I yank open the door, greeting the sturdy woman who protects my sister most of the time. “Hi, Wanda! How’s everything going?” I ask brightly, imitating Haven.
She blinks, shaking her head in amusement. “It’s eerie.”
“I know,” I say, pleased we’re so convincing.
She walks with me down the hall, then the steps, then into the lobby. From behind the desk, Bridget doesn’t even bat a lash. She simply smiles. “Do you need help with anything, Haven?”
I drum my fingers on the counter, talking a touch faster than I do usually, a bit peppier. “Is that arcade still open on Main Street?”
“The one we all used to go to in high school?”
“Yes. The retro arcade,” I say.
“It is.”
“Fabulous. I haven’t played Ms. Pac-Man in ages,” I say, naming Haven’s favorite game.
“Pretty sure you still have the high score.”
Well, Havenwasexcellent at that game. “Awesome,” I say, then turn around, but like I forgot something, I spin back. “What time is it?”
Bridget smiles kindly, clearly knowing Haven was always rubbish with time. “Seven ten.”
“Thanks, Bridge. Don’t wait up too late for me, but I’ll text you later.”
She looks momentarily confused, but I’ll explain it to her soon.
When I turn around, I say to Wanda, “Do you like arcade games? I have to show you this fun arcade in my hometown. It’s even better than the one in—” I stop, think, then take a wild guess: “Santa Monica.”
“That’s high praise.”
“I know,” I say, and we make a show of walking through thelobby. And I mean show. Because I want someone to see me act. I thought I’d hate it, but acting in my own body—so to speak—is surprisingly fun. I’m not me right now. I’m my sister, and I know what to do with my face. Smile. Shine. Beam.
Like Haven did when she faced her demons and took charge of her mental health. When she went to therapy and worked on herself. When she moved forward from grief and the chokehold it had on her.
Like that, I protect my sister as I walk out of the hotel, being the best bodyguard for her so her secret boyfriend can slip upstairs and see her.
“Damn, girl. You’re working it,” Wanda whispers proudly.
“Thank you.”
Yup. I’m pulling it off.
C’mon, photographers. Show up. Take my pic. I dare you.
I’m only mildly disappointed that there are no photographers waiting on the street. But I’m wildly happy when I spot William in a blue Prius, pulling around the side of the hotel to the back door.
I turn to go, having pulled it off when someone clears a throat from behind me. “Just the person I wanted to see.”
Oh, shit.
I wince, stopping in my tracks at the sound of Vega’s voice. Didn’t see that coming. But then, I fasten on my best Haven grin, turning around. Vega strides from inside the inn toward me on the street. I’m a little terrified. She’s the most no-nonsense of no-nonsense people I’ve ever met.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I ask brightly.
“The scene tomorrow,” she says, tapping her chin. “Your character—I think before the wedding, in order for us to believe she’d run off with her brother’s best friend when she finds out her groom is cheating, she needs to be doubting her choices already.”
Vega waits.
