“When did you get so smart?” I teased, nudging her shoulder with mine. “Sorry we don’t have more money at the moment, but Maimeó’s funeral kind of cleaned us out.”
She shrugged, leaning her head on mine. “I know. Things will get better. And once you’re back to your normal uptight self, we can all get on with our lives.”
“I’m not uptight.”
She scoffed. “Of course not.”
“I just have goals in life. You should try it sometime.”
“I have goals.”
I quirked a brow. “Like how many parties you can go to in a weekend?”
“That’s one of them. The other one is how many brownies I can eat without throwing up.”
I made a face. “You’re gross.”
She grinned. “I know.”
“But I love you. Even if I yell at you all the time.”
“Love you too. And the yelling is kind of therapeutic. I’d miss it if you suddenly stopped doing it. And besides, you don’t yell all the time. Like right now. Your voice is as soothing as a church hymn.”
“Things will get better.” I sighed.
At least I hoped they would. Work had been more of a struggle than usual. And Taylor was relentless in her quest to find out what happened in Vegas. Dodging her had become a full-time job.
Brielle sat up, eyes bright. “They will. Because we’re awesome.”
“We are.” I reluctantly nodded.
She clapped her hands together to make sure I paid attention. “Now repeat after me: I’m a kick-ass bitch, and I will sort my life out. And I’ll buy my beautiful sister the necklace she’s dying to have.”
I waved her hands away from my face. “Shut up.”
She shrugged. “Worth a try. Now, do you want to go for a walk? Or a run?” she asked, not looking at all excited by the idea. I wasn’t surprised since she didn’t like running.
“You’d go for a run with me?”
“I would. Because I love you and I know something happened. And you won’t tell me about it. I figured I’d just wear you down strategically until you break.”
I chuckled. I had no doubt she’d be relentless. But there was no way I’d talk about Vegas.
“Fair enough. You can try, I guess.”
“You’ll break eventually.”
She seemed awfully sure of herself. I didn’t know if I should be scared or impressed.
“We’ll see. But lucky for you, I don’t feel up for a run. Why don’t we watch TV instead?”
Brielle snatched the remote off the table before I had a chance to. “Let’s do a lucky pick.”
I groaned. A lucky pick could go sideways quickly. We’d been doing it ever since I got a black eye and Brielle ended up covered in lemonade when we couldn’t agree on what to watch. She threw the remote at me—hence the black eye—and I emptied a whole bottle of lemonade over her head in response. We’d just moved in with Maimeó, and things were still a little shaky.
As a punishment, Maimeó would only let us watch TV when we used the lucky pick method. And now that was just how we did things.
We’d both close our eyes, and whoever had the remote would just click through. The other person would randomly call out, “Stop.” Whatever movie or series was selected was what we would watch.
