Sloane
Your sister is pregnant.
Four words shouldn’t have the power to nauseate me, but they did.
I reread the email for the dozenth time. Soon after I received it that afternoon, Xavier’s friends decided they’d had enough of the cove. They’d wanted to sail to another beach, but I’d convinced Xavier to drop me off at the resort first. Thankfully, he’d done so without comment.
Now here I was hours later, sitting in my bed and staring at the first piece of direct correspondence I’d had from my father since the day I walked out of his office and out of my family.
Of course he would break his years-long silence for Georgia. She was my full sister, but we’d never clicked the way I did with Pen.
And now, she was pregnant.
I’d known it would happen eventually, but I hadn’t expected it so soon.
The smoothie I’d forced down for dinner sloshed in my stomach as I read the rest of his message again.
In true George Kensington form (and yes, my sister was named after him), the message was stiffer than a freshly starched tuxedo at the Legacy Ball.
Sloane,
I’m writing to inform you that your sister is pregnant. Given the circumstances, it’s time you make amends and release your childish grudge against an incident that occurred years ago. Pettiness is not an attractive trait.
Regards, George Kensington III
I thought my indignation would’ve run out of fumes long ago, but it intensified with every reread.
It’s time you make amends and give up your childish grudge.
Childish grudge? Childish grudge?
The phone creaked from the force of my grip. Trust my father to still pin the blame on me instead of his favorite.
Part of me recognized the clichéd irony of my situation. Poor little rich girl wasn’t as loved as the golden child, the one who could smile and dance and charm anyone in the room. Georgia could cry like a normal human and act like the perfect socialite. She was the daughter my father had always wanted, and I was the disgrace.
If I were watching a movie starring me, I would scoff at myself, but this wasn’t a movie. It was my life, and as much as I pretended it didn’t bother me, my broken relationship with my family would always be a sore spot.
I tossed my phone on the bed and stood.
If I thought too hard about Georgia’s present life, I’d start thinking about the past, and if I thought about the past…
No. I wasn’t going there.
Determination hardened my nausea into steely resolve.
Fuck Georgia, fuck the past, and fuck my father’s attempts to guilt me into apologizing for things they’d done wrong. It would be a cold day in hell before I crawled back to them.
I was doing just fine without them, thank you very much.
Pressure built behind my eyes, but I set my jaw and ignored it as I rifled through the closet for something to wear.
Most evenings, I preferred a quiet night in with a book, wine, and movies.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I wanted company.
* * *