Page 2 of A Love Like Pumpkin Spice
At first, my brain refuses to process it. I mean, maybe I’m having a stroke, maybe I’m imagining things. It just … doesn’t make sense. I’ve been thrown into some cruel parallel universe where up is down. Where monsters wear my sister’s face, and I’m falling, like Alice, down the rabbit hole.
From the corner of my eye, I see Lauren rustling in her bag, and she takes out her phone. I shoot her a glare. What is she going to do, livestream my engagement going up in flames?
This time, it’s her turn to motion for me to shush as she pulls up her camera.
“You know I have to do this.” The lights dim briefly as Jay walks past the door and my heart races, the fear of getting caught twisting my stomach.
Hold on—why the hell would I feel bad about getting caught?
“Once the papers are signed and the period for an annulment is over, I’ll divorce her, take half of her money, and we can be together. We talked about this, baby. I’m doing this for us.”
Every single word stabs at my heart like a knife, like I’m the final girl who didn’t run fast enough from the killer.
Of all the things … it’s about money? A cold wave washes over me, and I cover my mouth with my hand as tears form in my eyes.
“I hate having that skank between us.” I hear the sound of lips smacking against each other, and bile rises in my throat. Hell, the thought of having kissed the same man as my sister drains all the blood from my face; makes my hands tremble with a mix of disgust and the urge to break her nose.
“Me too, babe. But I’ll make sure she sets us up for life. We’re going to take all the vacations we talked about—on her dime. Just imagine, the two of us on a beach in Hawaii, cocktail in hand, laughing at her miserable life.” Lauren reaches for my hand and gives me a reassuring squeeze, watching me from the corner of her eye, probably afraid I’m about to have a panic attack right here. It wouldn’t be an unfounded worry.
“You better. I need to cut that shrew out.” My sister takes a deep breath. “For twenty-eight years, I’ve been dreaming of the day she’d disappear. I can’t believe it’s almost here.” They giggle. I force myself to take calm breaths. “All thanks to you.It’s laughable how you have her wrapped around your little finger.”
“Right?” His chuckle makes the hair on my neck stand up. “It was almost too easy to convince her to skip the prenup.”
“She’s not the brightest tool in the shed. It’s embarrassing to be related to her, honestly. Give her a crumb of attention, and that’s all it takes to have her trotting after you like a lost puppy, minus the charm.”
I inhale sharply. She’s not entirely wrong.
She always outshone me. My childhood was the Marissa Show, and I was the underpaid, emotionally neglected production assistant that was supposed to be happy about being allowed to be there at all. Even on my birthdays, she managed to walk away with more presents than I did.
“It wouldn’t be fair otherwise,” my mom used to say. You know, because celebrating my birth was apparently a scandal itself already.
For the longest time, I hoped I was adopted. Hell, I’d have been fine with being an affair baby. At least that meant there was a reason for them to hate me.
But nope. No hidden letters, no torrid backstory. Just pure, uncut resentment. Turns out, they just hate me for the crime of existing.
Marissa was the wanted child, while they acted as if I decided to show up out of nowhere without any input from them. If she got a D, it was the teacher’s fault. If I got a B, I lost Wi-Fi privileges for a week and had to “reevaluate my priorities.”
The older and more independent I got, the worse they became. I started acting at thirteen so I could get out; going from school straight to auditions, only involving my parents when I needed their signature once I got a job. They managed to make even that seem as though I’d asked them for a pony. Yet they were happy to take any money I made until I wasfinally old enough to open my own bank account and forge their signatures well enough.
“You should be thankful for having a roof over your head. Contributing is the least you could do.” They used to say whenever I complained, while Marissa spent the day lounging in front of the TV instead of going to her university classes or finding a job.
All I wanted was to move out. I dreamed of it for years, how I’d live my best life, all on my own. But there was always some reason to not do it. Birthdays, Christmas, Thanksgiving.
Like a complete idiot, I still wanted their love. Still bent myself into a thousand emotional origami shapes, hoping they’d notice me.
Now look where that got me.
“It’s pathetic.” Jay’s cruel chuckle pulls me back to my nightmare of a reality. “She’s super dumb. She believes every word I say.”
How fucking dare he?
I want to storm in, give him a piece of my mind, slap the smug smile off his face. But Lauren tightens her grip on my arm and turns me to face her.
“No,” she whispers harshly, and with that little word, I deflate like a balloon, slowly crumpling into myself.
“People like her are meant to be used. She’s always been a joke. Way too emotional and way too stingy with her money.” Marissa lets out a deep sigh. “Fucking annoying that she had her breakthrough when she was of age. My parents and I could have used that money a lot better than her.”
“Just be glad she didn’t spend it. Think of all the millions she’s saved up, for us,” Jay says, still laughing. “And I can’t wait to spoil you with it, baby.”
