Page 27 of I'm Not Done with You Yet

I manage a dazed nod, which pleases her.You fucking self-centered cunt, I want to spit out.I’m not impressed by your “influencer” status, I’m fucking shocked because for some reason, Thalia has decided to stay in touch with you, you parasitic brat, and not me. I could sob with the unfairness of it all. I’d thought that Thalia had chosen me over Ani in Oxford, but maybe I was wrong all along.

“So you’ve kept in touch with Thalia all this time?” I say. I can barely speak above a whisper.

“Hmm?” Ani is momentarily distracted by someone giving out free books; she takes two copies and hands one to me before dropping her copy in her tote bag. “Thalia? Right, yeah, of course.”

Why of course? I don’t even realize that I’ve asked it out loud until Ani gives me a strange look and says, “I thought you knew. Thalia’s my sister-in-law.”

14

Nine Years Ago

Oxford, England

It’s interesting, seeing the ways in which certain people react to each other, like acid and alkaline being poured into a single container, seeing which one prevails. When Ani said that her brother was coming for a visit, something in her tone of voice made me glance up and really look at her. I try not to do that; Ani’s face isn’t good for sanity. Too pretty in a man-made way, everything about her deliberately put together. A manufactured doll wearing a permanent sneer. If I looked at it too long, something inside me would crack and I would swipe a knife at it, just to see if she could even bleed or if there were just ice and silicone underneath.

But her voice is more bitter than usual, a half-hidden quaver underneath it, as she says, “So my brother’s coming for a whole month. He’ll be staying in London for most of that time, but he’s insisted on spending a week in Oxford. Yay me.”

“Oooh, we finally get to meet the famous Ivan,” Thalia says.It hurts that Thalia knows his name, whereas I’m only now learning about his very existence.

Ani sniffs. “The famous Ivan. Right.”

“Is he coming here just to see you? That’s so sweet,” Thalia says.

Ani’s mouth curls unpleasantly for a second before it goes slack again. “Of course not. He’s setting up a new office branch in London; that’s why he’ll be in England for a whole month. And in the meantime, he’ll stay for a while in Oxford to make sure I’m actually going to classes and not fucking up as usual. Perfect Ivan. Did you know our parents have left basically everything to him in their will? They told us both that he’s getting the company, like 99 percent of it, while I get Mom’s jewelry and Birkins and, oh, a shitty 1 percent. Fucking patriarchal bullshit.”

Poor you, I want to say. Having to make do with what is no doubt a fortune in diamonds and emeralds and branded bags. But I remain quiet, relishing the graceless way that Ani is griping. Even saintly Thalia is barely able to keep her annoyance concealed; a corner of Thalia’s cheek is twitching a little, which means she’s fighting to hold back her words. That’s how well I know you, Thalia.

“Well, it’s still nice of him to come and spend time with you,” Thalia says. Why does she try so hard to be nice to Ani?

“Whatever.” Ani slurps her coffee loudly, and that’s when I notice that her leg is jiggling relentlessly. And I realize that Ani, take-no-prisoners Ani, foulmouthed Ani, sexpot Ani, is nervous. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying it, just a little. It’s nice to see someone else being pushed into a corner for a change. I, for one, can’t wait for Ivan to arrive. The past few weeks haven’t thawed whatever weird thing is going on betweenme and Ani, and it would be a nice change to see her undone. To know that I’m not the only one fighting my own inner battle all the damn time.

A week later, Ivan arrives, and it’s A Whole Thing. There are rooms available for guests at Downing, but he’s booked a room at the Randolph instead, because according to Ani, “Prince Ivan is too good for a school dorm.” I think back to how enamored I had been with my dorm room when I first arrived, swooning over the fireplace, and inside, I burn and twitch and wonder if I’ll end up hating Ivan even more than his sister does.

Thalia, Ani, and I trudge through the biting English winter in turgid silence. Ani is too nervous and cranky to suffer any conversation, even between just me and Thalia. It’s actually nice; Ani’s snappish mood turns into an inside joke between me and Thalia. As we walk, Thalia and I sneak glances at each other, eyebrows raised in amusement, and god, I feel like I’m coming out of hibernation, like the sun’s finally come out. Here we are for the first time without the fug of Antoine hanging around like a cloud of body odor. I want to shout with laughter and dance in the cold.

The Randolph is one of the oldest buildings in Oxford, and one of the fanciest. It’s one of those places where the inside is decked out in old leather and rich mahogany and people automatically speak in hushed tones to show that they’re wealthy and powerful enough to never have to raise their voices to get what they want. Ani sighs loudly and makes a beeline for the hotel bar. Thalia and I exchange another look—our fourth!—and follow Ani.

She’s waving impatiently at the bartender. “I need wine.”

“Of course, ma’am. We have a large selection—”

“Dude. Just give me a bottle of—of—whatever, a Chablis.”

“Excellent choice. Which vintage would you prefer—”

“Oh my god!” Ani cries, throwing her hands up. “Just. Anything, okay? The most expensive one, whatever!”

Thalia gives the bartender a sheepish smile and opens her mouth, probably to apologize, but just then, a warm male voice behind me says, “Thirsty again, sis? Not much has changed, I see.”

Ani’s expression freezes, only her eyes showing a flash of horror and mortification for a fleeting second before her face melts into a simpering smile. She turns around and says, “Koko, I’m so happy you’re here!” She jumps off the barstool and throws her arms around Ivan.

The lighting in the bar is dim, but even so, I can see at a glance that Ivan is devastatingly handsome. Ani’s family’s got amazing genes. Tall, broad shouldered, a smile that’s almost as distracting as Thalia’s. His heavy-lidded eyes somehow work together with his sloped nose and a jaw that would give Antoine’s a run for its money, turning his face into one that speaks not just of strength, but of elegance. The kind of face that painters would cut off their ears over. His outfit is casual but obviously tailored to fit every inch of him flawlessly, showing off his swimmer’s shoulders and tennis player’s arms.

“Koko?” Thalia says, by way of greeting.

Ivan’s smile widens—is it possible for men to not smile when they see Thalia?—and he says, “It means ‘older brother’ in Indonesian. I swear my name isn’t actually Koko.”

Thalia giggles, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Because I know this laugh of hers. Ani does too. I catch the startled glance from Ani, displeasure writhing behind her eyes, both of us probably thinking the same thing:You’ve got Antoine, what are you doing?On my part, of course, I’m also mentally hissing:I’ve been worrying over how to get rid of Antoine, and nowI’ve got to worry about Ivan too?But isn’t that just classic Thalia? She can’t help being a flirt, can’t help exerting her superpower over everyone. I can’t blame her; we all want people to like us, and it’s not her fault that she’s everybody’s type.

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