I sputter. “What on earth are you talking about? You’re the pretty one. You’re getting your PhD at twenty-three. I couldn’t even do medical school.”

She shakes her head at me. “You burn bright, Elena. Nana saw it. She loved you the most. I’d see it on her face when she showed you how to sew, when she taught you how to drive, when she gushed over your adventures in New York.” She pauses. “She left you her house! You have all her things: the clothes, her little knickknacks, the whiskey, the beautiful staircase we used to play on, the sofa where we took naps, the swing outside on the tree . . .” She bites her lip. “Even Aunt Clara. You’re so close to her.”

Oh.

Nana left me her house. Mama and Aunt Clara got shared ownership of the Cut ’N’ Curl as well as monetary gifts. Giselle was bequeathed farmland in Daisy.

“I am the oldest, Giselle. And that land is worth a lot of money. Close to Nashville, beautiful hills. It appraised at two hundred grand. I’m sure it will only increase.”

“It’s not about the money. You got the house because Nana wanted you to have it. She loved you more.” I hear the jealousy in her tone, and I start. She never acted like she cared at the reading of the will.

She sniffs. “I didn’t want to cause any rifts, so I never said anything.”

Ah, and that’s where we’re alike. Peacemakers.

Only we’ve been avoiding a real conversation for months.

And maybe Nana did love me more. I don’t know. She did gravitate toward me—and me to her. Two peas in a pod.

“You never wanted to learn to sew. Daddy taught you how to drive.” I pause, feeling silly for trying to contradict her feelings. People feel how they feel. You can’t change that. I sigh. “You’re welcome to any of her things, Giselle. I never meant for you to not have a personal item.” I glance over at Preston, who’s out of earshot. “Are you saying you were interested in Preston because you were . . . jealous?” There’s always been that little competition between us. While I came in second at the county spelling bee in middle school, she won her year three years later. While I got a partial scholarship to NYU, she got a full ride to the University of Memphis.

NYU is much more prestigious, a little voice whispers.

She frowns. “You say you didn’t go to medical school, but you could have if you’d wanted to, but you chose what you love. You always stand up for what you believe in. You’re . . . brave.”

No, I’m not. I think about my lingerie.

“And I know about your lingerie.”

My eyes fly up to hers. “Preston. Asshole. You better keep your trap shut.”

She huffs out a laugh. “Of course I won’t tell.”

“Good. ’Cause I might have to pull all that pretty blonde hair out.”

I might be serious.

She smirks. “There it is. Fire. And here’s the thing; if you’d really cared about Preston, you would have told Mama the truth, and you would have confronted me months ago! Do you know how many times I waited for you to snap at Sunday lunch? But you never did. Because you didn’t really love him.”

“And you do?”

She nods. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something there. I tried to ignore it, but he kept texting me, and I didn’t . . . know how to handle it.”

Instant attraction—at my own house. It stings.

She must read my face. I can’t hide anything. “It wasn’t about taking what was yours, Elena. I hate that he and I happened like that. I do, so much. It’s going to haunt me forever. If you hadn’t sent that text to us, I never would have dated him, you know. I would have walked away.”

Maybe. But he and I were already ruined after that kiss.

“I found a hot one, Elena!” It’s Aunt Clara, who’s been hovering near us, yet she’s managed to grab a romance book.

I straighten up from the desk as she approaches, waving it in the air. “I’ll take it. Just read a hot scene. Whew.” She fans herself, eyes on mine. You okay? they ask.

I don’t know. A sister’s betrayal is hard. And it wasn’t even needed. Preston should have broken up with me first. They did things in the wrong freaking order.

Life is messy, love especially. I hear Nana in my head, but I’m not sure my pride is ready to listen. It still hurts that I trusted both of them.

Preston approaches the desk, probably seeing that we’re winding down our conversation. He gives me a once-over, lingering for half a second on my shirt, and I bristle. It does have little hearts all over it and is quite cute with the red velvet collar, but he better keep his eyes off my breasts.

