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“No, we argued about whatever bullshit mom was making us battle over. We were children forced into a gladiator arena, begging to survive.”
I tip my head to the side and don’t argue because she’s not wrong.
“Anyway, obviously, I came here to ask about last night.” I avert my eyes, suddenly very interested in my drink. “Well, how was it?”
“How was what?” I lift my drink and take a sip at the worst moment.
“Fucking Riggins. Your husband. How was it?” I choke on my drink as she laughs, standing to grab a paper towel and handing it to me.
“How did you—” I ask once I catch my breath.
She rolls her eyes. “I’m your twin sister, Stella.”
“Does that mean you have a direct line to my vagina?”
She screws her face up in disgust. “God, no, you weirdo. I just can see you’ve got that freshly fucked happy face on.”
I stare at her, trying to decide how to answer. It only takes a moment to realize there’s no getting around it, so I just spill. “It was good, Evie. Like, oh my fucking god, toe-curling, better than I ever remembered, meant to be kind of good.”
“Meant to be kind of good?”
I shrug. Lying to Evie is like lying to myself: there’s no point in it. “I don’t know. It’s all very messy still.We’revery messy, but… it feels natural, being with him again; it feels right. Like a part of me has returned back to my soul. Like I’m whole again.”
“You seemed it,” she says. “At Beckett’s party. Happy. I haven’t seen you that happy since…” her words trail off but I know the answer. Since the last time I was with Riggins and the guys.
“Yeah,” I say. “By the way, where did you go? You ran off, and then I never saw you again. I only knew you were alive because I checked your location.”
“You checked my location?” she asks with a squeak.
Weird.
“Well, yeah. I saw you were home this morning.” Her shoulders ease and I file that away for later, something to try and pick apart and understand. She clearly doesn’t want to be on that subject, so I change it away from all things Riggs and Atlas Oaks.
“So, what’s going on with work?” A few months ago, Evie got hired at one of the biggest music magazines in the country, writing articles about the industry. “What did you just wrap up?”
She rolls her lips into her mouth to hide a proud smile and looks at the table, before putting her mask on again and looking at me.
That? That I recognize. I perfected it long, long ago, hiding the pride of something I felt I accomplished because our mother would see it as a weak spot, something for her to pick at and tear apart.
Got a 96 on a test?What are you an idiot? You could have gotten a 100.
Soccer team won?Fine, I guess, but did you make any goals personally?
“Evie! What is it?”
“Headlining article,” she says, no longer able to hide her excitement. “A cover deal. 10-page spread. About Rainy Daze.” My jaw drops.
“Everest! I cannot believe you didn’t tell me! Shut up! Congrats! That’s huge! Is that where you were last month?” Her smile widens, and she nods.
“I didn’t know if they were going to go with my angle because it’s something new, I thought up, but it was a blast. I also didn’t want to tell you because.. well… you know.”
I do, unfortunately. For years, Evie has tiptoed around all things music industry around me, especially if it’s someone I ever once knew in a personal way in another lifetime.
“I know, but who cares? I’m so mad at you for not telling me,” I say.
“I’m doing more,” she says, her words low and nervous. My eyes widen.
“More?” Her smile widens and her mask shatters and I know… I know she’s been dying to tell me all about this, but was too nervous it would send me spiraling.
