“I’m impossible?” Uh-oh.
“Blondie,” Wilder whispers.
“You’re the most irresponsible person I know,” I continue, undeterred. “You can’t uproot my life because you don’t know how to use birth control.”
“Oh!” Isla screeches. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low, Ingrid. You have no idea what my life is going to be like. I’ll be all alone. Every day. While Harvey probably finds a new undergrad student to fuck.”
I did not need that visual.
“I’m not giving you my room,” I make clear.
“Then give me your job,” she demands.
I think I hear Pierre in the background scream no, but I can’t be sure.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her.
“You’re the worst sister in the world.”
“I love you, Isla.”
“I hate you, Ingrid.”
Then, there’s a resoundingclick.
She hung up on me.
I stare at the phone in my hand as Wilder twists the gas cap back on.
“I’ve never met anyone as aggravating as my sister,” I tell him.
He offers me a small smile. “She’s going through a lot.”
“She keeps making the same mistakes,” I return coolly. “And I’m tired of those mistakes falling on my shoulders. Why do I have to give up my room and my job for her? She always makes everything about her.”
Suddenly, the realization hits hard.
That’s how my relationship was with Cash, too. It was either about him or Fanny or Archibald. It was never about me.
But that’s not how it is with Wilder.
I reach for him, pulling him close. Then, I rest my forehead against his as the warm California summer breeze wraps around us.
“How much farther to the beach?” I ask him.
He rubs his nose against mine. “About forty minutes.”
I’ve been pushing him to live together. To go to NYU. All my asks have been purely selfish. I want to get away from my family.
What about Wilder? What does he want? What’s best for him?
“What do you want, Wilder?” I murmur as I close my eyes.
“Only you,” he responds as his fingers find my hair.
“I mean it,” I reinforce. “What do you want? Do you want to go to NYU? Do you want to stay home and build a life in the same place we grew up? What do you want, Wilder?”
He exhales through his nose. “I’m not sure, Ingrid.”
