“Mostly because carrying a grudge only hurts the person who carries it. It’s really not that complicated.”
“Thanks,” I reply drily.
He chuckles and thinks about it some more. “Is this about Noah?”
“It’s about me. It’s something Grandpa said in the letter he wrote me.” My father faces me, wearing an expression of interest. “He said I should keep living life to the fullest and loving without the breaks on and I’m starting to think I haven’t been doing that.”
He nods in understanding.
“I don’t think you can move forward unless you let go of the past. Bad feelings, grudges––they’ll keep you there, trapped in a place you don’t want to be,” he waxes on. “I had too many things I didn’t want to miss out on, people to love.” A slow smile softens the sharp cut of his jaw, the frown lines around his mouth. “Any resentment I held onto would’ve taken up precious space I needed for all the love and joy I wanted to experience.”
We sit quietly for a bit. “What are you thinking?”
“I think I’m glad I came home. And I think I need to clear some space…thanks, Daddy.”
“Anytime, Cupcake.”
* * *
Minutes later I walk into Annabelle’s bedroom to find her sitting up in bed watching television, prosthesis leaning against the wall by the headboard.
“Move over.”
Bebe glances up from the TV with a hand armed and ready to shove potato chips into her insatiable mouth. Dumping the chips back in the bag, she shimmies to the other side of her king-size bed.
As much as I saw the breakup coming, I’m still raw and in need of someone to help me rally, and for that who better than my sister.
I examine her room as I walk over. Fifty-inch wall-mounted flat screen. Cable. High thread count linens. “I’ll say this for you––you know how to live.”
“Live like you’re dying, baby.” Bebe has always had the darkest sense of humor. More potato chips end up in her mouth.
“What are those, salt and vinegar?” I question. She nods. “I hate those. Gimme some.”
Handing the bag over, she flips through channels. John Cusack appears onscreen. “Oh, oh, oh,” I stutter, waving at the TV. “Stop. Go back. Say Anything. I love this movie. They don’t make them like this anymore.”
“Never seen it.”
I frown. “You’re missing out.” Thrusting a hand into the potato chip bag, I come up with a handful and cram them in my mouth. “Oliver and I broke up.” My voice is as flat and bleak as I feel.
She raises her hands in the air. “Hallefreakinlujah.”
“Don’t say that. He was good to me. We just…grew apart.”
“The Tin-Man grew? I thought inanimate objects didn’t have the capacity.”
“He’s not heartless. He’s just…” I search for a word that doesn’t make him sound cold.
“A host in Westworld?” That earns her a real dirty look, which of course doesn’t stop her. “Has a central processing unit?”
I snort. “Motivated by other stuff, you jerk.”
“What about Noah?”
“What about him? He has a girlfriend.”
I don’t know how serious it is. I don’t see them spending much time together at work but that’s not for me to judge.
“He does?”
“Yeah, he does. And I think you know how I feel about that. And even if he didn’t have a girlfriend, I would have to be an idiot to go there again.”
Even if I do enjoy being around him every day. (Which I kind’a do.) Even if pesky ol’ chemistry was still alive and well between us. (Which it kind’a is.)
She shrugs. “You already are an idiot, so no extra work there.”
I level my little sis with a semi-disappointed smirk. “I gotta say, this is not the pep talk I was hoping for. You’re usually much more positive.”
“I’m having an––issue,” she replies cryptically. Her brow gets pensive, scrunching up a little, and her gaze looks far away. As in lost in another galaxy.
Something against my ass vibrates and I realize I’m sitting on a cell phone. I retrieve it from under me and stare at the screen. “Tinder? Are you kidding me?” I level my sister with a lot of shock and even more amusement.
Bebe lunges for the phone and I hold it away from her, out of her reach. “Give it over, bitch,” she growls.
“Nah ah!” I screech while she crawls all over me. I start laughing hysterically and she pinches and tickles me until I have no choice but to cry mercy. “You little ho. Tinder? That’s kind’a big league. Don’t you think you should start in peewee league first?”
“I can’t date a guy like Jonah as a virgin! He’ll think I’m creepy and weird.” She quickly glances at the screen of her cell and an evil little smile graces her lips. This is bad. Annabelle armed with a plan is a dangerous thing.
“You are creepy and weird.”
“Fine.” Icy blue eyes narrow on me. “I can’t have him thinking I’m bad in bed. I need to practice on someone I’ll never see again. If I get one shot at Jonah––and it won’t be easy as he is highly sought after around these parts––I can’t screw it up by fumbling around in the dark and looking pathetic. And what’s my personal motto?”