“Oh, I know.”
“Silas tends to hide his pain under layers of jackass.”
“No shit.”
“While you tend to hide yours under that stone-cold bitch façade.”
I pursed my lips, shifting from one leg to the other. “Stop psychoanalyzing everyone but yourself. At least Silas and I are still here.”
Spencer’s chest visibly expanded as he took in a deep breath. “Let’s just try to get through today. We can continue arguing tomorrow.”
“No, we won’t. I’m done arguing.” I squared my shoulders. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get dressed and prepare for our family’s funeral.”
Spencer shook his head, rubbing his jaw as he looked down, kicking at the corner of my plush mint-colored carpet. “Sure. Whatever.” He stepped up, reached out and slipped his hand to the back of my head, kissing me on the forehead. “I love you, Sienna.”
I closed my eyes. “Yeah, me too.”
Spencer left my room and shut the door behind him. I just stood there staring at the creased sheets on my four-poster bed, the cast iron frame almost as cold as the pain that filled my chest.
Lately, I had been spending most of my time between these four walls, having no desire to roam around the house risking walking into Elenor, and having to grind my teeth to keep my mouth shut. I had learned a long time ago that my dad would take her side whenever I sparred with her. Always. Keeping to myself here in my room or going out partying was the safer option.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirrored closet doors. My hair was a mess. I was pale as fuck. And some of last night’s mascara clung to the dark circles beneath my green eyes which no longer beamed with life. My collarbone had become more visible, my cheekbones more pronounced. There was no healthy glow in the young woman who stared back at me.
Luckily, I was a pro at hiding the ugliness and camouflaging my flaws with as much fake confidence as possible. I would clean myself up, do my hair, add color to my cheeks, and plump up my lips. Then, I would put on that damn dress, walk in the stiletto-heeled shoes of a Whitlock, and own every goddamn conversation I took part in.
And that’s exactly what I did on my dad’s wedding day.
Now, in hindsight, I should never have put on that dress. I should never have left my room.
But I did.
And that was the beginning of the end…
For Noah and me.