Page 43 of Daddies' Little Troublemaker

“Please, Evelyn, say you’ll do it! We’re sisters, and it’s going to be so much fun planning together.”

Mom smiles at me. “Of course you’re going to say yes, right, darling? All this family time will be so much fun!”

Their smiles are so big, and Chloe’s practically bouncing in place. I’m the center of their world right now.

Harold grabs a second muffin and jams it almost whole into his mouth.

“Of course,” I say faintly.

“Excellent. And you can move back here with us,” Mom says.

Chloe claps her hands. “I even cleared out the guest room for you, Evelyn. I was hoping you’d say yes.”

Cue the internal record scratch.

“Wait, you want me to move back?” I ask.

“Well, you don’t have a job right now,” Mom says, “so we thought you could help out more with the wedding planning. Chloe’s work is so stressful, and with you home, it would be easier for us all to communicate. We need you, Evelyn. This is just going to be perfect. You don’t want to be freeloading off of Mark forever, and he’s not even in the country. Here, you can be with your family. You matter to us and this would be such a big help.”

They want me to move back here, to this house. Static fills my ears. It’s impossible to think.

“Right?” Mom prompts. She nods in encouragement, and so does Chloe.

Like an automaton, I nod, too. “Right, sure.”

I’m happier at Dad’s, but I guess I’m moving back here. It’s stupid, I know it’s stupid. Inside, my brain is screaming no, don’t do it! But my mouth won’t let me speak the words.

Because what else can I say? For once, they need me. I matter to them. I matter.

“So, go get your stuff,” Mom says. “We have work to do.”

My plate is still full of food that I have no appetite for. At Mom’s urging, I find my way out of the house.

I should be happy about this, right? Mom wants me to come home, Chloe is acting excited and is giving me my room back.

Then why do I feel like the world is ending?

13

COMMAND

Lincoln

There’s literally nothing for me to do at the San Esteban build on Sunday other than snap at people. Caleb once more called me out for being a butthurt asshole over Evelyn. He knows I watched him and Evelyn fucking by the pool.

“You could’ve come down, joined in,” he said.

“Fuck you, you know I can’t.”

He just shrugged, and after that, I didn’t want to have anything to do with work, so now I’m driving back to Mark’s.

The place is too quiet. No sounds of sugary-sweet pop music come from the back yard or from Evelyn’s room. I don’t hear the inane chatter of contestants on those reality baking shows that she seems to like watching. She isn’t curled up in the corner of the large sofa, phone in hand and brow wrinkled in concentration.

“Evelyn?”

No answer.

I hate that she’s gone. Before, I was mad. Now I just feel…lonely. I grab a beer from the fridge and go to the living room to put a game on TV. I’m not even interested in watching the stupid thing, but the noise keeps the house from feeling so empty.

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