I stand. I am so over this meeting. “Understood,” I mutter, heading for the door.
Lizzy’s working at her laptop in the conference room, and something in my chest snags at the sight of her. Her hair’s pulled into a messy knot at the top of her head, and she chews on the end of her pen as she considers something.
“See you tomorrow?” I ask.
She jumps and her eyes go big. “What?”
“At Hanna and Nate’s wedding?”
“Oh. Yeah. Yeah, of course. It’ll be good to . . . have you there.” Her smile is the least believable thing I’ve seen all day, and I’m immediately suspicious. Is she hiding something? Was I wrong when I told Della there was nothing to worry about? Have Liz and Connor rekindled something since she started working here? It’s not like Della’s in a position to take care of Connor’s . . . needs.
Fuck. Nothing good down that road. I return her fake smile with my own.
I need to go back to the bank, where I can drown out the sound of my jealous thoughts with numbers and memos until my eyeballs ache, but I can’t seem to take my eyes off Liz.
It’s one thing to want to protect my sister from the likes of Connor. It’s quite another to make myself crazy with jealousy concerning Liz. She’s not mine. Never has been, never will be.
* * *
Sam
Eight Months Before . . .
“Your girlfriend is here,” I warn as I knock on the door to Connor’s apartment.
“Get out of my way,” my sister says. She shoves me, and I back up as she punches her key in the lock and pushes the door open. We both draw in a breath at what we see on the other side.
“Fucking bastard,” I breathe. Connor’s sleeping on the living room floor in a tangle of sheets and blankets, a woman in his arms.
“You cheating scum,” Della cries. “How could you?”
Connor jumps up and scrambles for his pants. “Della, what are you doing here?”
“I came to see my boyfriend.”
That’s the moment the girl in his bed rolls over, and I see who spent the night with Connor. She pulls the sheet under her arms and sits up, groggy and beautiful as all hell with those blond curls messy around her sleepy features.
“Good morning, Liz,” I say. For my sister’s sake, I pretend I’m not the one who has been betrayed here. I pretend I’m not the one who’s dying inside at seeing them naked together.
Liz blinks at Della. “Della? What are you doing here?”
Della lunges for her, and I wrap my arms around her waist to stop her. “You fucking slut. You fucking bitch cunt slut.”
“Della,” Connor says. “I’m sorry, I thought—”
“I’m pregnant, Connor. I’m pregnant, and you’re fucking another girl.”
I tear my gaze away from Liz—seeing her like this hurts too much, anyway—and turn my anger on Connor. “You got my sister pregnant?” I let my disappointment in Liz fuel my brotherly protective instinct. “You’re a piece of shit.”
“You’re pregnant?” Connor’s face goes pale and he bends at the waist, as if someone just sucker-punched him. I’d like to be next.
Liz hops up and tries to take the sheet with her, but it snags under the corner of the couch, exposing half her body. I look away. This isn’t how I imagined I’d see her naked again. Fresh out of Connor’s arms. My heartbroken sister calling her names. She yanks at it as she turns to each of us in confusion. “Connor? I thought you said . . .” Finally the sheet breaks free, and she stumbles back.
“How do you sleep at night?” Della asks her. “Are you really so selfish that you don’t see what you’re doing?”
“Liz,” Connor says, “could you please go? We’ll talk later.”
Liz gapes at him, but then she wraps the sheet tightly under her arms and leaves the room without another word.
“You too, Sam,” Connor says, apology in his eyes. “I need a minute with Della.”
Della runs to him and falls sobbing into his arms, and I back out of the apartment and head to my car, mind spinning, angry at the world. A few seconds later, Liz joins me in the hall, still wrapped in that sheet, her clothes wadded under her arm. She closes the door, then sinks to the floor, curling into herself as if she’s trying to disappear. She’s drawing in choppy breaths, and she looks small and vulnerable.
The last thing I want right now is to feel sorry for her, and when the sympathy surges up, I stomp it back down.
“What just happened?” she whispers.
“What did you expect? That he’d send his girlfriend away for the cheap fuck?”