her skin blotched. Through clenched teeth she said, “No one has ever hurt me as badly as you did.”
Here it came, the shame spiral, swirling over Shelley like a black swarm of bees. “How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?”
“Your T-shirt says it all.”
“Ignore the shirt. I am sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
“What do you want from me, Madison? A pound of flesh? You have everything, and I have . . .” She raised her arms, swept her hands. “Nothing.”
Madison’s mouth dropped open, and she looked at Shelley as if she’d lost her mind.
“Don’t you think I’ve suffered the consequences?” Shelley asked. “I have no home, I have no family. The only clothes I have are the ones I found stuffed in a drawer. Clothes I wore when I was twenty-one. I’m broke as hell and I owe you two hundred dollars for the taxi. I can’t even buy myself a breakfast burrito at McDonald’s. You flipping win!”
Tears misted Madison’s eyes, and that shocked the hell out of Shelley. Maddie wasn’t a crier. This was more than their quarrel. Something had hurt Maddie.
Hurt her badly.
Again, Shelley opened her mouth to say she was sorry but feared she’d just fuel Madison’s anger, so she kept her trap shut. She’d already blundered and punched a soft spot.
“You do not understand what you’re talking about.” Madison’s voice quivered. “I am sorry you’re in a bind, but you have no call to weigh in on my life.”
“And you have no call to weigh in on mine. You just bragged that you’re a hotshot TV personality, and you clearly have money falling out of your butt. What else could you want? So what that you don’t have a husband. No biggie. You’ll get one if you want one.”
Madison blinked furiously. She clamped her lips so hard her chin trembled. “Stop talking right now or I won’t be able to keep my promise to Gia and Grammy and finish that stupid quilt.”
“Yeah, well, me either.”
Madison put her hands on her hips. So much for the minitruce. But Shelley had to try. If she didn’t, well, she had no idea what would happen to her.
“In the spirit of putting our differences aside”—Shelley cleared her throat—“I thought it might be nice to throw Gia and Mike a bridal shower.”
“What?”
“A shower.”
“That’s a bit premature.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know a thing about what’s going on.”
Shelley frowned and scratched her head. “What thing are you talking about?”
“Their engagement. Something doesn’t feel right. It’s rushed.”
“God, you are so skeptical,” Shelley replied. “They’ve known each other for years. Friends turn into lovers all the time. All I’m saying is that a bridal shower would be a nice gesture.”
“Like you could afford to throw a party.” Madison looked smug.
Watching her sister, Shelley had a stunning moment of clarity and she understood the real reason she’d kissed Raoul. It hadn’t been to protect Madison from marrying a douchebag cheater as she’d convinced herself. It was because she’d wanted to knock Madison off her high horse.
Was she that vindictive and petty?
Yes, dear, yes you are.
New shame blazed through her. That was why everyone had sided with Madison. Everyone except Gia, who’d refused to take sides.
Shelley opened her mouth to tell her sister her revelation, thinking if she admitted her dark motive that Madison would soften and finally accept her apology.
From out of nowhere, Pyewacket shot across the porch like a Flying Wallenda, leaping onto Madison’s side of the quilting frame and sending the opposite side of the wooden plank rocking up into Shelley’s shins.
Wham!
“Mother of blueberries!” Shelley yelped, and in her pain stumbled backward off the ladder and landed hard on her ass.
Irony.
That cold little bitch.
Chapter Eight
Gia
TENSION: The balancing forces exerted on the needle and bobbin threads by the sewing machine that affect the quality of its stitch.
GIA FOUND HER sisters on the back porch. Madison was dressed to the nines while Shelley looked like she’d just finished a kickboxing competition . . . and lost.
“Shell, what happened to your legs?” Gia sucked in her breath through clenched teeth, sympathy curling tight against her chest.
“Pyewacket.” Shelley shook her head. “Don’t ask.”
“I tried to get her to put ice on it.” Madison held up a zippered plastic sandwich bag filled with melting ice cubes. “But she refused.”
“I’m fine,” Shelley insisted.
“You’re just being contrary.” Madison squeezed the ice pack in her fist.
“And you’re trying to run the show, like always.”
Madison looked hurt and pressed her lips together as if struggling to keep from making a smart comment. She