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“No.” I shake my head. “I know you don’t approve of my feelings for Lexi. You never have.”
“They’re not feelings. They’re—”
“I’m not having this conversation.” Not again. “I’m not here for Lexi or Deanna. I’m here for you.”
Her expression gets stern. “You promised.” There are a million implications.You promised not to put your life on hold. You promised not to linger in this pain. You promised to stay away from here until you grew into a man who was over his teenage crush.
She’s right.
I’m not ready to be here. But now that I am? I’m not leaving for anything, either.
Chapter Thirteen
Deanna
The warm water of the shower washes away the remnants of the day. I let memories of negotiations and sisters who suddenly covet the boy next door drift to the back of my mind.
Kinda.
I try, okay? I’m not great at the wholenot obsessingthing. Moredoing everything I can to reach my goals. But sleep is an important part of goals. And I won’t sleep well if my mind is racing.
My skincare routine and silk pajamas help me slip into rest mode. Then I step into the living room and see Lexi sitting at the kitchen table, and I lose my tiny hint of calm.
“Deanna.” She taps her heel against the hardwood floor. She’s still in her party outfit (a new pink dress and one of Jake’s blazers, which really doesn’t sayI want to break up with you). Even though it doesn’t fit our fluorescent kitchen, she looks completely where she belongs. She always does.
“Alexandria.” I copy her tone. “Is there an urgent matter to discuss?”
“How much did you drink?”
I hold up three fingers.
“Are you drunk?”
“Am I not allowed?”
“No.” She sits back with a smile. “I’m surprised. Impressed, actually. I didn’t think you’d let loose during pitch season.”
We’re always in pitch season, but then I never let loose, so she has a point.
“Do you want the play-by-play on Willa?” she asks.
“Right. Of course.” Quickly, my inebriation and attempts at relaxation disappear. There’s work to do. What else matters?
Lexi gives a quick explanation. She talked up our latest app tweaks, explained Jake’s absence as a client emergency, and promised to show up at the investor dinner in four weeks as the picture of commitment.
“What about Jake?” I ask.
“What about him?” she asks. “He knows where we stand. And we’re set to meet to talk next week. No problem.”
“Wait. You’re going to see him during your break?” I ask. “I thought you were taking time apart.”
“Maybe we should finish this conversation in the morning,” she says. “When you’re sober.” She lets out a hearty laugh. “I always wanted to say that to you.”
“How does it feel?”
“Fantastic. No wonder you revel in it.” She stands and cops a triumphant pose. “I, Alexandria Huntington, am the most sober sister in the room. For the first time in my entire life.”
“Great work.”
