total asshole. I also realized I had already started to forgive Adam and that my anger had been replaced by something else. Something so much stronger.
And I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.
Whitney gave me a bland look. “You’re going to the hospital to check on Adam’s neighbor?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “Sweetheart, I work on movie sets for a living. I know a line when I hear one.”
I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. Admittedly things were better with Whitney, but there was still a barrier between us that only time would erase. I still became easily annoyed by most things she said. Mostly because it had become my defacto reaction to her over the past few years. But like with Adam, I was learning to let go of my anger toward my sister. I had lost too many people due to my stubborn pride, and it was time to put that evil bitch in check.
“It’s not a line. That’s where I’m going.” I tried really hard not to sound defensive. But I’m sure that’s exactly how I sounded.
Whitney turned on the coffee maker and got down a mug. She raised her eyebrows, indicating the coffee, and I shook my head. “Right, because you’re going to the ‘hospital.’” I couldn’t help bristling at the implied air quotes.
I slung my bag over my shoulder and leveled her a look that she knew exactly how to interpret. It was my patented “don’t-fuck-with-me” look that many Southport residents knew to heed with caution.
My sister gave no shits about my don’t-fuck-with-me look.
“I know you’re sleeping with Adam. Mom told me how you snuck him out of here at six in the morning. She says you’re never home at night anymore and that you’ve been decidedly less...repressed.”She poured her coffee, adding four spoonfuls of sugar, the sight of which made my teeth ache.
“Repressed? Mom said I was repressed? Somehow I don’t think those are Mom’s words.” I bared my teeth in a facsimile of a smile.
Whitney took a long sip of coffee and shrugged. “Okay, I may have exaggerated, but you can’t deny that a good ol’ bang fest with the love of your life has changed your attitude for the better.”
I sputtered, nearly choking. “He’s not the love of my life,” I argued lamely.
Whitney lifted her eyebrows again but didn’t say anything. She let me marinate on that one myself.
“Anyway, I have to run into town to do some errands for Mom later. Shall I swing by Adam’s office and pick you up for lunch? Is that burger joint on Maple still open?” Whitney asked, deftly veering us away from the topic of who I was sleeping with, even if it now hung in the air with all the power of something unresolved.
Love of my life.Love of my life? Of course, he was the love of my life.
So what was I going to do about that?
The childhood desire to run far away from my hometown still burned bright, but now it felt more like something I ought to feel rather than actually felt. But could I really see myself staying in Southport? That was the question. What was here for me?
“Your life is here. With me.”
I knew what Adam was offering. I knew what he wanted from me. I just didn’t know if I could give it to him; if I could let go of the feeling that I was failing at life if I lived here in this small town I had sworn I’d leave behind me.
Mom had finally agreed to let Whitney buy the house. In a complete surprise move, she had barely argued about it when we sat her down to discuss it. The prospect of finishing her days in the house my dad had purchased for them to live in together was greater than her silly pride.
It seemed all the Galloway women were learning to let go of things that only hurt them.
But now that was settled, I felt like an extraneous arm hanging around with no real purpose. Whitney had swooped in and saved the day, and now I was dangling in the wind. The only thing left for me to do was finish up the mural and head back to my pokey apartment in Brooklyn.
The siren song of the Big Apple was not nearly as strong as it used to be. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know who was responsible for that.