I nod this time, and he plants another kiss on my cheek and jogs to his Jeep. I go the other way toward the bus stop.
This weekend is much-needed. I need an intervention.
I pull up in front of Delia’s house. The front lawn is covered in a dusting of snow, and the yellow-painted brick facade is impeccable, a reminder of what she has and I don’t.
Perfection.
I shake my head, banishing my evil thoughts. She’s my sister, my twin, and she deserves a good life. So do I, which is why I need to come clean with Reid.
Speak of the devil, my phone pings with a text.
REID: You there in one piece?
ANDI: Yep, but got to pee so bad ... text you later.
Indeed, I do have to pee like a pregnant woman on a trampoline.
Of course, Gabby’s asleep when I turn around. Duh, she didn’t jump or shriek when I parked. And ... another reason why I need a deep, dark intervention. I’ve forgotten my daughter while consumed with thoughts of Reid.
When I look back up, Delia has thrown the door open and is walking out to greet me. Her hair is in a bun, and she’s wearing leggings, a long sweater, and Uggs. We’re almost mirror images of each other, except my Uggs are knockoffs from Target.
“Hey,” she says. “Can I help?”
“Nah, we only have one duffel, but Gabby’s asleep. Can I leave her for a few minutes and run in and pee?”
“Of course. We’re in the middle of the burbs. You could leave her there for the rest of the day with the car running and the heat blaring, and nothing would happen to her or your car.”
“Ha, okay. I gotta go.” I dash to the door, duffel in hand, and dump it in the foyer before hitting the bathroom.
“Where are the kids?” I ask when I walk out.
“They’re at some enrichment thing at the school. They’ll be back soon. Oh, and James is back early. I forgot to tell you.”
“What?” If I’d known that, I wouldn’t have come.
“I knew you would cancel, so that’s why I didn’t. Anyway, he’s going to grab the kids when he finishes at the office. That teacher isn’t there today. You know, Ms. Perky Boobs.”
I lean into the kitchen counter. “Seriously, I thought we agreed that was ridiculous, plus it was months ago. You’re still fixating?”
“I know, but I still try to limit interaction. Coffee?” she asks, changing the subject.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“So, tell me what’s up with you while it’s quiet for two minutes.”
“Oh, you know. Making money from my crappy website, socking it away. I still didn’t tell Reid.”
“Andi, you just need to tell him. He’s not going to break your confidence. I spent five minutes with him, and I know this. Plus he survived vomitgate. He’s a keeper.”
The coffee machine whirs, grinding its own beans, sounding like a plane is taking off in the kitchen.
“It’s not that. I know he wouldn’t blow my cover. It’s just he’s all good. I mean, honest-to-God good, and that’s not me.”
“Andi.” Her expression levels me. “You did what you had to do under hideous circumstances.”
“When I look at his blog and mine, I see he’s really doing what I wanted to do. He made an authentic blog that grew organically. Mine is all gaslighting and BS, making fun of people. Tormenting them, and why? Because they thought I was chubby? They didn’t want to be my friends? I decided to ruin them and profit from it. And now I have all these people really starting to pay attention to me and my blog, and I don’t know if I want that.”
“You’re a mess.” My sister comes close and runs her hand down my back. “Andi, you’re overthinking this. You were in a bad place when you built that blog. Now you know the business. You can do whatever you want. Change it, rebuild it, tell Reid, live your life.”
