I plan to prepare extra so she has some to take to work tomorrow. “What are you in the mood for? Wait, let me guess…pasta.”
“Bingo! Pasta for every meal. I swear, there’s bound to be Italian somewhere in our bloodline,” Everleigh says, but then changes the subject, considering we don’t know much about our father.
I take out the ingredients and place them on the counter, ready to get to work. I boil the noodles while I chop the chicken and whip up the homemade sauce. It doesn’t take long before the aroma from the spices and garlic bread in the oven fills the kitchen. My mouth waters in anticipation as I fill our bowls full of chicken Alfredo.
“Second dinner is served,” I call out, then place the dishes in front of them. We sit and wait for the steam to clear before digging in.
Gemma moans, and that sweet sound has me adjusting myself as memories of our time together resurface. I meet her eyes, and she blushes before quickly looking away.
“How’s business going?” I ask my sister.
Everleigh immediately perks up and gets super excited to chat about the boutique. “The mystery sale today went amazing. Next week, I think I’m gonna try an online pre-order campaign. Drum up excitement for a few of the new summer items and give everyone a chance to buy what they want. Some of my customers were pissed today that I sold out of the skirt Gemma had on for the shoot.”
She continues chatting about her ideas, and Gemma throws in different suggestions, but I can’t seem to pay attention to either of them. My mind wanders too much as I think about Robert grabbing Gemma. I glance down at her wrist and notice a small bruise has formed where he dug his fingers into her skin. I suck in a deep breath and try to pay attention to Everleigh, adding something to the conversation so she doesn’t notice I was lost in my head again.
“It would be smart to order fall stuff now, too. You know all these women are gonna be dressing like Hans Solo with their leggings and boots as soon as the temp drops to sixty-five.”
Gemma snorts. “You’re right, and I’m totally guilty of it.”
Her laughter causes my lips to turn up.
“Oh my God. I wear the same thing, so that’s an amazing idea. Get ahead of the rush. First cold front that comes, my regulars beg for cardigans and buffalo plaid, too.”
“Now, you’re thinking like a business owner. Don’t forget the pumpkin spice candles.” I flash a wink at Gemma, who nearly chokes on her pasta from laughing so hard.
“I love fall candles!” Gemma gushes. I know she does. She talked about stocking up on them in one of her letters.
“Ready to come work with me on the weekends now?” Everleigh mocks.
Gemma tilts her head at Everleigh. “You offered Tyler a job?”
