Page 135 of Theirs for the Holidays

By the time dinner is served, I feel like there’s a chance I might make it through this in one piece without anything terrible happening.

So of course, after I come back from the bathroom after dinner, Isabelle is waiting for me.

“Hey,” she says, smiling her simpering smile. “Can we talk?”

My head is full of the memories of what happened the last time she wanted to have a private chat, but I can’t very well say no and walk away from her at her rehearsal dinner. Not without making a scene. I’m trying to keep my dignity here, and she’s making it harder than it needs to be.

“Don’t you have people waiting for you?” I ask, trying to slip by her.

She grabs my arm, stopping me. “Yeah, but they can wait. I really think you need to hear what I have to say.”

I grit my teeth, trying to keep the scream building in my chest from breaking out. All at once I don’t want to be here anymore. I don’t want to be catering to Isabelle’s whims and having her jerkme around. I just want to go home where it’s quiet, and I can lick my wounds in peace.

But there are eyes on us, and the guys are off somewhere, talking to their aunt or something, and it’s just me and Isabelle. So I take a deep breath and shake her off me. “What do you need, Isabelle?”

“Oh, it’s not about me,” she says, smiling, but there’s something wrong with the smile. Like there’s a sadness in it, even though it doesn’t reach her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“I know the truth about you and Andrew’s brothers,” she says.

Everything grinds to a halt. My heart skips a beat, and then feels like it’s trying to beat itself out of my chest. I swallow hard, trying to keep my reactions in check. We’ve made it this far, and I have no idea what Isabelle could know that would make her think she’s right about this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her. “What’s the truth?”

“That you’re not actually dating. That this has all been a lie.”

My stomach clenches. “Where did you get that from?” I ask her, laughing like it’s absurd. “Are you just making stuff up now? I thought you had more important things to worry about than who I’m dating anyway. There’s a whole room full of people here to celebrate you.”

“Violet,” she says, and her voice makes me grit my teeth. It’s so full of pity, and she’s looking at me like I’m one of those shelter animals on TV. “You don’t have to lie about it anymore. I just want what’s best for you, you know that.”

“Right,” I say, and it comes out drier than I meant for it too, but it’s hard to hold back now.

“I’m not just making things up. The guystoldme it was fake. They said they were lying to help you save face.”

My stomach churns, acid burning up my throat. It feels like I might be sick, but I try to breathe through it. Why would they say that? When were they talking to Isabelle anyway? It’s not unheard of for her to just make things up, but why would she come up with something that I could just easily ask the guys about if she didn’t think she could get away with it.

And if it is true, and that’s what they told her…

The thought of that hurts enough to take my breath away. Maybe that was why we started this in the first place, so I wouldn’t look pathetic in front of my sister and the rest of my family, but I thought… I thought things had changed. I thought we were doing this now because we wanted to.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe I was the only one deluding myself into thinking this was more and that it had started to feel real. Maybe all three of them were just counting down the days until they could be done with me and get back to their lives.

Why else would they have told Isabelle the truth? After what she did to me? They seemed so upset with her, but to find out they’ve been talking to her behind my back… I don’t even know what to do with that.

I can feel tears trying to spring into my eyes, but I blink them back. I’m not going to start crying here.

“Is that all you wanted to say?” I ask her, keeping my head held high.

“No,” she says. “There’s more. I know they were lying to help you, but I don’t think they like you very much, Vi. I don’t know, maybe something changed, but the things they said about you…”

“What?”

She pulls out her phone. “Usually I would mind my business, but I can’t let you go on not knowing what they really think about you. It wouldn’t be doing my job as your sister.”

It would have been funny some other time, to think of Isabelle having any idea what it means to be a good sister. Now, there’s just dread in the pit of my stomach.

She leads me farther away from everyone else and brings up an audio clip on her phone. It starts in the middle of a sentence, but it’s clearly Rhett’s voice speaking. “—her stupid little bakery. She’s there every day and nobody cares. It’s actually pathetic.”