Her lip curls, flaring one nostril with it. “Skillet is fine. But don’t presume I’m atype. You know nothing about me.”
“I know you’re on a sabbatical from your life because your little sister’s shacking up with your ex-fiancé.”
That one’s annoying.
I don’t like having things in common with people like Margot.
And bypeople like Margot, I mean people who lie about who they are and claim to be related to people I care about.
The Margot who helps clean up spilled coffee in a café and makes friends with elderly novelists and has her fellow housekeeping staff talking about how nice she is—if it’s real, I could not dislike that about her.
Which isn’t the same as liking something about her.
It’s simply notdislikingher.
She smirks right back at me. “They have my blessing. I’m actually happy for them.”
“Right.”
“Aren’t you happy for your ex and your stepbrother? Assuming they’re both happier now? Which I’m not saying was your fault. Sometimes people just don’t match. And sometimes people change. The world is rarely black-and-white, right-and-wrong, good-and-evil.”
“We’re talking about you. Are you actually related to the Sullivan triplets, or are you scamming them for something?”
“What the actual fuck would I scam them for?”
“You tell me.”
“We share DNA. There’s zero chance my mother would’ve given birth to triplets without the world knowing about it, andthey insist their mother remembers giving birth to them, and that they accidentally found out their dad isn’t their biological dad, which means my father and their father must be where we get the common genetics.”
“Maybe their existence is inconvenient for you and you need to learn the best way to take them out.”
“Oh my god, are you serious? No, stop.We are not discussing this here.”
“We’re discussing it somewhere if you want me to not tell Decker immediately who you are and what you’re doing.”
She’s a pacer. You can tell she wants to pace, but this room is approximately the size of one and a half of me.
There’s no room.
And the look she gives me suggests it’s my fault the room is this small.
She picked it.
She can deal.
“I’m going to tell him,” she grits out. “I’m going to tell all three of them. Butnot yet. There are things?—”
“There are alwaysthings. When? What date and time are you telling them?”
“Three weeks from this Friday.”
She made that up on the spot. I don’t know how I know, but Iknow. “Why then?”
More voices drift in from the hallway. Can’t tell if it’s guests or staff, but it’s not Theo and Jonas again.
“I have to get back to work because I have a job I’ve committed to and I’m going to fucking do it,” she hisses. “I’m off in thirty minutes. Think about what you want. We’ll discuss it at the cabin. Also? If you tell a single soul who you think I am before we discuss exactly how we’re going to ride out this situation, you will regret it every single day for the rest of your life.”
I swallow theooh, so scaryretort that’s at the tip of my tongue.
