Leonard

I shouldn't be watching. I knew this as soon as I heard them talking outside. I knew where this would go, and yet I remained here behind the curtains. I watched him approach her. I watched the way they talked, the way she looked at him.


He cupped her throat with his hand and I knew it was over—this was happening.

And yet still, here I stand.

I should've walked away, but even as she takes off her bikini top and he drags down the bottoms, I'm stuck in place. At least I move behind the curtain. It obstructs their view of me, but it also obstructs my view of them. Everything is happening beyond the flimsy gray fabric, the details muddied and unclear.


The window is open, though. I can hear everything.

It's only when she starts begging, egged on by Carter, that I move away from the curtains for a better view. Her leg is thrown over his shoulder and his hips pump at a fast but controlled pace. Those beautiful, perfect tits of hers bounce slightly, but she's playing with them—likely at Carter's instruction. Fuck, if I were down there, I'd be licking and biting those little nipples for her.


My dick is so damn hard, I could come in my jeans. I free it, squeezing the base to hold myself off because this is so fucking intense.

And after she comes? She looks right up at me with those summer-blue eyes.

'Evie!" Carter roars.

He can call her Evie, but she told me not to. Little brat.

He slams into her one final time, holding her hips in place with one hand, his other hand resting at her throat.

Fuck. My hand won't stop moving over my cock, the head angry and aching, the entire shaft swollen with need. I bring my other hand around just in time to catch the white spurts of come.

I back away from the window. Shouldn't have been here, shouldn't have done it.

But even in my post-nut clarity, these regrets are fake. If I went back in time twenty minutes, I'd do it all again. The only thing that would change is I might go down to the pool and join in.

Keeping my distance from little Evangeline obviously isn't fucking working.

* * *

Evangeline

Carter and I got dressed after fucking yesterday, and he led me into the house where he made us some dinner—enough for Leonard, too.

But Leonard never came down to eat.

Carter kissed me goodnight after dinner, and that was that. Maybe it was a one-time fuck, just to get it out of our system, and I was misreading everything about the intense way he watched me. Didn't Leonard imply that Carter isn't the type to settle down with anyone? He said he didn't want me to get my heart broken.

I don't want that, either.

So I remain in my room long past I hear them both leave in the morning. I take a long, lazy shower, stretching my sore muscles. Yesterday's poolside shenanigans were a nice workout. Everything was just amazing. I never thought I'd be the kind of person who would get to have incredible sex like that. I don't know why, I just assumed everything would be mundane and boring because it always had been. I thought that amazing sex was reserved for romance novels and super-fake porn.

But no…I've now had two incredible experiences with two different men.

I was never the problem. Thomas and my previous partners were the problem.

When I get out of the shower, I find a text from my mom.

Come over for family brunch, darling.

Shit. She only calls me 'darling" when she wants something. And I haven't been invited to family brunch since Thomas and I got engaged. Thinking back, I bet it was because Chanel and Thomas were already hooking up.

Even though I should ignore the text and pretend I didn't see it in time, I text back. Will Thomas be there?

She calls me instead of texting. This is why I shouldn't have responded.

'Hey, Mom."

'Darling. Come to brunch. Thomas won't be here this time, but he'll be at other family gatherings because he's family, and this is a first step to repairing this squabble."

Squabble? She thinks my sister sleeping with my fiancé is a squabble?

'Be here in an hour," she says. 'I know you don't have anything going on."

'I don't?—"

She hangs up.

'I don't have a car," I whisper. And I really need to save money so I can get out of my dad's house. I already used the allowance I'm giving myself to meet up with Saige and Maya.

Sighing, I go to the garage. Dad's car is in here. He told me I could use it while he's gone, but it's a stick shift and I don't know how to drive it. On the far wall, I find two bikes. One was supposed to be mine as a teenager—a gift from my dad that I never used because I was a dick. I dust it off, check that the tires are functional, and roll it back and forth over the garage floor.

My helmet, still new in the box, is in here as well. I can't believe Dad didn't toss these things, but I'm grateful they're here.

An hour later, I'm rolling up to Mom and Harold's house. I rest the bike and my helmet against the inner railing of the porch. I knock on the door because, well, I haven't felt comfortable just walking in since I lived here. I don't think I even have a key anymore—it hasn't been on my keychain in years.

Maybe Thomas took it.

No, that's not the right attitude. No more snark, no more bitterness. I'm going in and this will be fine-just-fine.

Harold opens the door, and I'm faced with my stepdad. He has finally lost his fight with his thinning, dark brown hair and buzzed it all off, but he's kept his severely bushy beard. I'd never tell him this, but if he swapped out the pastel polos Mom buys for him with a leather jacket, he'd fit right in with a motorcycle club.

'Evangeline, hi, come on in," he says, stepping aside to make room.

'Hi, Harold." I give him an awkward side hug. He's sort of an outsider to the Mom-and-Chanel club, like me. Unlike me, he seems to have always accepted that role and it doesn't seem to faze him.

'Chanel and Francesca are setting the table," he says, 'if you want to join them."

