How to Ruin a Wedding(89)

I left another letter for Valerie, explaining it was entirely my fault, my plan, and that Anders had nothing to do with it. (I gave Anders a heads-up in his letter, so he’d know he could throw all the blame my way and repair his relationship with his sister.) I told them I was sorry, and I wrote the same to Bethany and Olive, telling them they deserved better.

A coward’s way out—leaving it to Taina to put the letters in their mailbox. Proving Mathew’s point that I rely on her too much. But I’m so incredibly fragile that any conversation puts me at risk of spiraling.

That’s not why Taina has barely spoken to me all these days, though I pretend it is. I know it’s because she has so much she wants to say, she can’t process it all at once, at least not in the beginning. Now, she waits for an opening—one where she feels I won’t break.

And I’m not sure when that will ever happen again.

Instead of facing anything, I rock on a wooden chair overlooking the lake, surrounded by thick trees and untamed grass. The soft night wind sends ripples through the water, the setting sun dipping into the center of it.

There’s only one chair out here, on the dock at the foot of the cottage.

That’s probably why Taina—who catches my attention with the sound of wood scraping against concrete—is dragging a dining room chair. When she reaches the dock, the scratching sound eases.

She places the chair directly in front of me, blocking my peaceful view.

“We need to talk.”

“Okay.”

She narrows her eyes. With the glow of the sunset behind her, her hair uncharacteristically pinned into a bun, she looks so naturally beautiful it steals my breath.

“Don’t sound so defeatist already,” she says. “We’re talking, not arguing.”

“Then why is the vein at the side of your forehead making an appearance?”

Her eye twitches. “Maybe because my wonderful, agitating sister somehow still manages to be a smart-ass even while being depressed.”

“A truly useless talent.”

“You know I’m mad at you,” Taina says, getting straight to it. “I’ve never been angrier with you than I am now. You know that, right?”

My gaze drops to her bare feet as I nod.

“Good. So let’s skip to the point.” She grabs my ear, pinching until I lift my head to face her. “You should’ve told me as soon as Mathew approached you.” She shakes her head. “No—if he felt comfortable threatening you, he’s already spoken to you before. He’s already made you feel bad about yourself. You should’ve told me the second he so much as gave you a dirty look.”

“He’s not entirely wrong,” I say, hating to defend him—and hating that I mean it. “Recently, I’ve been ruining everything. And I’ve been a thorn in your marriage. He told me about the therapy. About your nightmares.”

Both her eyes twitch this time. “Those are things he never should’ve told you.”

“So you can keep secrets, but I can’t?”

“My secrets were to protect you.”

“So were mine!” I jump at the sound of my voice skyrocketing. I’ve been in this numb, leveled, faded calmness for days—just letting time pass without feeling too much. But now, heat and emotion rise to the surface too quickly to suppress; an unexpected tsunami after an earthquake.

“If someone hurt me, and I didn’t tell you,” Taina says, “you’d kill me.”

“Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? Hurting you? Should I fling myself into this lake?”

“Be serious, Lucy.”

“I am,” I say, my feet tingling. “I’m supposed to be the older sister. I’m supposed to take care of you. I shouldn’t be the reason for your stress or anxiety. I shouldn’t be a nuisance in your marriage. I should be able to take care of myself.”

“Lucy—” She tries to grab my hand, but I stand and rush to the edge of the dock.

“Lucy,” she repeats, standing beside me, gazing out at the water. “The only reason I can take care of myself is because of you. You think I don’t know everything you’ve sacrificed? You’re my sister—not my mom.”

I open my mouth, but she holds up a hand.

“You shouldn’t have had to work multiple jobs as a teenager. You should’ve been able to go to school without a single worry beyond picking out an outfit. Our parents should’ve taken out loans so you could go to college without having to do anything but study. They should’ve helped you find an apartment so you could get internships and find a job through them. They should’ve been around to tell you your exes were trash and forced you to break up. They should’ve called you over for family dinners and vacations with all the free time you should’ve had.”

She grabs my hand and makes me face her. The tears in her eyes tighten something in my chest like a frayed rope pulling taut.

“I got to do all that because of you. Your life should be vastly different. But you gave up everything to take care of me, and you never complained. I am who I am because of you. And I could never—will never—be happy if you feel like your presence in my life has been anything less than the best gift I’ve ever received. This world has been cruel to us both, but I can forgive it for one reason: It gave me you as my sister.”