SPOILED LEFTOVERS
“You’re not watching it, are you?” Ashley didn’t wait for me to answer. “Turn it off.”
I let out a low groan, my eyes glued to the massive television screen in the cozy living room—the living room Leo and I had decorated together when we’d first moved in. “I can’t help it.”
“I don’t understand why you’d torture yourself like this.” My older sister’s voice was slightly muffled beneath the rhythmic click of her turn signal. I pictured her frowning but still effortlessly pretty—eyes focused on the road while my voice echoed through her car’s speakers.
Meanwhile here I sat…
These days—especially this last week—no one would guess we were related.
Sure, we were both five feet four inches and shared the same hazel eyes, but that’s where the similarities ended. Ashley had long, wavy, sun-kissed hair, the kind that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. And boobs. Amazing ones.
Meanwhile, my hair was a mass of curly brown chaos—and my boobs were…fine.
Respectable. The kind you could take home to your parents.
I mean, I’m not a total lost cause. But I’m definitely no Ashley.
And maybe because of that—and a hundred other little things—we didn’t always understand each other.
But we always supported each other.
Almost always, anyway.
Usually.
“You still there?”
“Yeah, I just…” I trailed off, flailing for a reasonable explanation.
But there wasn’t one. I didn’t know why I was watching this either, except that I couldn’t not watch.
Live, on KNPT Channel 12, was the kitchen set I had designed. My pots and pans. My carefully curated little rack of spices. My mini herb garden that I’d nurtured and cared for as if the bushy little plants were my children.
And standing under the lights…my fiancé.
Ex-fiancé, if we were going to be technical.
But the woman standing next to him now, giggling while she abandoned the sauce she was stirring to hand him his favorite chef’s knife, definitely wasn’t me.
She had glorious auburn hair, was perfectly made up, and wore an immaculate apron over designer clothes.
She was, in fact, the antithesis of me.
“Luna, at least tell me you’ve eaten something today. Have you gotten dressed? Are you staying hydrated?”
I dropped my eyes guiltily, taking in the yoga pants and faded lobster T-shirt I was wearing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d washed them.
As for my health and nutrition, I was pretty sure I’d eaten a Pop-Tart for breakfast, and I’d made my way through half a bottle of wine the night before. So…not the greatest.
“Of course,” I said, doing my best to sound convincing. I was just glad neither she nor my mom were here to see me living up to Mom’s low expectations.
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I’m fine.” I tried to sound at least a little chipper, forcing a smile she couldn’t see, but that I hoped she might hear in my voice.
“You need to get out, Looney.” Ashley called me by the nickname she’d given me ages ago, but her voice was softer now. Sad.
