Page 74 of Cabin Fever

"You're the last person who should be jealous. Every guy you've dated has fallen for you."

She turned back to her cherry-red suitcase and haphazardly threw clothes inside. It was frustrating to watch her pack. I was always the organized one while she didn't care, expecting every maid or servant to pick up after her mess.

"Not really. They thought they loved me, but how can you fall in love after one or two nights? I think they fell for the idea of me. It's like no one knows the real me."

I went over and placed my hand on her back. "I know you, Bea. You're my sister. I love you."

She took a deep breath and turned her head. There was something in her eyes she rarely showed anyone—loneliness. The world believed my sister to be the most fun, the most beautiful, and so rich she would never need to work. Yet, she busted her ass to become an executive in my father's company.

There was no nice way to put it—my father was a sexist jerk. He didn't think any of his daughters should work. Bea was only employed at Love Foods because she faked her name on her résumé and started as an office assistant. Most of the people she worked with had no idea who she was for six months until the Christmas party. My father invited all the employees to his home every year.

Bea was found out and not wanting to look like a complete dick, my father wouldn't fire her. He threatened to in private but knew his workers would think he was an asshole for firing his daughter.

"And I love you." She pulled me in for a hug. "I guess seeing you with Carter has made me realize I might want something like that. You know . . . real love."

"It's not love. And even if it was, could you see Dad relating to the sheep farmer Carter?"

Laughter erupted from her mouth and I followed.

"Oh God, Dad would hate him. Until he finds out who—"

I pulled away. "No. Don't start that. No Fitzwilliam talk."

My sister rolled her lips between her teeth and gave me a quick nod. "You're right. No more talk about his possible relation to the Fitzwilliams back home."

That was a surprise. Bea never gave up on her theories. When we were kids, she thought grass was green because there was an ocean under the ground and if she dug far enough, she'd find saltwater. Even when she dug a huge hole in the backyard, upsetting the groundskeeper, and only found dirt, she still claimed her theory true.

"I'm glad you won't tell anyone. I was worried since you've been obsessed with the Fitzwilliam legend since we were kids. And it's not like you and Carter get along."

She turned back to the clothes scattered across the bed, picking up a pair of jeans and pushing them into the case.

"We get along."

Something wasn't right. I may be the organized one, but Bea was the observant one. She never made the mistakes with men that I had in the past.

Yet, almost every time Bea would speak, I could see Carter grit his teeth. When we went out to dinner that first night, he turned to the waiter at the end of the meal and apologized for Bea's rude behavior, right in front of her.

She had always been that way with anyone who wasn't close to her. Bea knew a good server was to remain almost invisible. She was treating the waiter as he should be treated, and for the first time, I realized something felt cold about that. Bea did appear distant, but I was the one who knew why she did it. And as much as it looked to anyone watching that she thought herself better than the waiter, it was that she had been taught—as had I when we were children—to keep a distance from anyone who was paid to take care of us.

That idea only alienated us more.

"No, you don't."

"I still like him and am happy for you two. Maybe that's why I'm keeping my mouth shut about the Fitzwilliam thing. Because I am glad to see my sister finally end up with a good guy." There was sadness in her smile.

"Are you not telling me something, Bea?"

Something definitely wasn't right. Her usual air of confidence and zest for life wasn't quite as vibrant.

She turned to me, her arm folded over herself and she opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out. Bea stood there at war with herself, fighting for words.

"Whatever it is, I love you. Good or bad, I'll still be your sister. Twinsies, remember?"

"It's not for me to say, okay? Please remember that we don't choose the life we're born into, the family we are born into. That life may deal some hard blows, but it's up to us to deal with it as best we can. But we're human, so no decision is perfect."

It was obvious who she was talking about. She knew something more than she was telling me about him.

"Look, Bea, I know it's been almost a month since the wedding, but you have to understand that I'm over Derrick. I don't think I ever loved him. He was just the first guy who checked all the boxes Mom and Dad set for me, and he stuck around." I sighed at how pathetic that sounded. "I know now that he wasn't a good guy, and I'm glad he's out of my life. And if anyone should be warning someone about Derrick, it's me warning you—"

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