Chapter Three

Kendall

I tossed and turned all night, dreaming about the hot dogs from Mo’s pushcart on the corner of Fifth and East 62nd Street. The Hawaiian dog is my favorite. Honey mustard, Canadian bacon, pineapple, and jalapeno relish. I’ve been known to eat two, which really annoys my best friend, Brit, because she can’t figure out where I put all the food I consume. Hot dogs alone wouldn’t have kept me up, though. I dreamed about Vaughn eating one, too. In nothing but his Calvin Klein briefs. In my defense, it’s all he’s wearing in Times Square. I may have slipped off the crowded sidewalk, twisting my ankle, the first time I laid eyes on the ad. Brit did a full-on face-plant, her four inch heels no match for jumbo sexiness.

I stare at my bedroom ceiling a minute longer, then kick off the bedsheets and use the bathroom. The girl in the mirror staring back has tired eyes. Her hair is a wavy mess. I tie it into a ponytail, brush my teeth, and wash my face with cold water. “Let’s see if he’s still here,” I tell my slightly more presentable reflection.

Nervous tingles invade my body as I head downstairs. Half of me hopes Vaughn is already gone—it is after ten—but the other half hopes he isn’t. Normally, I don’t think in halves, but Vaughn is…confusing. I don’t know how else to label the knot of anxiety and interest in my stomach. I’m worried that if he has this kind of effect on me when he’s drunk, what is seeing him up close when he’s sober going to do to me?

Doesn’t matter.

I pause midway to the family room to gather my wits and strengthen my walls. I’m an expert at letting people see only what I want them to see. Brit knows all my secrets, but that’s because Miss Psych Major is relentless. When talk of boyfriends came up our first week as roommates at NYU, I managed to give vague answers for only a few days. She wanted to connect with me, and despite being away from home and everyone who knew my story, I found myself letting her in.

So, she understood when I kept my nose in my books, because my grades mattered to me and they were something I could control. Focusing on school kept my mind off boys and kept my reputation sterling. I had fun and socialized, but mostly I stayed the course academically. I graduated with a 4.0 and scored a 170 on the LSAT. The plan is for me to go to law school and follow in my father’s footsteps. That I’m not in love with the plan is a complication I’m trying to figure out. As soon as possible.

Sounds in the kitchen get my feet moving again. Vaughn is awake and probably searching for his keys. I’ve had some time to think about what to say to him this morning, so I round the corner with purpose.

And trip over my own feet.

Vaughn isn’t in the kitchen. My half sister is. “Dixie?” Holy shit. Maybe I’m still dreaming. I blink her away, but she’s still there. The typical mashup of dread and possibility fills my empty stomach.

She lifts her head from buttering a piece of toast and looks at me like I’m something that crawled out of a drainpipe. “Hello, princess.”

Her hollow greeting guts me. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in a while and, foolish me, I always think time will bring a level of acceptance to our relationship. I swallow the disappointment, because a show of vulnerability only rewards Dixie’s habit of sharpening her claws on me. “What are you doing here?”

Dixie puts the knife down with a loud clank. “Three guesses, princess.”

“Please don’t call me that.” It’s an old nickname, and it brings back bad memories of summers spent hosting my half sisters. Forced interaction with two sullen girls with features similar to my own and absolutely nothing else in common. Dad cheated on Amber’s mom with Dixie’s mom, and then married neither. He was having a little problem with alcohol at the time. Three months into recovery he met my mom, and that relationship stuck. My half sisters collected child support and summers with Dad, and resented me because I had the “real” family complete with two parents, a dog, and a pink canopy bed.

Dixie just smirks. “If the glass slipper fits…”

It’s been only sixty seconds and I’ve had enough. I point to my bare feet. “I don’t see any glass slipper, do you? I do see my size sevens, and one of them is going to leave an imprint on your backside if you don’t tell me what you’re doing here.”

She shrugs and takes a bite of her toast, chewing slowly while I wait. Finally, she washes it down with a sip of coffee. “What do you think I’m doing here? Aunt Sally asked me to house-sit.”

“Impossible. She asked me to house-sit.”

A staring contest ensues. There’s no mistaking we’re related if you look at our eyes. We both have our father’s baby blues. A characteristic Dixie hates.

I know I’m not wrong about Aunt Sally inviting me here. She said she wanted me to have the summer to decompress and weigh my options before I start school in the fall.

My stomach cramps. My aunt is the only person I’ve told I don’t want to go to law school. She offered me time to be by myself and think about a back-up plan, and, since I hate the idea of going home, I jumped at her suggestion. I don’t know if I have the courage to change course and disappoint my dad, but I am sure doing something my heart isn’t in will only make me a bigger mess. I stand to lose more than three years of my life to a law degree. I stand to lose my happiness, something I’ve finally come to believe I deserve after fulfilling my punishment for my drunken teenage offense.

Dixie lifts her phone to her ear.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Calling Aunt Sally. She’ll tell you I’m staying here.”

