Been There Done That (Leffersbee #1) - Hope Ellis Page 0,63

I’d noticed my ends were a little frayed from neglect after the briefest glance in the mirror. I made a mental note to have my stylist reshape my growing cloud of hair.

One of these days.

“Thanks for the review.” My teeth locked in a grimace that wouldn’t pass for anyone’s version of a smile. I had a pretty good sense of humor and was self-deprecating to a fault. Of course I knew I looked like a disaster lately, and I didn’t begrudge her the honest, sisterly feedback. It wasn’t her comments that chafed as much as her superior tone. “How’s your day going?”

Tavia’s gaze drifted from the menu up to my face. “Damn. You’re making nervous small talk. What’s happened?”

The waiter, a young man nervously clutching an order pad, chose that moment to wander over.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Tavia spared him the barest glance before returning her stare to my face. “Not now, come back later.”

I suppressed a groan at her rudeness. He blinked at her tone, then wandered away.

“That’s not okay. You can’t talk to people, treat them that way.” How many times have I told her that, over the span of our lives?

“What’s going on,” she repeated, dismissing my words with an imperious wave. “Just tell me.”

My shoulders tensed. Interactions with Tavia often left stomach acids climbing up my throat.

“I don’t want to talk about it. You wanted to meet. What did you want to talk about?”

She watched me through half-lidded eyes. “Are you sure—”

“Why am I here, Tavia?”

She reared back. Even I was surprised by the bite in my tone. I took advantage of the ensuing silence and signaled to the waiter who still hovered nearby.

Too late, I’d realized I was far too anxious and sleep-deprived to have attempted any conversation with my sister. My normal stores of patience were long gone, depleted. To be clear, my love for Tavia was never in question, but our conversations required painstaking hyper-vigilance on my part. I’d come to understand the barbs and conversational flares she threw out like Princess Peach on a Mario Kart track weren’t always intentional. She didn’t always set out to start arguments.

I didn’t always set out to react.

But we often managed to do just that. Our personalities, our viewpoints, our ways of navigating the world were vastly different.

We weren’t yin and yang. Ours was a dangerous, unstable alchemy.

The waiter listed to my side of the table with one watchful eye trained on Tavia.

“Thank you.” I worked up a saccharine smile. “My sister may need more time before ordering, but I’d like to put in an appetizer.” I glanced in her direction. “I can wait until you’re ready before we order our meals.”

He quickly noted my order and disappeared.

Tavia scowled down at her phone, nimble fingers flying over the screen. “Can I look forward to a more pleasant conversation once you’ve eaten?”

“It’s in your best interest. I’m hangry.”

“You’re more than that.” Seeing her raised brow and thorough perusal, I cautioned myself to stay calm, not to be reactive.

My mother’s voice sounded in my head: She’ll always be your sister. Be patient with her.

I took a deep breath. I could do that. This was my sister. It wasn’t her fault that my life was falling apart. I could be patient and listen to whatever she had to say. Although God knows, I was sick and tired of having to be the patient one all the time.

“You look terrible.”

“Yep, that’s what I keep hearing.”

Her lips flattened. “Is this about tenure? I don’t know how many times we have to tell you—”

“I don’t want to work for the bank, Tavia.”

“It’s not working for the bank. It’s working with your family. This is our legacy, what Daddy and Grandpa built. There’s plenty you could do to put your education to use. The way we’re growing, the plans I have, we already need your full attention. We’re behind in outreach. And if we didn’t have to share you with the university . . .”

I closed my eyes and prayed for strength. I’d worked so hard, sacrificed so much, with the hopes of charting my own course and avoiding this very moment. Yet here I was, only a breath away from having to crawl back to my family with my tail between my legs.

“I don’t draw a salary from the bank for my outreach work and I’m stretched thin as it is. Let’s just . . . leave it alone for right now, okay?”

“Just listen,” she persisted, and I closed my eyes, pressed my lips