“She’s”—I hurry to say, in case my sister starts rambling about very inappropriate things—“the host.”
Eliza’s greeting smile freezes on her face. “Yes, Eliza, just the host.” Her laugh has a fake ring to it. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Jackie, this grump’s sister. You have a lovely home. I love cottage chic.”
“Yes. Thanks.” Eliza’s shoulders are tense, a small blush dusting her cheekbones. “I’ll go” —she gestures toward the door—“check how work is going at the house.”
Jackie deflates. “Don’t leave on my account.”
“I’ll give you some privacy,” Eliza says, grabbing her keys and jacket. She doesn’t spare me a glance and it hits me square in the chest when the door closes behind her.
“Well, if you were getting some—which, good job, she is stunning—you blew that up.”
“What?” I focus back on my sister.
“Dear brother,” she tuts. “You look like a lost puppy right now.”
“You always had a hyperactive imagination.”
“Yeah, right. I suggest you find a way to mend things with yourjust the hostlady friend. Or your hand will get splinters.”
“Don’t be gross.”
She ignores me. “This breakfast looks nice. Is that tea?”
My scowl doesn’t stop her.
“But you hate tea.”
“Apparently, nobody else knows how to make a good cup.”
Jackie has our mother’s soft exterior. Sweet blonde with blue eyes. She never played the cutthroat businesswoman card. She didn’t need to scare people into submission. She is too smart. She has instinct and flair.
I hit low, changing the subject. “Adam stopped by three weeks ago.”
Jackie stills for a nanosecond but composes herself quickly. We spent so much time together when Adam hovered relentlessly after the Harvard mess. I was glad the two of them got along and I suspected it was more than that. I still don’t know what went down, but the shift in dynamic right before she left for London was sharp.
“I haven’t seen much of him.” She walks along the wall lined with bookshelves and picks up a heavy vintage paperweight, examining it. “He keeps himself busy.”
It’s an elegant way of saying he’s on a binge again after his last breakup. Parties and women. Somehow worse than in our college years. It’s self-destructive, an endless cycle over the past seven years.
Jackie has to return to New York, but only after squeezing every detail about Eliza out of me. I make the critical error of showing her the website and unsuccessfully try to keep Jackie from following her social media page.
“Try not to mess this up more than you already have,” she tells me when we walk to her car.
“There’s nothing to mess up. We’re…” Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits? Nothing sounds right. “Temporary.”
“God, you’re dense sometimes,” Jackie scoffs and slams the door in my face.
I keep turning the past few weeks in my head. The moments between us since I arrived here.
An apology is necessary. I know she didn’t ask for more, but I don’t want her to think I’m ashamed to introduce her to my sister. So I cook dinner and wait until it gets cold. I begin to worry until she texts.
ELIZA: I haven’t been eaten by a bear. I’ll stay the night with a friend.
Disappointment drags my mood down even more. I hope her friend is Martha or Quinn because the possibility of it being another man makes my blood boil.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
