"Cop out," Isabel said.
I glared at her. Claire sighed.
"Did you ask Logan?" Lia asked.
"Why does he get an opinion?" Isabel shot back. “Brooke is our burden to bear, not his.”
Claire straightened on the couch. "You know, your anger on this particular subject gets really fricken annoying after a while."
I held up my hands. "Knock it off, you two."
"Logan is the head of this family," Lia said. “That’s why he gets an opinion."
I rubbed my temples, where the beginning of a headache was starting to bloom. To think, I could have been wandering around a big, beautiful house and helping Noah spend all his money on it. But no, I chose my sisters because family came first.
Around me, the noise increased from all three of them. Lia and Claire joined forces, which they always did, and Isabel squared off in the doorway to the family room, not intimidated in the slightest by the two-against-one odds, like always.
No one even noticed that I sat there, eyes closed and wishing I was anywhere else. I didn't want to talk about Brooke. I didn't want to listen to my sisters argue about which woman had the greater impact in our life and why Claire's paper somehow changed the definition of that role.
"You guys," I interrupted. "Could you stop, please?"
No one listened. Lia had stood from the couch. "You know, I’m so sick of you acting like you carry around some different wound than the rest of us. Brooke left all of us, Iz. Just because you haven’t worked through your own shit doesn’t mean your opinion counts more."
Claire rubbed her forehead. "Let's just drop it. I have a couple of weeks to make the decision."
They ignored her too. The two hotheads went at it, and I gave Claire a commiserating smile.
"I don’t think my opinion counts more," Iz yelled. "I'm pissed that that woman is somehow getting credit for the way we turned out. It had nothing to do with her."
"Ohhhh yes," Lia drawled. "Look at you. You're the picture of someone who's unaffected by your childhood."
"Hey," I snapped at her. "Watch it."
Her face pinked, but she didn't move her flinty gaze from Isabel.
My phone buzzed, and I sighed heavily before flipping the screen to face me.
Noah: My savings account just took a pretty massive hit thanks to you.
The tone of his text, the fact that he texted me at all, pulled a smile onto my face. I missed him, which made no sense. I could talk to him, be friendly with him, and it wouldn't be fraternization, right? In my wine and family drama haze, I shifted through my mental checklist of why I'd decided to pull back from him all week.
Maaaaybe because when I was around him, my entire body tugged in his direction like he was pulling on a string. The only way I felt like I could combat it was to snip the cord clean through.
But that hadn't really worked either.
All week I was forced to watch him, and think about him, and wonder what he was doing when we weren't filming. All week, I struggled with the feeling that he noticed my distance, and that it bothered him.
My fingers flew across the screen before I could talk myself out of it.
Me: You got the house?! I KNEW it was perfect for you.
Noah: It was. I'm glad you sent it to me.
Noah: There's one problem, though …
Me: What?
Noah: The yoga mats that came with it are too small for me. Either that or I'm less flexible than I realized and need massive amounts of help.
He attached a picture that had me laughing out loud. Marty must have snapped it, which had me smiling so big it threatened to split my skin open. Noah was attempting a downward dog, but his feet were a solid foot past the end of the bright pink mat. His form was terrible, and I couldn't see his face, but it was, hands down, my new favorite picture of all time.
Me: Oh boy. Yeah, you're in trouble.
Noah: Will you come help me? I think Marty misses you.
My face flushed warm and happy and pink, and my chest expanded on a heavy inhale.
Me: Does he?
Noah: He said I was boring to film when I'm by myself. Just think of how embarrassing it will be when I do my first yoga session in my new house, and because I have no guidance, I fall and break my hip, which will put me on the bench for the rest of the season.
His next text included the address, and I clicked on the map. If I requested an Uber now, I could be there in twenty minutes. The desire to go was so strong, especially when I factored in the chaotic state of my living room.
Two angry sisters arguing about Brooke, or a football player who made my tummy flip upside down when he looked at me?