I nearly choke. “Excuse me?”
“Stop making me cookies. Stop befriending Parker. Stop prancing around here half-naked. Stop begging for attention from my family at the club. Stop playing whatever game this is, and drop the fucking act already. You’re not clever. You’re so obvious it’s painful. Every time you speak, I get a goddamn migraine.” He jabs his finger into his temple. “Right. Fucking. Here.”
Embarrassment and humiliation slam into me, knocking me off balance. I want to respond, but I’m at a loss, rendered speechless by his outburst. But that’s okay because he’s not done.
“If you’re trying to come on to me, don’t. If you’re trying to get my pity, you’re failing. If you want myfather’spity, well, dream on. I’ve dealt with people like you all my life. Your cover is paper-thin, and your performance is lacking. I see right through you.”
He thinks I’m…coming on to him?
Deep breath in. Deep breath out. Don’t you dare cry.
“I understand that you’re mad at Mel for lying to you,” I say, keeping my voice quiet. Level. It’s easier to hold back the tears this way. “But you have no right to take it out on me. I’ve been nothing but nice to you.” His mouth twists, but I ignore it. “It’s not an act. It’s not some sort of come-on. I’m tired of you treating me like some con-woman or some ditzy airhead or some bumbling idiot. Honestly, you’d think you’d have some compassion for people given your line of work.”
“You don’t know anything about me or my line of work,” he says coolly.
I would laugh if I wasn’t so upset. “I don’t?”
“No.”
I take a shaky breath and let him have it. “I know you take your coffee black. I know you like your steak medium-rare and your eggs over-easy. I know you hit the gym every morning at 6:00 a.m. and that you never return home without a green smoothie. I know your company makes affordable prosthetics for kids, and I know Parker, who admires and looks up to you, by the way, was the first kid you helped. I know your father thinks I’m nothing, and your mother disapproves of my sister. I know you hate champagne and golf, and your parents have no idea you and Mel are on the rocks. And I know that whatever you did to my sister has made her severely unhappy.”
His face goes blank, his eyes shuttering, and I shift uncomfortably because I don’t want to be involved. I don’t want to be in the middle. I don’t want to dothis.
“What I did to her,” he repeats, his voice eerily soft.
“Yes,” I say quietly. “Whatever you did has—”
“Imustbe the problem.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “You’redefinitelythe problem.”
“So, I shouldn’t care that she lied to me about where she was from?”
“I’m sure she had a good reason.”
“Or that she lied to me about your father beingdead?”
I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment because Idon’tunderstand why Mel would lie about that, but I continue to defend my sister anyway. “Again, I’m sure she had a good reason.”
“I shouldn’t care that she’s cheating on me?”
“I’m sure…” I trail off as his words register. I can’t help it; my mouth pops open at the sheeraudacityof his accusation. “What?”
“Yeah, you heard it right. Melanie, yoursaintof a sister, is cheating on me,” he repeats, his voice slow. “Has been for a while. Probably at this very moment.”
My face flushes, and my fingertips start to tingle because Mel would never cheat on someone, betray someone, hurt someone like that. I feel my eyes begin to fill at how upset I am by his allegation, so I blink, blink, blink until they clear.
“Mel wouldn’t do that,” I say, shocked by the vehemence in my own voice.
His eyebrow cocks. “She wouldn’t?”
For a second, my mind flashes back to the condoms I found in her suitcase, but I push the thought away. Lots of people carry condoms. It doesn’t mean she’s cheating. It doesn’t mean Landon’s accusation holds any truth.
“No,” I assure, coming to my sister’s defense.
He gives a sarcastic laugh, shaking his head. “You haven’t seen her for eight fucking years, and yet you’re so sure that she wouldn’t do that?”
“Yes.”
