“How have you never—no, never mind. Add it to the list of things we need to do,” she says distantly, obviously talking to Oliver, before her voice comes back more clearly on the phone. “I thought you were in a dinky little mountain town. Did you go into Denver or something?”
“No, they have one here,” I tell her.
“With a secret door and a password?”
“Yes.”
“Are there animal antlers all over the place?”
“No. It’s like…castle-chic. Old brick walls, old paintings, Turkish rugs, lots of red velvet in the furniture.”
“Ooh, I officially will need the password once you’ve completed your secret mission so that I can go meet them too. Tell me who’s who. What are they like? If we weren’t related, would you hit on any of them?”
“No.”
“This is where I remind you that you called her,” Oliver says.
“Fair enough,” I reply as she laughs.
“Are they seriously as fun as I am, or are they actually just a little more fun than you, so you think they’re as fun as I am?”
“Feeling the love this morning, Daph.” I’m smiling as I say it, because she has a point. “But I think they might be more fun than you. They play off of each other, so it’s like watching a perpetual game of one-upmanship, except it’s hilarious instead of annoying.”
“Tell me more.”
“Apparently, Jack always loses at rock paper scissors, so when we were at the speakeasy, Decker and Lucky demanded they play to determine who had to leave and go get Chex Mix from the grocery store.”
“Lame,” Daph says at the same time Oliver says, more distantly, “What’s rock paper scissors? I’ve never heard of that before.”
She cracks up. “Stop, you have too,” she says to him.
“Not if it’s a game. I’m boring. I don’t do games.”
“Oh my god, you’re in a mood.” Daph’s still laughing.
“A good mood,” he replies.
I miss my sister.
And oddly, I think I miss Oliver too.
He’s annoying as hell right now—he’s being intentionally obnoxious—but that’s Daphne’s problem, and she clearly likesthis new, outspoken, annoying version of him, so I’m happy for them both.
Provided Oliver never hurts her.
Then I’ll break my own rules about not tearing people down.
“Lucky—he’s the nurse—grew his hair out to pose as Decker—he’s the novelist—for Decker’s official author photos,” I tell Daphne and Oliver. “And then they argued about who’s more handsome.”
“Aren’t they identical?”
“It’s a seriously good thing they have different styles. I couldn’t tell them apart based on face alone. Body either, honestly.”
Daphne snickers. “I’d totally do that if I were a triplet.”
“I know. There are some inside jokes I still don’t get, but they told me that Jack was fucking Switzerland, like Switzerland is the name of his current hookup, and even though I know they were talking about how Lucky likes me, Decker’s highly suspicious of me, and Jack’s playing it neutral, it was really, really funny. Oh! And get this—they don’t actually date, because supposedly Decker’s neighbor cursed them when they were in high school and if any of them falls in love, then it’ll splinter their triplet brotherhood.”
“No.”
