Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Callie just stares at me, and I can tell that she’s already digging through her memories. Remembering. But her loyalty to Melanie gets the better of her, and she shakes her head. “It’s not Mel who’s the issue here...”
“I beg to differ,” Kellan says.
“Kay just texted.” Bryan holds his phone up to show us the text thread. I can’t read it quickly enough before he puts the device back in his pocket.
“She didn’t go into any details, but she said that something here made her uncomfortable,” Bryan reports. “She’s on a plane going home at the moment, and she’ll text me when she arrives safely.”
I lower my head, taking a deep, shuddering breath. At least Makayla is okay. It doesn’t change the hurt we caused or the pain she left with. I’m going to have to live with that. My brothers and I are going to have to make peace with the role we played in her suffering. Makayla deserved better.
Bryan’s proposal is basically ruined. Melanie’s truth-twisting drove a wedge between us all.
I’m not sure how we’re going to keep working together, either. Everything seems uncertain right now, and I hate flying blind.
“I guess we should go pack our things,” I begin, hoping that someone will tell me that’s not necessary.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Bryan replies, reaching out to take Callie’s hand.
Whether or not they agree on the details of Melanie’s issue with us, the two of them are still a couple, partners in life and building something together. They have to maintain a united front, and I can’t really hold it against them, either. As a friend, I could never ask Bryan to enter a conflict with his loving girlfriend over something her sister did. The truth has a way of coming out eventually, anyway.
I gather my wounded pride and lead my brothers out of the room. We’ve lost Makayla and likely Bryan’s trust. It may be temporary, or it may leave deep wounds in the long term—both prove one thing, though: Melanie did a hell of a lot of damage.
There had better be repercussions.
28
MAKAYLA
Iblink back tears as I sink in the backseat of my ride to Stockholm, watching the snowy world flash by.
My phone keeps pinging—texts from Bryan. Those I answer. I don’t want my brother worrying, so I apologize for bolting and promise to explain once my head’s on straight. I ignore everything else—texts from Oscar, Alex, and Kellan.
I don’t want to talk to them. The betrayal feels catastrophic.
I’m sorry for not sticking around for the proposal, I text Bryan. Please, tell me you’re still proposing. That I didn’t ruin that, too…
Three dots. Don’t even worry about it. I’ll see you soon, he says.
It’s a long drive back to Stockholm. After a while, my tears dry up, and a cold determination takes their place. I don’t need the Anderson triplets. I’m better off on my own, and thank goodness I realized who they were before I got too deep. It’s almost like I’ve dodged a bullet. As long as I think about it that way, the pain is a little easier to bear.
After three layovers and too many hours in the air, I shuffle out of Arrivals bone-tired and ready to crawl home. But I need to talk to someone about what happened. Someone who’s been waiting for me to call back since before I flew to Sweden.
“Janet?” I ask as soon as her weary voice crackles through the line.
“Mac?” she answers, her voice a welcome balm. “Jesus, I haven’t heard from you in a decade. How are you?” she exaggerates.
“So much has happened,” I say. “Please tell me you’re free tonight.”
“Of course,” she answers. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’m at the airport,” I tell her. “Give me an hour and a half to go home and get changed. Then maybe we can meet at the Queen’s Bar?”
“It’s that kind of night, huh?” she teases.
“You have no idea,” I reply.
After a scalding shower, I slip into the first dress I grab and a pair of chunky heels, twist my hair into a messy knot, then hail a cab to Queen’s Bar to meet Janet.
She squeals when she spots me, and we hug for what feels like forever.
“Oh God, I needed this,” I murmur, soaking up Janet’s sunny energy. She’s always been a human battery—generous with affection and unfailingly bright, even when life on her side of the fence wasn’t rosy.
I’ve always tried to return the favor—that’s what best friends do, after all.
“I’ve been waiting forever,” she says, stepping back to smooth her bright orange crop top. Paired with bell-bottom jeans, Janet is a living flashback to the disco era.
“Sorry—it took me a minute to plant both feet on the ground,” I say with a rueful smile. “It’s been a hell of a week, Jan.”
A quick sweep of the room tells me it’s pre-club hour; patrons are downing rounds before heading to swanky—or, judging by some outfits, grungy-chic—clubs around the block. The music booms, and the sweet bite of seasonal cocktails hangs in the air, distracting every sense.