Meaning staying together is out of the question. I plop down on a barstool at the breakfast bar. Dixie hates me. She hates that our father never thought of her mother as anything more than a few quick fucks—her words not mine—and then he married my mom, and they had me. They’ve been married for twenty-three years. They haven’t all been easy. My parents have had their ups and downs, but he loves my mom. Loves me.

“No answer,” Dixie says, putting the phone down.

Our aunt and uncle are on a cruise, so I’m not surprised. And now that I’m looking at my sister, I’m not all that shocked to see her. My aunt has always been the glue to keep my sisters and me in touch.

“It’s good to see you,” I say, hoping to cut through some of the strain between us. I understand Dixie’s animosity. She’s led a very different life than me. But I’m not to blame for my dad’s indiscretions.

“How long have you been here?” she asks.

“I got in last night.” Vaughn! “Umm…I’ll be right back.” I hurry into the family room, only to find he’s gone. Disappointment drags my shoulders down. Which is unsettling. Guys don’t disappoint me.

Dixie grins slyly when I walk back into the kitchen and shakes her head. “Only you would leave that on the couch and expect it to still be there in the morning.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He left.”

Heat converges on the back of my neck as I sit back down. “You saw Vaughn?”

“Saw, lusted over, flirted with.”

He flirted with her? Of course he did. Dixie, with her long legs, confidence, and devil-may-care attitude might as well have “Give me your best shot, Stud” tattooed on her forehead.

“What? You didn’t flirt with him?” She squints at me. “Of course you didn’t. So what gives?”

I bite the inside of my cheek before answering, “Nothing.” Heart in my throat, the last thing I’m going to do this morning is discuss anything personal with her.

“Okay,” she says easily. She wipes the corners of her mouth with her fingers, her toast finished. At the sound of Snowflake’s barks and the front door closing, we both turn in the direction of the foyer. Snow’s tough-girl woofs nearly drown out the soft voice trying to calm her. The pitch grows even louder as I picture Snow herding the new arrival toward the kitchen. Given the circumstance I’ve found myself in this morning, there’s only one person it could be.

“Ack!” my other half sister, Amber, shouts when she finds Dixie and me. She releases the handle on her suitcase, her hand flying to her chest. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Hi,” I say.

“Fucking hell, Aunt Sally,” Dixie mutters under her breath.

Snow, seeing the three of us in strained but quiet compliance, turns on her paws and leaves us alone.

Amber is my dad’s oldest daughter by a few months. Growing up, she and Dixie sometimes ganged up on me, but it wasn’t because of any camaraderie. They did it because I had Dad all the time and they didn’t. Like it was my fault he fell in love with my mom and not theirs. I tried to play peacemaker up until they turned eighteen. After that they visited for only a week here or there and usually separately. Looking at them both now, I understand why they’d harbor ill feelings toward me, but how dumb of them not to love and support each other.

“Surprise,” I add. “Looks like you got a plane ticket and house key in the mail, too.”

Amber closes her eyes, takes a deep breath. She focuses her blue gaze on me when she says, “You guys are here to house-sit for the summer?”

I nod. “Apparently Aunt Sally wanted us all together again.” It’s been years since the three of us have been under this roof at the same time. We didn’t talk much to one another that summer. I remember lots of glares and sighs of dislike. Even so, I’d been grateful for the distraction. I didn’t want to be home in Wisconsin between my freshman and sophomore years at college.

Amber toes the side of her bag. “No offense, but this really isn’t what I signed up for.”

“You could turn right around and go home,” Dixie suggests.

“Or you could.” Amber snaps back.

“Can’t.”

“Me either.”

Why can’t they? I swallow my curiosity, knowing they won’t appreciate it. Dixie especially. Amber’s gotten a little more pleasant as we’ve grown older, so maybe I’ll question her when we’re alone. I study her now. If you ask me, even angry and disheveled, she’s the prettiest of us. She’s got our dad’s light hair, too, but her mom is a redhead, so it’s a beautiful shade of strawberry-blond, and her eyes are a deeper blue than Dixie’s and mine. But she’s thinner than the last time I saw her, and paler, too. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she says, sounding defensive. Or maybe I am, but I hear a silent Why wouldn’t I be? in her reply. Then she takes a seat next to me as if staking her own claim to the place.

Silent tension fills the room. It’s so thick it’s a miracle the three of us are still breathing.

The three of us.

My aunt obviously gathered us here for a reason. She’s always wanted us to be close, but we’re adults now, and that decision isn’t hers to make. I’ve wished it to be. God, after the accident, I wished for it so hard. But I finally accepted it’s one of those things that will always stay just out of reach.

Dixie starts opening cupboards. “The three of us under one roof for the summer. Holy shit, I need a drink. Where’s the liquor cabinet?”

“I don’t think there is one.” My stomach churns at the idea of her drinking this early, but she can do what she wants.

“Jackpot!” She holds up a bottle of vodka like a trophy. “Sally loves a Bloody Mary with brunch, so”—she opens the fridge—“Hallelujah, there is a God. I’ve got all the ingredients I need.”

