Page 24

“I love the Canaries,” Jude said, leaning back in his chair and threading his hands behind his head.

I sighed, resigning myself to Dad not getting how hard this was on us. Or maybe just me. “Don’t you have to get ready?” I asked my brother.

Jude looked down at his shirt—a coral-colored t-shirt with sweat still ringed under his armpits. “I’m dressed!”

Jude would look good—and continue to have women falling over him—if he wore a paper bag. But he knew he couldn’t wear that to dinner—not when it was a business meeting, and our high-end restaurant had a dress code. He saw me scowl through the screen. I know, because he laughed.

Just then, my apartment door banged open and Eli appeared, flanked by his best friend since childhood, Seamus Reilly.

“Finally!” I said, even though it had only been a few minutes since we started the call. I shifted sideways to make room for him.

“Hey Seamus,” I said.

“Hey Cass,” he replied, standing awkwardly at the door. I couldn’t help notice the way his eyes darted over Chelsea, as if trying not to linger. “Chelsea,” he said, before glancing away.

Chelsea was already dressed for dinner—she took events seriously, given it was her job. I realized she looked gorgeous sitting there—her purple blouse offset her green eyes perfectly. Even if those eyes had dark shadows under them, only partially concealed with make-up.

Worry danced over me at my little sister’s behavior once more. She’d been like this ever since Mom died. She’d actually been there when Mom died—Chelsea had discovered Mom on the floor of her office.

Heart attack,Chelsea had said to me over the phone from the ambulance, her voice sounding high and lost and entirely not hers.That’s what they think, because she’s already gone.

That’s how I found out.

“Don’t touch us,” Chelsea said now as Eli flopped down on the couch next to us. Both he and Seamus were in sweaty, dust-coated t-shirts.

I forced myself to push my worries aside for now. Not much I could do about it here, and she seemed to be in good enough spirits most days, anyway.

“I’m just here for water,” Seamus said. “I forgot my water bottle—Eli said he’d give me some at his. Er, yours, I guess, Cass.”

“What’s yours is mine,” Eli said, to me or him I didn’t know.

“Of course!” I ignored my brother and gestured to the kitchen, which was open to the living room where we all sat. “Help yourself.”

It was strange being polite with Seamus. Given how inseparable he and my twin brother were when we were kids, he’d been like just another of my brothers growing up—just as annoying and smelly, anyway. But that was years ago, and we were adults now. While Eli had kept in touch with him, before this year, I hadn’t seen him in 15.

“Wow, living the hard life, huh, Dad?” Eli said under his breath. Dad and Eli didn’t always get along, though I thought it was because they were practically the same person. That is, if you didn’t count Dad losing it and taking off on a plane. They even had the same smile.

While Eli talked to Dad, Seamus set his phone down on my kitchen counter to pour himself a glass of water. While he chugged it down, I glanced at my sister, who was looking intently at the screen with Dad, though I saw her eyes dart toward him.

I glanced at my watch once more. Our dinner was in under an hour now. Absurdly, stupid Blake Harrington’s face flashed in my mind—the one on those back steps, where he’d looked at me so intently while slipping on his suit jacket. I thought about the photo on their website once more. I’d pulled it up again last week and noticed the smallest detail: they weren’t actually touching. It was a minuscule thing—only an inch between them, but I found myself reading into it, as if that tiny fraction of non-proximity would prove he was telling the truth.

Seamus put his glass in the dishwasher and gave us an awkward goodbye before slipping back out the door. Chelsea’s eyes were trained hard on the screen, even though I knew she couldn’t care less about Eli and Jude’s conversation about various beaches on the Canary Islands.

“Alright Dad,” I said, turning my attention back to the screen. “Eli’s here, and we have to go in ten.”

Dad, who’d been arguing with Eli about something, cleared his throat and leaned in, looking left and right as if someone might be listening.

“For God’s sake, Dad,” Eli said, rolling his eyes.

“Cassandra,” Dad said. “Chelsea told me you’ve hired someone to fix up the hotel.”

I threw a look at Chelsea. It was way easier when Dad didn’t know what was going on. He had a way of getting involved from afar these days that wasn’t helpful.

“What? It’s not a secret,” she exclaimed.

“You said you didn’t want to get involved in the business,” I said to Dad.

“Are they going to renovate the east wing?” he asked. He sipped his drink, making a comically loud slurping noise.