Everything is about to change.
My sister will marry a prince and move to another country. Hadley is married now. Karoline, though I’m not super close with her like Lucy and Hadley are, will move to Nashville this summer.My job will stay the same, and I will stay here for now with my two cats and slew of plants.
Or, cat. Lucy will probably take Frannie with her.
Am I okay with that direction of life for me?
For now, yes.
I won’t rush my life. I will focus on my career; it is a fulfilling one. I love getting to help reunite families, or at the very least, settle disputes and bring about some semblance of reconciliation. In fact, I could work on case files until Lucy makes it home safe and sound. But then I remember that I left them at work this evening due to promising my parents that I would do something fun.
But how do I have fun when I’m worried about my sister?
And why am I so worried about her?
I trust Finley well enough. He will take care of her.
Resolved not to waste the last fifty-two minutes that I have left before she’s supposed to be home, I open my phone again and click on my e-reader app. I flick through the many unread books I’ve accumulated and settle on trying out a political dystopian Lucy recommended to me. I don’t read fiction much, but Lucy is usually spot-on when she recommends one to me.
She knows not to recommend the fluffy stuff, at least.
Slipping the blanket from over the couch, I tug it around me while the cats flee from the constraints and snuggle in.
You will relax,I chastise myself.This is fun to you, and you will enjoy it.
Thoroughly scolded, I open the book and immerse myself into a post-Soviet Union dystopian where the woman is apparently set to become the next ruler, but her plans fall through when she falls inlove with the royal prince-slash-spy from the warring country. The romance thread doesn’t bother me because the characters are already set up in such a way that I actually find myself cheering them on. My vision gets a little blurry and my head gets a little fuzzy, but I’m too immersed in the book to toss it to the side in favor of sleep, no matter how many times my cats nudge me and meow for me to bring them to bed. I can wait a little longer. An hour later, when Lucy opens the door, I’m startled and yanked from the world of premiers and sectors and deception. Lies are permitted when in fallen societies, after all. I glance over my shoulder as she walks in, but then I turn my attention back to the book.
“Welcome home,” I say, a big, fat yawn hijacking my words and a shiver rippling through me. “Ugh, sorry. I’m glad you made it back safely. I’m enjoying this book you told me about.”
“Did you doubt I’d keep my promise?” a decidedly male voice asks, and I turn my head quick enough my neck could have possibly snapped if I executed the motion any harder. Finley leans casually against the doorframe with crossed arms, a smirk painted across his face.
They must have had a good night.
Why does that thought sink my stomach and cause my head to spin?
“Not at all,” I finally respond, not meeting his gaze and resuming reading my book.
Trying to, at least.
“I took tons of pictures for you, Lor,” Lucy says, appearing in front of me.
I smile. “Lovely.”
Lucy plucks my phone from my hand.
“Hey!” I fumble out of the hole I’ve put into the couch from nestling in for an hour. As the blanket falls around me, I remember that I’m in old gray joggers and a white shirt that has exactly three holes in it—one in the armpit, one on the belly, and one on the shoulder. My hair is a frizzy mess, and I’m basically a living troll.
This is what I get for taking people’s stupid advice to have fun. I should have worked, gone to bed at a reasonable hour, and trusted my sister would be fine. Another prickly shiver overcomes me.
“Whoa,” Finley says, his eyes widening. He captures my attention instantly, and I watch in horror as he looks me up and down… something I’ve seen happen a million and ten times to Lucy, but never to me. This is scarier than Ted Bundy.
Lucy appears at his side as his eyes freely roam over me. He must be astonished that the put-together Lorelei Spence actually dresses like a homebody teenager when she’s alone and turned in for the night.
Yeah, that’s it.
Finley takesmyphone from Lucy, and I watch in a new wave of horror as Lucy unlocks it. Because we have the same stupid face.
I march over to the two of them, ignoring the weakness in my steps, and reach to grab my phone from him, but he holds it up over his head while Lucy steps back with her arms crossed. I reach and jump, but I’m still not able to reach my phone. I try again, but this time, I jump forward, knocking into Finley like we are two boys celebrating a sports victory with a chest bump.
