Chapter 26 Rose
There’s a knock on the door. My first thought is that Easton forgot his key, but then I remember he’s in St. Louis until tomorrow. I open the door without checking the peephole.
“What do you want?” I say as soon as I open it.
Pearl saunters past me, and it makes me want to scratch her eyes out.
“This place is nice,” she comments.
“I’ll be sure to pass along your compliments. What do you want, Pearl?”
She’s in a tight pencil skirt and a blouse that looks handwoven. Beautiful, as always. Her long blonde hair falls in a perfect sheet down her back. She turns to face me.
“I came to apologize.”
My eye twitches. I stick my finger in my ear. “Huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not repeating myself.”
“Right,” I say, swinging the door shut and heading to the kitchen. I pour from the open bottle of wine I’ve had going since noon. “You’ve never once apologized to me. Not even when Dad tried to make you. And you still haven’t, technically. So?”
“I’m sorry.”
I choke mid-sip. Cough, then take a longer pull to clear my throat. “What?”
“Ugh, you’re the worst.” She rolls her eyes and lets herself into the kitchen, opening cupboards until she finds a glass. She pours herself a drink. “I feel bad about what happened in Georgia.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Why would I say that if I didn’t?”
I shrug and say the only thing that makes sense. “Logan won’t talk to you, so you think making up with me will help?”
“Logan and I talk plenty.”
Something sharp moves through my chest. Jealousy, quick and dirty.
Then—do I believe her? She’s lied about so many things, for so long. But why apologize if they’re already friends again? Unless—no. They can’t be together. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
“I’m not here because of Logan,” she says, oblivious to my spiral, sitting down as though I invited her. “I was pissed at you because you got him. You get everyone—”
“Excuse me? I get everyone?” I scoff.
She waves her hand. “Dad, Inês, Easton—”
“Pearl, what are you talking about?”
She grits her teeth. She looks like she’s been gearing up for this. The words are all ready, as if she had rehearsed this.
“Dad was so excited about you. I was too young to remember much, but I remember being jealous. Dad wanted you so badly. Because you were hers.”
“Whose?”
“Inês’s.”
I sink back in my chair.
“She was amazing. And I resented it. My mom was an asshole—honestly, probably better for everyone that she eventually just left me with Dad. One time, when I was nine, she handed me a glass of champagne to keep me busy while she partied on a yacht. I wandered around drunk, kept walking in on people fucking. Couldn’t find her anywhere.
She was in some cabin with a guy, doing blow off his cock.
Some other guy found me after that and brought me to his room...
” She pauses, her expression vacant as she gets lost in some horrible memory.
I didn’t know any of this. I feel sick. I want to ask her more questions, but don’t know how.
She continues, “Anyway. Then I’d come home and there was Inês.
Mother of the Year. Never missed a recital.
She went to your kindergarten graduation, chaperoned middle school dances.
PTA. She looked at you like you were a fucking fallen star. ”
I blink back a tear. Because that’s how I remember her, too.
“I was jealous of you from a very young age. And I hated you for it.” She downs the wine, then gets up. “I’m not here to apologize for everything I did.”
“Like fat-shaming me? Spreading rumors about me? Crushing my self-esteem, calling me stupid, lazy, ruining my—”
She holds up her hand like I’m taking up too much of her time. I almost laugh. “Yes, all of that. There’s too much to name, and it would sound insincere, anyway. I’m here to apologize for tanking your career. That was… out of line.”
“Out of line?”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say, or…”
I hold my hands up this time.
“Anyway,” she huffs, brushing her hair off her shoulder, “I’m trying to make amends. And for what it’s worth… Logan… he’s not okay.”
My heart clenches. Worry threatening to override my self-preservation.
“So, you have talked to him…”
She nods. I try not to let jealousy crowd my thoughts.
I have no right to feel jealous. He and I broke up.
Hell, we barely even began. “We’ve talked.
We’re making it work. The whole friends thing.
To be honest, it probably suits us better, anyway.
He wouldn’t have liked the real me, and I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was pretending to be nice all those years until I stopped.
In a way, that breakfast back in Georgia was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. ”
“You’re insane, dear sister.”
She smirks. “Maybe a little. In any case, I do love Logan, and I want what’s best for him. Apparently, that’s you. So I’m just here to… well, to say I’m sorry for what I did. I do feel bad about that, and you’d be surprised how little I feel bad about.”
No, I wouldn’t.
“But I’m also here to say that he’s not okay.
I mean it—I’ve never seen him like this.
It’s deeply unattractive.” She makes her way to the front door and pauses with her hand on the knob.
“I don’t know if we can be friends. I’m not sure I know how to do that.
But maybe we can be sisters. I can’t promise I won’t be a bitch—but I’ll try not to let it be because of our past. I’ll just let it come naturally. ”
I don’t even know what to say to that.
Before she leaves, she adds, “And for the record—the wine I spilled was actually an accident. I was furious with myself. If I’m going to pretend to be anything, clumsy isn’t it.” She shudders. And then she’s gone.