I would not be experiencingany more. I already had one foot in the addiction river of sexual Mark Holbrook. I was not belly flopping in. Instead, I holed up with my sewing for the next few days.
There was radio silence from my sister. But Mark had texted me a few times. I just gave noncommittal answers. I was already playing fast and loose. I was not going to be the person that led him on.
You just have to break up with him somehow.
The doorbell rang at my parents’ apartment, making me jump and almost stab myself with the needle. After checking to make sure the snow-white fabric was still pristine, I padded out to the living room. My parents were on an estate sale excursion. Somehow they were planning on packing yet another piece of antique furniture into the small apartment.
I was expecting an Amazon package, but when I opened the door, it was not, in fact, my triceratops taco holder. Instead, standing there was my twin sister.
“The gays aren’t here?” she said snidely, pushing past me. “Oh, I can see they aren’t unless they’re buried under all of this garbage. What a sad little apartment.” She whirled around to face me and pushed her designer sunglasses up on top of her head.
One of the Roombas chugged along the shag carpet and bumped against her foot. My twin made a face and kicked the robot. It retaliated by beeping then running over her shoe.
I tamped down a laugh. “What do you want?” I asked.
“You were trying to steal Mark from me, weren’t you,” she challenged, crossing her arms. “Pathetic.” Memphis Eve shook her head slightly. “Poor little dumpy Brea. You were never the pretty twin. Don’t you see? He’ll grow bored with you. Just wait. But don’t worry, I’m not going to try to snap him up from you.”
“Did one of those sheiks you’ve been taking money from finally offer to lock you in his harem in exchange for a Birkin bag?” I asked meanly.
“I have better prospects—home-grown American ones. I was just messaged with a most intriguing offer, and I’ll be moving to Boston to live in a luxury hotel. I just came to warn you to stay away from Mark Holbrook.”
“You can’t have two guys,” I scoffed.
My sister gave me a look filled with pity. “And to think I wasted my time with a sisterly gesture. Poor little naïve Brea. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“He deserves better than someone like you!” I shot at her.
Memphis Eve laughed and gestured around. “How are you going to marry him, be the mother of his children, when you live in a hoarder house?”
“‘Hoarder’ is harsh language,” I protested. “I prefer to think of this apartment as cozy.”
“Mark’s not going to think of it that way,” she said snidely. “His whole family is old Connecticut money. You have the veneer of being the quirky, fun girl that makes him forget about his responsibilities, but once he gets to know the real you, he’s not going to like you.”
She swept out of the apartment, and I slumped on the couch. One of the Roombas came and bumped against my foot.
Then I realized my plan had worked! Memphis Eve was leaving, and I could break up with Mark. The thought made me sad.You need to do it.I picked up my phone to text him then put it down. God, I was so terrible at confrontation!
I should break it off.Instead, I grabbed a packet of cheese doodles from the kitchen and hid in my room, dreading the next day’s meeting.
25
Mark
Iarrived at the Wedding in the City office early specifically so I could see Brea. But she was cold and refused my attempts to talk to her or get her alone. What had happened? It was like we were back to day one.
Maybe you moved too fast for her. You could have freaked her out. Or maybe she really just does not like you.Screw her for leading me on then.
“We have the first wave of RSVPs in,” Ivy said, gesturing to a spreadsheet on her tablet. “Today we need to look at the seating arrangements! Now, I think we have the newly renovated ballroom at the Holbrook estate. The best layout is to have the head table on this side with the gift bags by the windows but leave that area open so people have a nice view of the gardens. We’ll put the cake and dessert table along this wall, with round tables interspersed. I find that the ten-seater tables are a bit cumbersome and not conducive to any sort of discussion, so I was thinking the six-seater tables.”
“Let’s do a mix,” Brea suggested as Ivy made notes.
“Yes,” Liz said. “I have some family members who are all going to want to sit at the same table.”
The discussion was tedious. Now that Brea was being standoffish, I had zero reason to be attending these things. I scowled at the miniature model of the Holbrook estate ballroom.
“You think Wes will like this arrangement?” Liz asked me sweetly.
I grunted.