Amber and I silently watch her mix the cocktail. She moves efficiently, like she’s done this a thousand times. She has. “Are you still bartending?” I ask.

“I quit to come here.”

“Meaning…” Amber trails off.

“Meaning I need to find a J-O-B while I pursue my music career. Aunt Sally said I could stay as long as I need to.”

“That’s great,” I say. Music has been a dream of Dixie’s for a long time.

She pushes a drink in front of me. “No thanks.” She slides it sideways to Amber. “I’m going to pass, too,” Amber says.

“Suit yourselves.” Dixie lifts the glass in a solo cheers gesture. She guzzles about half of it, closes her eyes in appreciation, and then opens them and takes us in again. “Okay. That helps. So, what’s your deal?”

Amber and I glance at each other. I guess we are going to get things out in the open. “Go ahead,” I say. Five minutes in their company isn’t enough of a foundation for me to spill my deal. I’m here because Aunt Sally offered me an escape. From a past I still often struggle with, a future I can’t pull into any kind of focus, and a dad who firmly believes a law degree is what I need to make me happy.

“Nothing to say, really. I’m on summer break,” Amber replies. “I start my master’s program at UCLA in the fall, but I can’t move into on-campus housing until September.”

“You’re getting your masters?” Dixie asks with surprise and resentment. She couldn’t afford to stay in college. Our dad offered to help, but she refuses to accept anything from him.

“Yes. Speech therapy.”

Dixie doesn’t bother with an additional comment, instead turning her attention to me. “And is perfect princess Kendall still heading to law school to be just like her daddy?” She couldn’t sound any colder or look any more hateful if she tried.

“I’m not perfect.” Far, far from it, but she’s never seen past my childhood. Past the time and affection I’ve received from our father. That none of it was my call doesn’t compute with her, which makes it difficult to be close, even if she wanted to be.

“No? You’re the one who grew up with a pink room and a mom and dad who attended all your plays and debate team competitions and watched you blow out your birthday candles and took you on vacations with them.”

And there it is. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

Dixie shrugs one shoulder before downing the rest of her drink.

“Seriously. We’re adults now. Don’t you think it’s time to let that stuff go? I can’t change it. You can’t change it. Move on already.” My words repeat themselves in my head. I should take my own advice. I’m trying to. “I’d like us to be friends.”

“Of course you would,” Dixie fires back.

“What does that mean?”

“You hate the idea of me not liking you.”

“So that’s why you don’t?”

“Partly. By the way. Winnie the Pooh? Really? You want to be treated like an adult, you might try dressing like one.” She steps to the fridge and pulls out a carton of orange juice. “Here,” she says to Amber, “drink this. You look like you’re about to pass out, and I can deal with only one of you at a time.”

Amber takes the carton and drinks right out of it. “Thanks.”

My stomach growls, so I jump to my feet. “How about I make us some breakfast?”

“I’m good,” Dixie says at the same time Amber says, “I could eat.”

“Do you like frittatas?” I ask Amber, ignoring Dixie. Aunt Sally’s housekeeper stocked the house with groceries yesterday, and I scoped out the goods last night.

“Sure.”

Before I grab a pan, I discreetly open the drawer with Vaughn’s keys inside. Now that I’m over the shock of seeing my sisters, my mind skips back to him. I wonder what he’s doing right now. He’s not in his car, since the key is right where I left it, which means we have unfinished business.

Dixie’s phone rings as she takes a seat on the stool I vacated, the interruption saving me from a quick mental pic of my hot next-door neighbor. She notes the caller ID and picks it up. “Hello, Aunt Sally,” she says cheerfully.

I stop what I’m doing and give my full attention to my sisters.

“I’m good… Yes, we’re all here. Very sneaky of you arranging this… Both Kendall and Amber look fine… I look fine, too… We’ll try…”

“Put it on speaker,” I say.

Dixie waves off my request. No doubt to annoy me. Whatever. I’ll text my aunt later.

“I promise we won’t kill one another… And be nice to one another… And yes I’ll tell them.” She pauses. “Okay, sounds good… Talk to you soon. We love you, too.”

That’s the one solid thing my sisters and I do have in common. We wholeheartedly love our aunt. She’s our dad’s younger, bighearted sister. The two of them aren’t super close, but for as long as I can remember she’s taken a fierce interest in us girls, maybe because she and Uncle Jack don’t have kids of their own.

“What did she say?” I ask.

“She said she’s sorry for luring us here under the pretense that we’d each have the house to ourselves, but that she thinks it’s past time we get over our shit and act like sisters rather than strangers.”

“She did not say shit,” Amber says.

Dixie rolls her eyes. “That’s the gist.”

“Think we can do it?” I ask. Maybe, just maybe, my sisters can help me move forward for good. Brit’s tried. My mom. My therapist. Dr. Sutton says the only person holding me back is me. But love, guilt, and loyalty form a powerful glue, which is why my heart’s still stuck to someone who can’t give his back.