Page 37 of One More Made Up Love Song
At the back of the room, a set of French doors are open onto the patio, where a dozen or so people are stretched out in similar fashion. The air is thick with the smell of booze and weed, but based on the paraphernalia covering the tabletops, those aren’t the only drugs in play.
My eyes scan the patio, but I don’t see Carina anywhere.
I don’t see Margoteither, and I can’t decide if that makes me more or less comfortable.
But then laughter sounds from across the yard, and my heart rate spikes. I’d recognize my sister’s laugh anywhere.
I look across the sparkling pool to a gazebo nestled next to a row of orange trees and hurry in that direction.
It’s good that she’s laughing, right? Laughing is so muchbetter than passed out on a couch next to a bong or a discarded needle.
I see Margot before I see Carina. She’s in a black bikini, her blond hair piled on top of her head, a gauzy cover up draped over her shoulders. She looks flawless. Andentirelysober. Her eyes move up and down my person, her gaze calculating, but before she has time to say anything, a gasp sounds from the other side of the gazebo.
“Ivy?” Carina stands and runs toward me, throwing her arms around my neck. She reeks of alcohol, something that makes my heart pinch with pain, but she’s at least whole and alive. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I say. “I’ve been worried about you.”
Her head lolls forward and drops onto my shoulder. “Oop. I don’t feel so good,” she slurs.
I tighten my grip around Carina’s waist, and sweat breaks out across my forehead. She was a lot younger than I was when Daphne died. But she wasn’t too young to understand what killed her. To get that if not for Daphne’s idiot boyfriend having too much to drink, our sister would still be alive.
We’ve had the conversation a thousand times. Mom whispered her pleas like prayers before we went to bed every night. That we would be safe. Leave alcohol alone. Make smart choices because we were still alive to make them when Daphne wasn’t.
I’ve never been able to touch the stuff. Mom’s words are etched into my heart as deeply as the image of the ambulance pulling away with my sister inside.
I thought Carina felt the same way.
But I guess I was wrong.
“I’ve been trying to call you,” I say, repositioning us both so I can hold her up without toppling over.
“I know!” Carina says. “My phone is broken. But I texted from my watch. I told you not to worry.” She holds up a wobbly finger and points it at Margot. “It’s all good. Margot’s getting me a new phone. Isn’t that nice? She’s so nice.”
I look at Margot, eyebrows raised, but she only shrugs.
Something in her expression makes me think she has exactly zero intention of getting Carina a new phone. She has the money—she could probably make one phone call and have a dozen iPhones on the doorstep in a matter of hours—so if she hasn’t already, she probably won’t.
“That’s nice of her,” I say to Carina, not breaking eye contact with Margot. “But I’m happy to get you a new phone. We can go get one right now, actually. Then you can spend a couple of days with me in LA.”
Carina’s head pops up, her eyes wide and glassy. “Really? You’re in LA?”
I nod. “I’d love to see you and hang out for a bit.”
“But you’re on tour with Freddie,” Carina says.
My eyes dart to Margot, who is still watching us, her gaze cool.
“Not right now,” I say, trusting Carina will forgive the lie as soon as she understands what’s at stake. “I just came here hoping to spend a little time with you.”
Luckily, Carina sighs and smiles. “You’re such a good sister.”
“You should just stay here,” Margot says from behind us. “The house is huge. Plenty of bedrooms are still empty.”
“You should!” Carina says, giving me a little shake. “The beach is right there! We would have so much fun.” She spins and points toward the ocean, just visible through a line ofpalm trees at the edge of the property, but the gesture throws off her balance just enough that I have to reach out to keep her from falling over.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. “I already have a nice place. And I think a little sister time would be good for us.” I tug her toward the house. “Want to help me get your stuff?”
It takes alongtime to gather Carina’s stuff. Mostly because she’s only half-present, her mind focused one minute, then completely vacant the next. She’s clearly been drinking, but I’m not sure that’s the only thing in her system. She seems too agitated, too manic. Not that I would know. I’ve never been around Carina when she’s drinking. Maybe this is just how she is.
