“I really don’t.”
“Well, you know what a good cook your grandfather is,” she says, puffing on her cigarette before giving me a wink. “That’s not for nothing, so I think Eliza’s right.”
“Nonna,” I groan. “I did not miss you.”
“That’s too bad,” she says. “We thought we might stay through the holiday, since it’s so close, and we’re already down here.”
“You too?” I ask. “King and Eliza are already staying a whole month.”
“You should be grateful,” she says. “Your brother knows what that word means that you don’t. He could be giving up a big opportunity back home. A man in his position, you never know what can happen while you’re gone for a month.”
I grunt in response to that.
“It’s not just for you,” she says. “Your sister needs help with all those babies. A whole brood of them already.”
“I noticed.”
I hear footsteps further down the balcony, and I know she’s out here, too. I can feel her, the way our blood is tied.
There’s a pause, and then she pads toward us on bare feet. She’s wearing a modest black dress I remember from before, even if it fits her differently. The first thing she said to me was that I was huge. She’s not huge, but she’s bigger, all her curves amplified and softened by motherhood. She looks out of place in the designer dress, like she no longer fits rich girl clothes after living in obscurity for three years.
“Can I join?” she asks, her eyes guarded as she looks from me to our nonna.
“I’m just going in, in fact,” Nonna says. “I’ll leave you two to it.”
“You can stay,” I say. “I’ll go in.”
She struggles to sit up in the chaise, but when I reach out to help her, she slaps my hand away. “I haven’t even gone grey yet,” she scolds, hauling herself to her feet. “I’m certainly capable of getting out of a chair.”
I hold up both hands in surrender, and she gives me one final, scathing look before climbing through my window and disappearing into the house.
I take a drag on my joint and stare at Crystal.
“You smoke pot?”
“Yeah,” I say. “And you breed like a fucking rabbit. We’re adults now. What about it?”
“Nothing,” she says, smoothing her skirt under her as she sits, that ladylike gesture she probably got from Ma. It’s funny how little things like that remain, even when she’s so changed.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she says, settling onto the edge of the seat, facing me.
I lounge back in my chair and cross my ankles. “About what?”
I’ve been an asshole so long I don’t remember how to stop. It’s who I am now. Maybe it always was.
She sits up straight and runs her hands along the tops of her thighs. “About moving out.”
“What?” I ask, straightening.
“I have a family,” she says. “We want a family home. I’ve got three kids. Diamond screams like a banshee half the time.”
“It doesn’t bother me,” I grit out.
She shrugs, staring down at her knees. “This is your house. Devlin says you two made peace, but I know you feel this tension, too.”
“Not because I don’t want you here,” I say quietly. “This is your house, too.”
“Then why won’t you even talk to me?” she asks, raising her dark gaze to mine. Her lashes are dark and thick even without makeup, her eyes like staring into a mirror. That’s what we were, opposite images of each other. She was the good one, and somehow, she kept me good.