Page 4 of Let's Be Forever

“She’s who I co-own Everything Everything with…” I trail off, stuffing my mouth as I consider what I want to say. As casual as our conversation seems, we’ve gone years with no contact;there’s a lot to cover. I have many questions and I’m sure she does too. “So…”

“Ask whatever you want, but I can’t promise I’ll be able to answer everything.” She pastes a smile on her face, but it feels painfully forced.

I don’t know where to begin, but I go with “How did you know I live here?”

“I spoke with Isabella. She gave me your address, and then she told me about Rosie.” She glances sidelong at my girl, her expression sorrowful.

I nod. Our cousin is the only family member I still talk to—not a lot, but we catch up now and again and share whatever we’re up to. Everyone sided with my parents when they decided they didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I’ve not spoken to them in over six years. I miss them, but as the years have gone on, it’s gotten easier not to feel their absence.

“I’m assuming that’s how you found out about the bakery?”

She nods, dropping her fork before picking up her mug, taking a small, careful sip.

We’re enveloped in silence, neither of us brave enough to speak up. It lingers, lasting longer than I feel comfortable with. But when her lips part, eyes darting to Rosie and back at me, I shake my head.

When she found out who Sylas’s family was, the influence they have, the kind of money they have, she told me I was stupid for believing he’d be any different. That guys like him don’t fall for girls like me.

Her words were much harsher, but that’s the condensed version.

And I should’ve listened. I should’ve stayed away.

“Like you, there are things I’m not sure I’ll be able to share or give you the answers to yet. Maybe one day, but not right now. And please, I don’t want to hear theI told you so.I don’t needyou gloating about how you were right, how I was stupid, how I should’ve listened to you. Please don’t.”

“I didn’t come here to do that. Not when I…” She swallows hard, the noise audible in the semi-quiet apartment. “Not when I’ve done stupid sh—stuff. It’s also been a few weird, rough years. I’m sorry it took me this long to come see you, to talk to you, but I…” Her voice quivers and she clears her throat. “I didn’t know how and I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”

“Yet you still showed up with no notice. Really thought I’d just let you in, huh.” I smile to slice the tension bubble we’re trapped in. “What if I hadn’t? What if I had shut the door in your face?”

She lifts her mug to her lips, cracking a smile behind it. “I had a plan B.”

“Which was?”

“A hotel room. But I wasn’t worried because I know you’ve missed me as much as I’ve missed you.” Her eyes mist and she repeatedly blinks, looking away. “Sorry,” she mutters. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional. I’m never like this,” she croaks.

A laugh trickles out of me. Between the two of us, she’s always been the least friendly, the more serious, the most focused. Always with her nose in books, never crying or getting upset. She’s atake the bull by its hornskind of person.

So seeing her hold back tears, stop herself from breaking down, makes me unsure how to feel—how to let her know it’s okay to let herself feel when I myself am not sure how to feel after everything I went through.

We’ve never been close, never been the kind of siblings who open up to each other. I wanted that so badly growing up. I yearned to be close with her, but she never wanted me in her space. She was harsh with her words, yelled for me to stop bothering her, so eventually I did and that drew us further apart.In fact, I think we’ve spent half if not most of our lives arguing rather than getting along.

People say it’s normal, say it’s something siblings do, but nothing about our arguments feltnormal. For fuck’s sake, we stopped talking. Even beforehim, we weren’t getting along and would go months without talking.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks moments later, loosening the noose of silence strangling us.

“Only if you let me ask something in return,” I bargain, because it’s the only way I’ll answer truthfully.

“Okay.” She sighs, finally meeting my eyes. “Ishein her life?”

Ever since she found out about him, and we got into the argument, she’s refused to use his name. It angered me before, but now I’ve never been more thankful. It’s hard for me to speak it sometimes, let alone think of him.

“No.” I bite the inside of my cheek. “He—he didn’t want to be, and I’d prefer if you didn’t bring him up.”

Her lips form a flat line, nostrils flaring, but she doesn’t comment, only nods once. “I promise I won’t bring him up again.”

“Thanks.” The corners of my lips lift slightly, but I can’t bring myself to smile or force myself to mean it. “So, where are you working? Weren’t you in medical school? And weren’t you engaged?” I didn’t see her engagement ring last night. I was too stunned, and because Rosie woke up, I couldn’t ask.

“I dropped out of medical school years ago and became a physical therapist instead. And he cheated.” Her gaze flicks to her left hand, eyes lasered on the empty ring finger. “Many times with my friend.”

I don’t know whether to congratulate her or let her know I feel her pain. Sylas never cheated, but he sure broke my heart. No—notbroke. Stabbed, ripped, poured acid over it, and set it on fire.