“Spill. Now.”
I tip the shoulder of my graphic silk bomber jacket and continue walking. “What’s to tell?”
“I don’t know, maybe why your boyfriend ditched you on family vacation?!”
I deflate, dragging my carry-on for a few more paces. “I don’t wanna talk about this, Liza.”
“Katherine Margaret Chen. You get back here right now.”
Hearing my full name come from Liza’s mouth almost makes me laugh, but I’m too tired to laugh. Too tired to cry. Too tired to do anything but drag my carry-on toward baggage claim.
She catches up to me. “Kate, what’s going on?! If Cam leftmeon family vacation, you’d punch his lights out. Tell me what to do so I can help.”
I shake my head. “IsaidI don’t want to talk about this.”
Liza’s sympathy grows annoyed. “I can’t shake the feeling that you’re keeping something from me. Why? We tell each other everything!”
I continue my steps with a dry response. “Eduardo Garcia, seventh grade.”
An exasperated growl rumbles out of my sister.
“It was one secret boyfriend in theseventhgrade, Kate. Get over it.”
“K,” I say flatly, scanning for signs to get out of here.
“Does it have something to do with Mom and Dad? Or didyoudo something to scare him off?”
I stop in my tracks, then whirl on her. “Funny. Speaking of Mom, you’re starting to sound more and more like her.”
She gapes. “Take that back.”
“No,” I say, twisting and yanking my suitcase along. She stumbles to keep up.
“I can’t believe you!” she sputters. “You’re the one keeping something fromme. Kate, I know how hard your life has been?—”
“Oh, get off your high horse,” I snap, turning on her. “Don’t pretend to understand what you can’t. Fine. You want the truth?”
“Yes!”
“Okay. Here’s the truth. You never stand up to Mom and Dad. I’m the only one who gets blood on her hands, and I have to live with the repercussions because of it! All while you ride off into the sunset, scot-free.” I know I’m acting like a complete jerk, but it’s like my exhausted filter is short-circuiting. Words that have been stewing for years finally bubble over. “Liza, youhatehalf the things Mom has forced in the wedding planning! It’syourfriggin’ wedding! You should just, I don’t know,elopeinstead of listening to one more of her demands. But do you tell her off? Tell her ‘No’ even?”
I get close to her beet-red face. “Nope!” I pop the “p” in the way that I know pisses her off. “There. Now you know the truth. So call me when you stop pretending to know everything I’ve been through.”
I turn and drag my suitcase across the tiles in silence that lasts about two seconds.
“I’m not calling you ever again!” she shouts after me.
I give her a two finger salute without turning back. “Sounds good,” I say, even though we both know she’s lying. I’ll hear from her by the end of the week.
Only, I don’t.
Or the week after that.
Nor the week after that.
It’s been three weeks since Liza has talked to me. Three weeks of finalizing Amantha’s exhibition plans and working alone on grant applications in that tiny office. Val must have taken pity on Brandon, because he now has a temporary desk inside his office where Brandon can make calls. If Kendra is bothered by it, she’s turning a blind eye.
Aside from emails and stilted work conversations, Brandon and I still haven’t talked about that night in the sand. I don’t know why he so vehemently needed that affirmation before I was ready to give it, and it hurts like crazy that he discarded me so quickly because of it.