Not really, but I will. 'Thanks."

I accept a superficial hug from Mom and keep my distance from Chanel, saying hello from across the room so that neither of us feels pressured to touch each other. Two months ago at a family gathering, she would've been racing toward me and throwing her arms around my shoulders, asking me for the latest news on Thomas's and my wedding planning.

Was her friendship caused by guilt, or was she looking for intel on how to better prevent me from finding out that she and Thomas were together? I'll never know.

Once we sit down at the table, talk immediately turns to Chanel and Thomas's wedding.

I should've guessed this would be the main topic of conversation. I stare at my plate, trying not to frown at the eggs, fruit, sausage, and cranberry muffin, none of which I feel like eating at the moment.

'We're thinking an evening wedding, dancing under the stars," Chanel says in a dreamy voice.

The scrambled eggs on my plate look too wet, undercooked. Harold's shoveling his own eggs into his mouth like he's in an eating contest.

I feel sick.

'Maybe get a jazz band to play, instead of a DJ." Mom's dreamy tone matches Chanel's.

Who's marrying Thomas? Maybe he'll hook up with my mom next.

'What do you think, Evangeline?" Mom asks.

'Uh." I scrape my eggs from one side of my plate to the other, stalling for time. 'I don't know, whatever Chanel and Thomas want, I guess."

'You surely have some opinion," Mom says.

'My opinion is that my sister slept with my fiancé behind my back, and you both want to bury all that under the rug for the sake of appearances," I say.

'E-excuse me," Chanel says, pushing her chair back and standing up. A single tear trails down her cheek. 'I'll be right back."

Mom reaches over and pins my wrist to the table. 'You need to get over this," she says in a low voice. 'Act your age. Be the bigger person."

'I can't," I say. Nor do I want to. If being the bigger person is code for 'be a doormat," then I want no part of it.

I look pointedly at where she's holding my arm against the table, and she immediately lets me go.

'Please try, Evangeline. Chanel feels very badly about the whole misunderstanding." Her expression softens. 'She'd love you to be her maid of honor, sweetheart."

I almost choke on my water. 'Me," I say. 'She wants me to not only be in her wedding, but be her maid of honor?"

'Yes, why wouldn't she? You two are sisters."

I don't even know how to respond. There are a million reasons she wouldn't want me up there. And only two that I can think of for why she would want me up there.

'She doesn't want people to talk," I say. 'Is that it? Or no—Chanel doesn't give a fuck."

'Language," Mom says.

Harold has been, and will remain, completely silent through this entire exchange. I am fairly sure he wishes he could disappear. His cheeks bulge with a large bite of muffin.

I feel the same.

'You want me there so people won't talk," I guess, testing out the theory as I speak. 'And Chanel's going along with it because…"

Mom shakes her head, fiddles with her napkin.

It doesn't take long before the realization hits me. 'Because she doesn't have anyone else."

Looking alarmed for a moment, Mom dabs at her lips with the napkin to hide her mouth. 'She has plenty of people. She wants her sister at her side, that's all."

Chanel has probably burned through every last person who might have considered her a friend.

Just then, Chanel bounces back into the dining room. 'What did I miss?"

'Evangeline was just saying how happy she is to be asked to be your maid of honor."

'So you're going to do it?" Chanel asks, her eyes brightening.

I don't know what to do.

'Please, Evangeline, say you'll do it! We're sisters, and it's going to be so much fun planning together."

Mom smiles at me. 'Of course you're going to say yes, right, darling? All this family time will be so much fun!"

Their smiles are so big, and Chanel's practically bouncing in place. I'm the center of their world right now.

Harold grabs a second muffin and jams it almost whole into his mouth.

'Of course," I say faintly.

'Excellent. And you can move back here with us," Mom says.

Chanel claps her hands. 'I even cleared out the guest room for you, Evangeline. I was hoping you'd say yes."

Cue the internal record scratch.

'Wait, you want me to move back?" I ask.

'Well, you don't have a job right now," Mom says, 'so we thought you could help out more with the wedding planning. Chanel's work is so stressful, and with you home, it would be easier for us all to communicate. We need you, Evangeline. This is just going to be perfect. You don't want to be freeloading off of Mark forever, and he's not even in the country. Here, you can be with your family. You matter to us and this would be such a big help."

They want me to move back here, to this house. Static fills my ears. It's impossible to think.

'Right?" Mom prompts. She nods in encouragement, and so does Chanel.

Like an automaton, I nod, too. 'Right, sure."

I'm happier at Dad's, but I guess I'm moving back here. It's stupid, I know it's stupid. Inside, my brain is screaming no, don't do it! But my mouth won't let me speak the words.

Because what else can I say? For once, they need me. I matter to them. I matter.

'So, go get your stuff," Mom says. 'We have work to do."

My plate is still full of food that I have no appetite for. At Mom's urging, I find my way out of the house.

I should be happy about this, right? Mom wants me to come home, Chanel is acting excited and is giving me my room back.

Then why do I feel like the world is ending?