Page 29 of sWitch

Trev shrugged. “We’re twins; maybe she got us confused.”

“You’d think the fact that I have tits and you don’t would be a tip-off.”

Trevor chuckled and opened his mouth to speak before choking on his words at the sight before us. Waiting at the bottom of the stone staircase leading up the front of our parents’ house were our girls.

My gaze immediately fell to Fauna, who…who… Confusion furrowed my brows as I took in her attire. My typically pink princess wore a modest, grey pencil skirt, a white blouse, and her blonde hair tied in a bun. Blonde hair. Not pink, not streaked with aqua. There were no sparkles on her face, no magenta eyeshadow. She looked so…unlike herself.

Mary Jane smoothed her emerald-green dress, clutching a bottle of wine, and looked over my shoulder at Trevor before noticing me. “I’ve always wanted to see this house up close.”

I didn’t even remember inviting her, and again, I was reminded that I needed to break up with her.

“Why’s that?” I asked, still unable to look away from Fauna, who was strongly avoiding eye contact with me.

Trevor inched closer to MJ. “She owns a real estate firm, duh.”

“You do?” I asked, still not wholly able to pry my curious gaze from Fauna’s bland ensemble.

We made our way up the steps, but Fauna lagged behind, giving me a chance to whisper. “What’s up with the boring-ass outfit? You look like the black and white portion of the beginning of The Wizard of Oz.”

She cut me a glance. “What’s up with your boring-ass suit? You look like John Trovolta in Grease when he dresses like a football player to impress Olivia Newton-John.”

“Don’t like it? Thought you likedjocks? Though, thank you. I like being compared to Danny. Grease is one of my favorite musicals, actually.”

Fauna rolled her eyes, a tendril of blonde hair falling from her bun. “Thought you likedbusiness women?”

I wanted to continue the conversation—or kiss her—but the tall front door opened like the gates of hell themselves, revealing the house manager, Watson.

“Hey Mr. W.,” Trevor greeted.

“Nice to see you all again.” Mr. Watson was always formal, despite knowing us since we were toddlers. He ushered us inside and took the girls’ coats. Announcing us at the entrance of the dining room. The kitchen was bustling with activity, and it became clear that my parents had added more house staff since the last time I’d visited. I’d always felt out of place here. Trevor, however, looked right at home. In fact, so did Mary Jane. The opulence suited them; they were comfortable in it, whereas Fauna looked at her shoes while I marked pathways to the exits and wondered if the windows were still unlocked from my last daring escape from the last family dinner.

Trevor leaned in. “How much do you want to bet Watson locked the windows after last time?”

“You’re on. He’s not on dusting duty anymore, so he probably forgot.”

My mother appeared like a ghostly apparition in flowing white and Chanel number five. “My children! My children have returned to me.”

“Is she okay?” Mary Jane mouthed after a long hug from my mom. I made a drinking gesture with my hand, and Fauna giggled.

I leaned in. “Mom’s a retired broadway actress and thinks a continuous wine buzz coaxes out her creative prowess.”

Fauna covered her smile and graciously accepted a hug from my mother before Mom embraced and inspected Trevor and me. “You’ve both gotten taller,” she exclaimed. “And my, what perfect love matches you’ve acquired. Trevor and Mary Jane, Remy and Fauna. I couldn’t have cast better pairs if I directed your lives’ plays!” She spun, letting her white cape fan out.

Oh, shit. Trevor and I exchanged glances and realized we were mismatched. He was standing next to MJ while I was standing next to Fauna.

“Switch?” he asked, and we repositioned.

Trevor cleared his throat. “No, Mom. Fauna is my girlfriend. Mary Jane is Remy’s girlfriend.”

My mother pursed her red lips and surveyed us as Mary Jane took my arm and Fauna took to Trevor’s side. “I don’t believe you,” she proclaimed. My throat tightened, and I made to make a joke but was interrupted by the booming voice of my dad.

“Ah, the prodigal twins return.” Our father, already swirling a glass out scotch and dressed in his house coat that likely cost the same as our monthly rent, stood between us and hugged our shoulders. Mr. Monroe The CEO could never hug us one at a time.

I remarked with an edge of snark, “Always with the double side hug, Dad. Always ever efficient, even with doling out fatherly affection.”

“Hey, Dad,” Trevor said. “This is my girlfriend, Fauna.”

My father shook Fauna’s hand and took a small sip of scotch before glancing at my date. Trevor elbowed me, and I pulled my gaze from Fauna’s nervous, non-sparkly, natural-makeuped face. Even when MJ was right next to me, I forgot about her. That was it; I vowed to break up with her after dinner.

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