Page 22 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

A poke on my shoulder nearly made me jump out of my skin. I turned to see both of my sisters behind me, hot on my heels.

"Letmelook," Annalise whispered.

"No. I'll do it."

Her sharp elbow met my side, and we both shuffled and shoved to get ahead of each other. Lost to our quiet shoving match, neither one of us noticed until it was too late that Astrid had passed us both by and now stood at the door, her eye at the peephole.

She turned to look back at us, her brows drawn together. "There's no one there."

"Are you sure? Did you look down?" Annalise asked. "Someone might be on the floor or just out of sight."

Astrid checked again, taking the time to examine every angle she could while Annalise and I stood there together, the tension pouring off me. Wow, what a week could do. A simple knock on the door turning me into an anxiety-ridden mess.

Once more, she turned to face us. "No one... that I can see anyway."

"Was there anything the delivery guy might have forgotten?" Annalise prodded.

I searched my brain then finally realized there was indeed something. "Napkins and utensils."

She nodded. "That has to be it. He probably just left them in a bag at your door."

"You're right. That's all it is."

Astrid whipped open the door, sticking her head out and looking around, and sure enough, there was a package there. But not a bag like we'd expected. In fact, it resembled something like a book, rectangular, wrapped in what appeared to be tan tissue paper with faded cursive writing on it, giving it an old-world, antique feel.

Bending down to pick it up, Astrid checked the hallway one last time before closing the door and handing it to me. "It feels like a book."

I could practically see the curiosity burning off them as they both stared at me. Everyone knew I wasn't a big reader.

Weighing the package in my hand, it definitely felt like a book. I tried to read the cursive writing but it was very old-fashioned and hard to make out.

Walking over to the kitchen counter, I found a knife and carefully sliced open the tape on either end rather than taking a chance on ripping the delicate paper. For some reason, I wanted to preserve it and try to read it later when I wasn't in a hurry to see this supposed book.

Once I unwrapped it, I found that we'd all been correct at our guess, although it wasn't like it was the most complicated thing to figure out.

I flipped the book over and read the title...Ephemeral Whispers: Echoes of the Abyss, the book I'd been holding in my hand during my conversation with Ethan.

Gasping, I quickly tried to smother my shock because I knew what was coming—questions galore—judging by the fact that my sisters were so close I could hear their breathing.

"A book of poetry?" Annalise asked. "What? Why?"

"Yeah, why? Did you order it?" Astrid's confused tone sounded identical to Annalise's.

"Um, yes. Yes, I did." I didn't want to tell them about Ethan and our little run-in at the Midnight Café. I'd purposely kept all of our interactions a secret because they couldn't stand him either. "I forgot that I ordered it."

There was a weighted silence while they both quietly analyzed my answer. I waited for the inquisition that was sure to follow because me ordering a book of poetry was completely out of character and we all knew it.

Astrid rubbed my shoulder. "You know you don't have to try to be something you're not. You don't have to change just because Chase is an asshat."

Placing the book on the counter, I turned to face her. "I appreciate that. It's nothing to do with Chase, though. It's for me and me alone, something I'm doing for myself."

She smiled at me. "Good. Because fuck men."

"Yeah, fuck men," Annalise didn't hesitate to say. "Every last one of them."

"With the exception of Dad," Astrid added. "And Grandpa, may he rest in peace."

The Stratton sisters didn't exactly have the best track record with men. I'd been the lone standout with my engagement, Annalise too focused on her career and Astrid hating all males since middle school.

---