Page 27 of Penelope in Retrograde

Martin’s face is so flushed it practically looks sunburned. He gestures toward the hallway and mouths something that is either I’m going downstairs or I’m running away before closing the door behind him.

“Nana, I’ll be right down,” I say.

“Whichever one you don’t want, I get first dibs. Over and out.”

The intercom goes silent.

I peel off the rest of my travel clothes and throw myself onto Phoebe’s bed next to Falon. Phoebe’s already in her closet looking for something suitable for me to wear. One of the benefits of being Phoebe’s twin is getting to take advantage of her impeccable taste and a much more expensive wardrobe than my own.

“Don’t get too cozy,” Phoebe shouts from her closet. “You’re going down there even if Martin’s not willing to join in your ridiculous charade.”

“But it’s so nice.” I bury my face into the soft comforter. “Just give me a pair of sweatpants and we’ll call it a day.”

“Can I ask why your ex-husband thinks you’re in a relationship with Martin?” Falon asks.

“Because she’s a liar.” Phoebe holds up a black turtleneck sweater dress. “What about this?”

“I’m not a liar,” I say, genuinely offended by the remark. “Phoebe, you have no idea what I had to deal with. I was trapped in a van with the last man who saw me naked before all my good parts started to go wonky. Also, that dress is giving me Diane Keaton vibes.”

She ignores me. “I think the dress is a yes. Falon?” Falon nods in agreement. “Put this on.”

“Are you just not going to acknowledge me?” I pull the dress over my head and shimmy it down my body. “That’s it?”

“I couldn’t ignore you if I tried, Penny, because you command the spotlight. No. Command is being too generous. You hog it.”

“I do not.”

“Really?” She rolls her eyes. “I tell you on the phone that Falon and I have big news to share, and you end up bringing your ex-husband over for cocktails and asking Martin to be your personal escort. You’ve completely stolen our thunder.”

“Hun.” Falon reaches for my sister’s hand. “You’re tired. It’s been a long day.” Falon turns to me. “She’s just hangry.”

“Don’t apologize for me, babe,” Phoebe says, pulling away. “I need to get this off my chest or it’s just going to build up all weekend.”

“Get what off your chest?” I laugh uneasily. “Are you seriously upset with me, Feeb?”

But I know the answer without her saying a word. The heaviness in her brows. The frustration in her eyes. The way her lips pull so tightly into a frown, they nearly lose all color. It’s the same face I make when I’ve finally had enough.

“This is our first holiday being engaged,” Phoebe says. “But all Mom and Dad care about is the fact that you’re finally coming home. Now, I know you can’t help that, and I was able to get past it, but then you got stuck in traffic.”

“That wasn’t my fault.”

She holds up her hand and shushes me. “I know that. I get it. That’s why I didn’t mind entertaining Martin. He’s actually a really nice guy. He’s new to the office so I don’t really know him, but what I know of him I like. He barely batted an eye when I downed an entire bottle of cabernet during Mom’s photo presentation of your life from birth until high school graduation.”

“Then what exactly have I done that has you upset with me?” I ask. “Because whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

“Now Smith’s staying over for drinks.”

“Again, not my fault.”

“I know.” She sighs. “But now you’re asking Martin to play along with one of your stories, and to be honest, it’s exhausting.”

“One of my stories?”

“Stories. Lies. Fictional retellings. Call it whatever you want. It’s what you do whenever you come back home. You turn into this one-woman show and everyone else becomes some minor character whose only purpose is to support you. You’ve been doing it your whole life.”

Normally, I would take being called a one-woman show as a compliment. But Phoebe doesn’t mean it in a Carol Burnett kind of way. It’s an insult.

Until this moment, I had no idea how deeply my sister’s words could cut through me. Straight past my skin, muscles, and bones and right into my very soul. The corners of my eyes prickle with the threat of tears, which I blink back immediately. I don’t cry, especially not here and now.

---