“That explains Houghton’s joke that redheads need more sunscreen,” Victoria muttered darkly. “since they expect me to mindlessly follow you to LA. Fuck my ambitions, time to slip into a slinky dress and be your pretty little trophy wife.” She made cutesie hand gestures. “Little do they know, you don’t want me either.”
Ooof, that one hurt. It was true, but it hurt. “He said you didn’t come back after the negotiations. Did you go home for the holidays?”
“Can you imagine that chaos, showing up without you?” She mimicked her grandfather’s wife Beverly’s high-pitched voice. “Oh, Vickie, how did you lose Alexander? There must be something wrong with you since he hasn't proposed yet.”
“You haven’t told them we broke up?”
"I told my dad," she said, her tone defeated. "But Spencer got divorced, and if Richard found out I'm single …" Her mouth tightened, then she waved to the waiter for another bottle.
“Remember when we got promoted to Senior Associate? Beverly had the nerve to say, ‘Guess they’re handing out promotions like candy.’ She’s never worked a day in her life, born rich and married richer.” She let out a deep sigh like it was pulling from the oxygen in cells in her toes. “Your parents sent flowers and champagne then flew out to take you to a celebratory dinner.”
“They took us both to dinner,” I corrected quietly.
“Right, like they care about me.”
“They asked why you didn’t come home with me.” In a moment of vulnerability, I added, “I didn’t know what to tell them.”
“You didn’t ask me,” she mumbled as she slumped back in her chair. I'd never seen Victoria slump before.
I opened my mouth to explain, ‘Of course I wanted you to come,’ but before the words emerged, reality slammed into me. I hadn’t wanted Victoria, I simply didn’t want to be alone.
Had Grace believed that’s why I asked her to move to San Francisco?
The whiskey blurred my thoughts as my jaw hung open like a broken hinge. Victoria filled her glass, the liquid swaying in her trembling hand, feeling the weight of my stinging silence like a secondary rejection.
For a decade, Victoria had been a Redwood, defying her petite stature to command respect, unflinching against strong winds. But now she was a willow tree, her once hopeful branches drooping with shattered dreams.
I hated seeing her defeated. It made me want to storm back into the partner’s offices and tell them to shove their partnership up their asses. I wanted to burn down the building in vengeance.
My sister’s voice sprang into my mind: Grace would burn down the world for me, and I don’t know what I did to deserve that.
Holy shit. Victoria had held a lot of roles over the last decade — study partner, girlfriend, roommate, colleague — but there’s one she’d fulfilled I’d never named: Best friend.
That’s what we’d become. No more romantic feelings, but a deep bond based on wanting what was best for her, as much or more as I wanted it for myself. I’d been jealous when Mallory claimed Grace as her best friend, because I hadn’t recognized mine.
A question I never would have considered until last month popped into my mind: ‘What would Mallory do?’
My sister would storm in with a sugary bribe. She’d rant about patriarchy, capitalism, and misogyny, plus sprinkle in transphobia and antiracism for flavor. She’d drop brutally honest truths about the brevity of life, drink me under the table, dance to lighten the mood, flirt shamelessly with the bartender … ok, I didn’t have to go that far.
Though I couldn’t summon Grace’s peppermint bark — a craving that hit hard — it was time to get irresponsible.
I caught the waiter’s attention. “I’ll take a crème brulee, she’ll have the chocolate mousse. And let’s swap that Sauvignon Blanc for champagne.”
"What the fuck could we possibly celebrate?”
“Freedom from the late capitalist notion that our self-worth is tied to our billable hours.”
Chapter 41Grace
Elijah had barely shifted into park before my door flew open. Isaac pulled me out, his big hands wrapping around the back of my head to hold me close. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it’s really you.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing in his protection and security. “I’m so sorry,” he gasped. His shoulders shook as he squeezed me tighter. “I wasn’t there when you needed me, I couldn’t find you, and I —“
“None of that now." I pulled back and wagged my finger in my big brother’s handsome face, like he'd done to me so many times in our childhood, and he released a soft chuckle. "What's past is past, and we're here now, together.”
He squeezed me tighter and I tucked into his hug, knowing how badly be both needed this touch, and said into his neck,. “I want to meet your family.”
“Our family,“ he said with delight. “And I want to hear everything we missed. Mama recapped your visit, said your big angry boyfriend decked Levi. I wish I could have seen that.”
I shrugged uncomfortably, not wanting our first conversation to be about Levi, Alex and, you know, assault and battery. So I asked, “You ever talk to Dad?”
“No, I call Mama at work, to check in and remind her that she’s got a safe space here if she ever needs a break from him,” he scowled, and the expression felt oddly comforting. I never thought I’d miss a scowl. “But I've barely talked to Dad since he kicked you out. Rachel tried to extend an olive brand with a wedding invitation, but he refused to step foot her in her family's synagogue. We only take the kids to see Mama when he’s out of town.”
Isaac kept his arm wrapped around my shoulders as we turned towards his house, where a pregnant woman stood on the front steps, He shouted playfully, “Rach, what part of ‘bed rest’ do you not understand? The bed, or the rest?”
She put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes at his bossiness. I liked her already. “Unless you’re going to empty my bedpan, I have to walk sometimes.”
“That’s why we have a nurse living with us,” he flicked a thumb towards Elijah.
“Nope,” Elijah said, lifting his hands. “Don’t put me in the middle of this.”
“If you were civilized and brought your sister inside the house instead of standing in the cold, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
Behind Rachel’s legs, a little girl hovered, clinging to her skirt. As we stepped into the foyer and removed our jackets, she held her arms up to Isaac, who scooped her up. “Leah, this is my sister, your Aunt Grace.”
God help me, I never thought I’d hear those words in my brother’s voice.