He drops his gaze immediately and takes Giselle’s hand, lacing it with his.

“Everything good?” he asks us.

I smirk, recalling his full set of pajamas, average build, and mediocre penis size. His inability to find my clit!

“Did you ask her about . . . you know . . . ,” Preston says to Giselle, giving her a nudge.

“What?” I say.

Giselle inhales a deep breath, her eyes regretful as she flicks her gaze at Preston. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I do,” he mutters. “It’s perfect.”

Aunt Clara slams her book down on the counter. “Y’all might as well spit it out. We ain’t got all day. I have hair to cut.”

Giselle closes her eyes.

I frown at Preston. “Ask me what?”

He frowns back. “Your mama suggested we might have the engagement party at your house. It’s the biggest house in town, and the community center is booked, and the church has renovations, although we’d want alcohol there, so that’s really not an option. I have a huge family in Oxford, and Giselle has her friends from Memphis, and well, I think your house would be perfect.”

He is such a dick!

I glance at Giselle, and her face has reddened. She says, “You know how Mama is. Once she gets an idea—”

“Yeah, I know.” I can’t identify what emotion ripples through me, but I power through it. I put on a smile. “My house is perfect! Let’s do it!”

Giselle blinks, and Preston tosses an arm around her. “See. It’s fine. Told you. Elena is the best.”

The best? Ha.

Giselle waffles; I can tell by the way she’s wringing her hands, her gaze trying to hold mine.

I stare down at the books on the desk instead.

And they mumble a few more words, apologizing for something, but I’m barely listening, my head racing. A party. I’ll need to get the shrubs trimmed, have the rugs and curtains cleaned . . .

Aunt Clara whisks them out the door, and Topher is next to me, arm around my shoulders.

“You heard?” I saw him darting by periodically.

He nods, face grim as he watches them get in the Lexus and drive away. He gives me a squeeze. “You know you don’t have to host a party for them, Elena. Not really. They could do it in Nashville somewhere.”

“No, I do. I really do. I have the prettiest house in town, and it’s a sister’s duty to help. She did spend time there. It has special memories. Daisy is her hometown.”

“You are too kind. Also, he’s an ass. He was totally checking you out.”

I shrug. “It’s the boobs. Guys can’t help it.”

“Elle, honey, it’s you. I wish you could see you how everyone else does. Fucking Preston. I hope Giselle knows he’s got a roving eye.” He pauses. “I honestly think you intimidated him. He never liked me living with you.”

I wince. “I never said that.”

“I could tell. Dirty looks and all.”

“He’s going to be her husband, so let’s focus on the positive. He’s . . .” I stop, not able to think of one nice attribute.

“Well, we know he was a horrible lay.”

I laugh.

“And he never liked Hog from Hell,” he adds. “Didn’t Romeo crap in his shoes once?”

Yep.

“He never put the toilet paper back on when he finished a roll!”

I nod.

“And his nose hairs need to be clipped.”

I snort. “You should have seen his toenails. Gross.”

Topher stares down at me. “Are you terribly upset? Usually I can tell, but not today.”

I let out a long sigh and give him a nod. I expected the tears to come when I first saw them walking in, but they never did.

“You know, I talked to Greg.”

“Yeah?” I ask.

He nods. “He really wants to meet you.”

“Uh-huh. We know how my last blind date turned out.”

“I’m serious. I showed him that picture of us at Halloween—you know the one, where you dressed up as the tart and I was the priest? He was super into it.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Just sayin’ . . . he likes your kind of sexy.”

I pick up a book and run it through the scanner. “Nope. Between Preston and Jack, this girl is done with men.”

Chapter 19

ELENA

The following Monday evening after work, Topher and I walk into the community center after dinner. Just a block from my house—like most things in town—it’s on Main Street. It used to be the old elementary school until the new one came along several years ago. The center holds bingo nights and chess clubs in the cafeteria, ballet and salsa dancing are taught in the classrooms, and plays are in the gymnasium.