If We Were Perfect - Ana Huang Page 0,41
not a great idea for a Monday night.”
She smiled, relieved. “Probably not.”
Thank God he wasn’t pushing her to get drinks with him—or do anything else.
That was the downside of being a woman in a male-dominated industry—you had to be extra careful whenever you were alone with someone of the opposite sex. Olivia refused to let those fears dominate her, but she wasn’t an idiot. Her guard was always up, especially when she was with a male colleague outside the office—or even in the office. That went double if said male ranked above her in the firm’s strict hierarchy.
The tension dissipated from Olivia’s shoulders as she waved goodbye to Michael and hailed a cab back to Sammy’s house. It was dark when she arrived except for the light in the entryway; he must’ve realized she wasn’t home and kept it on for her.
Such a Sammy thing to do.
They hadn’t discussed their near-kiss over the weekend. While Aaron distracted Sammy at the barbecue, Olivia had fled inside the house and locked herself in the bathroom, where she’d spent half an hour debating how to handle her momentary lapse of judgment. The truth was, she hadn’t been that drunk. Tipsy, perhaps, but not enough that it would’ve impaired her logic. It had been something else that’d compelled her to drop her guard—something she didn’t care to examine. Apparently, neither did Sammy, because he’d acted like nothing had happened when she’d rejoined the party.
Which is for the best. No need to upset the delicate balance of their relationship, or whatever the hell they had.
Olivia was halfway to her room when her phone rang.
“Olivia.” Her sister’s cool voice—so similar to their mother’s—flowed over the line. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“No, I just got home. What’s up?” Olivia was not in the mood to talk to Alina, but she might as well get it over with.
“I’d like to confirm whether you’re attending my rehearsal dinner.”
Jesus Christ. If one more person mentioned the dinner, Olivia was going to scream. “Yes. I already told Mom I’m going.”
“She didn’t mention that when I saw her this morning.”
“Take that up with her, not me.”
“Olivia.” This time, Alina’s tone carried a gentle rebuke. “Mom is busy planning the wedding. Sometimes, things slip her mind. You should’ve sent a physical RSVP.”
“I did.” Olivia rubbed her temple. She could feel the beginnings of a headache coming on. “It probably hasn’t reached you yet. But I’m your sister. Of course I’ll be there.”
She and Alina might not be close, but they were family. When Olivia was younger, she’d hero-worshipped her sister. Three years her senior, Alina had excelled at everything she touched, and Olivia had wanted to be just like her—beautiful, perfect, doted on by their proud mother. They’d been best friends before it became clear that Eleanor’s love was limited and doled out based on which daughter she could brag about the most. Olivia and Alina’s relationship had gradually transformed into a competition with no winner, at least not on paper. Both had graduated summa cum laude from Ivy League schools—Alina from Harvard, Olivia from Yale. Both had been class valedictorian and student body president in high school. Both excelled in their chosen fields—anesthesiology for Alina, finance for Olivia.
But Olivia knew, deep down, that Alina was winning, because Alina always won. Perhaps it was because she was older and therefore always a few steps ahead, or perhaps it was because Eleanor had always favored her elder daughter.
At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Olivia was single and on her way to becoming an old maid in their mother’s eyes. Alina had been engaged to Richard at twenty-nine, but they’d waited for her to complete her residency before going through with the actual wedding. Alina had completed medical school and Olivia was only halfway through business school. But the kicker was, their mother fawned over Alina in a way she’d never done with Olivia, no matter how many A-pluses or promotions Olivia received.
It was what it was. Olivia had made her peace with it a long time ago.
“...coming to San Francisco,” Alina said.
Olivia blinked. She’d been so wrapped up in her thoughts she’d missed the first half of what her sister said. “What?”
Alina responded with the tiniest sigh. It was amazing how much weariness one could pack into a gust of breath. “Mom, Richard, and I are coming to San Francisco,” she repeated.
“Why? When?” The questions burst out with more horror than Olivia had intended, but if Alina was offended, she didn’t let