Hot Under His Collar - Andie J. Christopher Page 0,42

of drama.

If Sasha’s great sin was that she always wanted what she couldn’t have, her sister’s was that she always got what she wanted and was never happy when she got it.

By the time that Sasha had triaged the floor/quinoa situation, she was ready to listen and nod and fix whatever was fucked up in her sister’s perfect life without rolling her eyes or complaining—within view or earshot of her sister.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m leaving Tucker.”

They hadn’t been married that long—two years—and this was the third or fourth time that her sister had made the declaration. It was, however, the first time that she had made it all the way to Chicago, so Sasha couldn’t discount the fact that this time might be for real.

She’d never liked her brother-in-law that much, but she hadn’t disliked him. It seemed almost unfair to dislike someone that dull. Their mother had been delighted when Madison had “snagged such a catch” (eye roll), and Madison had seemed as happy as she ever was—about two steps above miserable—at the time. So Sasha had kept her mouth shut until their mother had started hinting at the eligibility of Tucker’s younger brother. Then she’d sort of noped out in the most gracious way possible.

“What happened?” Sasha had some ideas. The first time she’d left him, he’d suggested that they go birdwatching on their six-month anniversary. The second time she’d walked out, he hadn’t told her that he was bringing his boss home for dinner. Sasha had never seen such fifties-housewife bullshit, but it was none of her business. Honestly, Sasha would have slipped the boss a hundred if she was married to Tucker—less time listening to him prattle on about painting miniatures.

Then again, Sasha would have burned all of Tucker’s pleated-front pants before the wedding and then denied all knowledge or culpability. But her sister had more fortitude than that. She’d married for security, and she was at peace with that. Or so Sasha had thought.

“Did Tucker give all of your money to a fin domme?”

“What’s a fin domme?”

Sasha shouldn’t have brought it up. This was going to be worse than the time she’d had to explain pegging to her sister to talk her out of leaving Tucker after Madison had found a strap-on in his drawer. And she definitely wasn’t going to think about pegging when she could still hear Patrick saying the word with a wry smile in his voice.

“That doesn’t matter. Did he lose all his money?”

“Of course not.” Her sister turned and started rifling through the liquor cabinet. Much more likely to find something gluten-free in there. When she found a bottle of red and two glasses, she turned back to Sasha.

Sasha took the glass Madison offered her and sat on the couch. “So what happened?”

Her sister’s brow furrowed, which hadn’t happened in over a decade to Sasha’s knowledge. Things were really dire if a Finerghty woman started laying off on injectables. “I’m not in love with him anymore, and I was just looking at him wearing his awful pants while talking about some bird that I’d never heard about and I just couldn’t do it anymore.”

“So you just walked out?” Sasha finally examined her sister’s outfit and noticed how off it was for her. Like Sasha, her sister had had proper decorum drummed into her practically from birth. Slacking was never allowed short of arterial blood loss. And even then, it was frowned upon.

“Yeah, I grabbed my purse and my passport. And I left.” Madison sounded bewildered by her decision.

“And you came here?”

Her sister took a big gulp of her wine and asked, “Should I not have? Were you going to have a boy over?”

Thinking about the boy she’d like to have over if it were possible to have him over wasn’t going to lead anyplace good. She had to put Patrick out of her mind entirely, but it was especially important while her sister was here. Even if Madison had committed the cardinal sin of leaving a marriage and possibly bringing scandal down on the family, she probably wouldn’t be able to stomach her thing for Patrick.

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” Sasha took another sip of wine. “Did Tucker cheat on you?”

“God, no!” Madison reared back and made a sour face. “Can you imagine Tucker cheating?”

Unfortunately, Sasha kind of could. Her sister wasn’t nice to her husband, and it wasn’t his fault that he was deeply uninteresting. It wouldn’t surprise her if Tucker met a woman who shared his