“That’s not pretty,” I tell her.
She stretches her face even further, her lips pursing and twisting, nose wrinkling, crossing her eyes. I laugh. I don’t bother requesting an explanation for the weirdness with Taylor. I’ve already tried with both sisters, and neither will fess up.
Mindy isn’t exactly the boring workaholic with a stick shoved up her ass that Taylor always says she is, and Taylor isn’t the lazy freeloader Mindy thinks she is. Someday, maybe they’ll get their differences sorted out, but until then, we all have to put up with their animosity that sprang to life out of nowhere. At least they aren’t in the same room together very often, having mastered the art of avoidance.
Mindy pads over to the couch, kicks off her heels and plops down in the chair next to me with a big exhalation.
“How was work today, honey?” I ask.
“Exhausting. How about you?”
“Oh yeah, it was great. Right on track.” I force a smile.
“That’s good,” Mindy murmurs.
She doesn’t see my fake cheer because her eyes are shut, her head lolling back on the chair.
“I went to see Oliver today.”
She lifts her head. “Why?”
“To talk about the upcoming gallery opening.”
“I don’t understand how he and Archer can be friends. They’re so different.”
“They grew up together.”
She scratches her head. “Yeah, but Archer is like a white knight, and Oliver is like the black death.”
I chuckle. “He’s hardly plague-like.”
She frowns. “I don’t trust him. I don’t like that Finley is in business with him or that he roped you into it. It was slimy.”
I tap the armrest with my fingers. “He’s not that bad. He’s doing me a favor.”
Her brows dip. “Or that’s what he wants you to think. I’ve talked to people who’ve done business with him. He has no scruples. He’s Machiavellian and manipulative. He doesn’t care who he hurts to get what he wants.”
My conversation with Brienne disproves Mindy’s secondhand judgement, but I don’t want to argue with her. I’m tired and hungry and still recuperating from my embarrassing afternoon.
“Well, I have to work with him. I also get to decide who I talk to and when,” I say.
She sighs. “I know.”
I made this clear to Mindy after talking to my therapist. My family is well-meaning but would also like to smother me in bubble wrap and would prefer that I never speak to any man again or leave the house or do anything that might result in so much as a paper cut. But I have to face my fears. I have to learn to trust not only members of the opposite sex but myself too.
“I talked to Finley this morning.” She sits up, tucking her legs under her on the chair.
“What did she say?”
“Jacob will be home from rehab next week. If we can’t visit soon, she wants us to commit to driving up on the Fourth of July for a barbeque and family fun times with the whole gang.” She grimaces.
“Can you go?”
She shrugs. “I’ll try.”
“You don’t sound real committed.”
“If Taylor and I are forced into proximity again, one of us might end up committed.”