Page 69 of Beautiful Desire
Grittingmy teeth, I thumb out a response.
Me: Yeah, why?
Georgia: Oh, good! Grace is on her way over. She’s dropping off a tray of her strawberry lemon bars. *drool emoji* I’m supposed to be off already, but I’ll be here for another few hours, so don’t eat ’em all!
Annoyance flashes in my chest at how fucking blasé she is. It’s been a week since she put the goddamn expiration date on us, and she’s acting completely normal. I don’t get it, because even though I’ve done my best to put it out of my mind and enjoy the time wedohave, it’s still looming over my head like a dark storm cloud.
There’s no way she hasn’t noticed.
The doorbell sounds.That was fast.Groaning, I roll off the bed and pocket my phone, not bothering to respond to Georgia’sfriendlyfucking message. Unlocking the door, I pull it open, finding Grace standing on the porch, a sickly-sweet smile on her face as she holds up a tray wrapped in aluminum foil.
“Why do you look like that?”
Grace’s brows pinch together. “Like what?”
“Like a fucking Stepford wife. It’s creepy.” Taking the tray from her hands, I mutter a quick, “Thanks,” before walking away, assuming she’ll leave.
“That’s fucking rude,” she calls out after I hear the door close.
Guess not.
“I think you’ll live.” Setting the tray on the stove, I turn and press my ass against the edge of it, folding my arms over my chest as Grace waltzes into the kitchen.
Her face is scrunched up, like she just caught a whiff of fresh manure. “You’re in a mood today,” she drawls as she opens the fridge and grabs one of the spiked seltzers Georgia has in there that I’ve never seen her drink. “Want one?”
Apparently, she’s not leaving any time soon. Shrugging, I hold out my hand. “Sure, why not.”
“Come on, we can take these out back,” she says, strolling past me out of the kitchen. Then she adds, “Maybe a little sunshine will help your attitude.”
“Doubt it.” I snort, but follow her to the patio. Cracking open the can, I take a decent swig, then nearly choke to death. “What the fuck?”
“What?” Grace watches me with furrowed brows as she opens hers and takes a drink.
“This shit is nasty.” Wiping the dribble off my chin, I say, “It tastes like someone drank flavored Kool-Aid, then washed their mouth out with carbonated water, and spit it into the can.”
“Well, that was specific.” She laughs, setting her drink on the table. “So, what’s your problem?”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Oh, yes, you do,” she insists. Then her eyes widen, and a smile spreads up her face as she sits up, resting her elbows on her knees. “It’s Georgia, isn’t it?”
“No.”Lie.
“Bullshit, you’re a terrible liar.” Snapping her fingers at me, she says, “Spill. I wanna know.”
“Why do you care?” I ask, genuinely confused about why she’s even still here. “We don’t do this. We haveneverdone this, Grace. So, why do you care?”
“Because I love my sister, but I’m pretty sure she’s being a stubborn asshole.”
Arching a brow, I ask, “What has she told you?”
“Not enough.” Grace waves a hand in front of her. “I want to hear it from you.”
“Fine.” Heaving a sigh, I sit back in the chair and take another large swig of the disgusting static water. “A week ago, we had a conversation—actually, no.” I cut myself off. “It wasn’t aconversationat all. It was Georgiatellingme what was going to happen, when it was going to happen, and thentellingme it was what’s best forme. As if I have no say in the matter.”
“What was she telling you, though?”
“You really don’t already know this?”
