Conflict of Interest - By Allyson Lindt Page 0,61

don’t work, and yes, the ‘work thing’ sucks.”

The corner of Riley’s mouth pulled up. “So you can say more than just ‘go away.’”

Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll tell you what’s wrong. The day you moved in, I approached some guy in a coffee shop that I’d seen almost every weekend but never dared talk to before. And then I continued the cycle of doing things I never do.” Her throat constricted as she spit out the words, the memories stinging her eyes.

“And my life has been out of control ever since.” Her voice cracked, and she bit back a sob. She hated him for that. Or herself. Or someone. For the way he’d made her feel, for the mistakes she’d made because of it, for not being able to forget it regardless of how badly it had screwed everything up.

Riley reached down and brushed a strand of hair off Kenzie’s forehead. Her voice was soft, sympathetic. “Has it really been that bad? I had no idea, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, no, I don’t know.” Kenzie forced herself to sit up, focusing on not crying.

“So you two aren’t a thing after all?” Riley plucked at a loose thread on the comforter. “Because he’s really hot.”

“No.” Kenzie hated the taste of the word. “We’re not.”

“Why not?”

Sometimes she hated how childlike her sister was. Irritation flooded her. “Because it’s not appropriate. Why do you even have to ask?”

“Don’t snap at me.” Riley’s playful expression vanished, replaced by pursed lips. “I’m tired of you acting like you’ve got a stick up your ass just because I have a different perspective on the world than you. You stash your entire salary in savings—an amazingly admirable thing to do—so you can retire young, but still insist on keeping it a secret, subsisting off Ramen and your expense account so everyone thinks you’re well-off.” She splayed out her fingers as she ticked off list points.

“And now you’re keeping your distance from a guy you didn’t take your eyes off the entire evening—who never took his eyes off you—at that party thing of his, because why? Because it’s not appropriate? Because he’s not as polished as you like your guys? He sure cleaned up well. Maybe you’re afraid you can’t get him to sustain that.”

Kenzie felt more ill as every thought she’d had about Scott spilled from her sister’s lips.

Riley looked at her, mouth twisted in disbelief. “Do you do anything because you want to and not because someone else told you it was appropriate?”

Kenzie pulled her blanket over her head, not wanting to see the accusation reflected at her. It was worse than looking in a mirror. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” Riley said.

“Just forget it.” It wasn’t worth the effort. “Get out.”

“Fine.” The mattress shifted again as Riley got up. “One more thing first?”

The change in her sister’s tone penetrated Kenzie’s haze of self-pity. She sat, curious gaze locked on Riley. “I’m listening.”

Riley stared back from the doorway, hesitation shining in her eyes. She took a deep breath. “No one knows this, so please don’t tell.”

Kenzie’s curiosity grew. “I promise.”

Riley fiddled with her fingers, running her thumb over each nail in order and then repeating the nervous gesture. “I left Archer, not the other way around.”

Kenzie’s eyes grew wide. She wasn’t sure why she was hearing the confession now, but even more she wondered, “Why didn’t you tell me? What happened?”

Riley gave a short laugh. “He proposed.”

“Wait, what?”

Riley shuffled her weight from one foot to the other, watching the carpet. “He proposed, I freaked out and left. I didn’t tell anyone because you all already think I’m this flake who can’t even keep a boyfriend, and this only proves it.”

Kenzie opened her mouth to offer some kind of denial and reassurance.

“I didn’t know why I told him no at the time.” Riley cut her off. “He’s nice enough, he’s kind—all the adjectives a guy should have. But…” She blew a strand of blonde off her forehead.

“Then I saw you and Scott at that investor dinner. The way his eyes never quite left you, the respect in his voice when he talked to you, the fact that you’re exactly the same way with him. Archer and I never had that. We might have some day, but seriously, I don’t think any of my friends—married, attached, whatever—look at each other with the kind of adoration he directed at you. And you’d sacrifice that because of some self-declared, impossibly immovable definition of what is and isn’t appropriate?”

A