her touch. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to go with Ivy, honey. I doubt she’s any fun at a party. Let’s see if we can get the housekeeper’s kid to take you.”
“His name is Alex, and you leave him out of this,” I snap.
“You’re awful possessive for a girl who says she’s not dating him.” Erica’s voice is smug as hell. “What do you care if he goes out with your sister?”
“Mama, stop it. I have a boyfriend. I can’t go to a party with some other boy!” Iz blushes.
“You think Kyle’s going to wait around for you all summer?” Erica laughs. “He’s a teenage boy, honey. Save yourself the heartbreak and move on.”
“That is terrible advice,” I say.
“Like you have so much experience with boys?” Erica asks, and I am so glad—so glad—she doesn’t know about Connor.
“I hate you. I hate all three of you!” Iz jumps up, pushing her chair back so hard it crashes to the floor, and runs from the room.
I lean over to pick up the chair. “Wow, you’re great at this whole mothering thing. I really feel like I missed out.”
“Shut up,” Erica growls.
Granddad is leaning back and steepling his fingers together. “I’m of a mind to call Rick myself,” he says. “It isn’t right, Erica, making the girls keep this secret for you. Keeping them away from him. He’s Grace’s father, and obviously Isobel considers him a father figure too.”
“You pick up that phone and I’ll never forgive you,” Erica snarls. “Whatever you hope is happening here—whatever chance you think you’ve got to make this right—it’ll be gone. Forever.”
“Then you’ve got to do better,” Granddad says. “The divorce, moving out here—it’s hard on them and you’re making it harder.”
“So it’s all my fault as usual.” Erica opens the fridge and takes out a bottle of wine.
“Well, who else’s fault would it be?” Granddad asks, throwing up his hands. “No, let me guess. It’s my fault. Ivy’s. The whole damn town’s. Nothing is ever your fault, is it? Sooner or later, you’ve got to accept responsibility for your choices, Erica. You’re the one who keeps saying you’re a grown woman. And you’re right. You’re not a confused, depressed teenager anymore. You’ve got two children to care for, and you need to start doing a better job of it.”
Two children. Even Granddad doesn’t count me as hers.
I’m sitting right between them, but I feel invisible. They could argue about me and Gracie and Iz all day long, but my feelings—what I have to say—wouldn’t really matter.
Granddad watches as Erica opens the wine and pours a very full glass. “I know you’ve always been resistant to therapy, but maybe it’s time to think about professional help. Rehab. If you don’t want the girls to go to Rick, they could stay here with me.”
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” Erica takes a very long sip of wine, then nods at me. “I already gave you one kid. Wasn’t she enough?”
I wasn’t. I never am. No matter what I do or how hard I try.
If Granddad had custody of Gracie and Iz, even temporarily, I bet he’d be able mold them into perfect Milbourn girls. An actress. An artist—or maybe a gymnast. But at what cost?
The thing is, part of me wants him to turn the weight of his expectations on them and leave me be. When did my thinking get so twisted? When did I become a person who’s willing to sacrifice my little sisters to get some peace?
Granddad and Erica are still arguing. I head for the sanctuary of my room, and neither of them says a word. I wonder how long it will take for them to notice my absence.
The living room is dark, the movie is off, and Gracie is gone. Upstairs, I pause in the hall outside my sisters’ bedroom. Raise my fist and knock quietly on their door. “It’s Ivy,” I say.
I know they’re in there—can hear someone’s footsteps—but no one answers or comes to open the door.
Why didn’t I tell them the truth that first day? Regret fills my throat. I’m a terrible sister.
I pace the stuffy attic like a restless cat, too frustrated to even cry. I pick up the prom picture of Alex and me on my nightstand. If we were talking, I could run down to the carriage house. Luisa would make me dinner and Alex would make me laugh and I’d feel better. But no. He’s still sulking because I want to kiss another boy. As