Page 26 of Revenge Puck

“You want me to come over this weekend?” she volunteers cheerfully. “I can bring groceries and judge all your life choices in person. Make my famous lasagna?”

“Tempting offer, but your lasagna is not famous.”

“You jerk!”

“I’m stating a fact.” I shift into drive. “Smoke alarms shouldn’t be part of an evening’s entertainment.”

“Hey!” She laughs again. “Stop. You always do that.”

“Do what?”

“Deflect. Pretend you’re fine when you’re obviously not. I can hear it in your voice.”

“And how does my voice sound?”

“Constipated. Like you have to take a shit.”

I laugh. “It’s a God given talent, what can I say?”

“It’s not a gift, it’s aproblem.”

“To quote a famous chef, ‘blah blah blah’.”

Sutton refuses to allow the subject to change. “Does this mood have anything to do with Bailey?”

I shrug. Might as well give a bit. “Maybe.”

She scoffs. “Wow. Sooo specific.”

“I trusted the wrong people.”

Her voice softens. “Perhaps you did—but it’s not a crime. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

“You lie so bad.”

I ease onto the highway. “What do you want from me, a handwritten confession that I’m okay?”

“Sure. Bullet points for extra credit.”

There’s a beat, then Sutton finally changes the subject. “Sooo, Mom called earlier.”

Oh, fuck.“Is that the real reason you called?”

“Correct.” She pauses. “They want to do a family trip.”

I groan. “Define ‘trip’.”

She laughs. “Somewhere warm. Tropical. Dad already started a spreadsheet for a PowerPoint presentation to convince you.”

“That tracks.” The man loves files, paper copies, and data.

“During your off season, so you can dial down the anxiety about it.”

“I mean…”

“No one will notice you on a beach somewhere. You’re so basic andblendy.” I can hear her rolling her eyes through the phone, the sarcastic brat. “You’ll survive, all the while pretending you’re dead inside.”