Page 12 of Should Have Been Me

Fortunately, I was eventually spared from the scrutiny by the arrival of Leighton. If the relationship with my father was murky, the connection with my half-sister was downright muddy. She’d only been three when I moved away, and since I hardly ever came back, we were practically strangers. But there was one thing I knew for certain when it came to Leighton.

She was a spoiled brat.

I wasn’t sure if it was overcompensation on my father’s part after I left, but the few times I’d been around over the years, I’d witnessed him cave to his little girl more times than I could count, giving in to whatever whim she’d had at the moment. I knew he spent money on her that he and Millicent didn’t necessarily have, just because he couldn’t bring himself to tell her no.

It was his tender heart that had him wrapped around Leighton’s little finger, and from what I had gathered, the older she got, the better she was at manipulating that softness in him. I saw it first-hand when she waltzed into the dining room, twenty minutes late for our scheduled dinner, without so much as an apology for making everyone wait.

“I’m here,” she singsonged as she breezed into the room. The man on her arm looked about as comfortable to be there as I was. His gaze darting between the three of us already sitting at the table, to the one and only available place setting remaining.

Millicent’s cheeks flushed as she stood from her chair to receive a peck on her cheek from her daughter. I watched curiously as she tried and failed to keep her smile from looking brittle. “Leighton, I told you this was a family dinner. Your brother’s home for the first time in years.” She cast an apologetic look at the man before looking back at her daughter. “It was supposed to just be the four of us.”

Leighton’s bottom lip poked out in a ridiculous pout. She may have been ten years younger, but she still acted like a child. “But Barrett’s important to me,” she whined. “Dad understands. Right, Daddy?” She implemented a baby voice as she looked to our father and batted her eyelashes.

Hershel cleared his throat and tugged at his collar, clearly uncomfortable with being put between his wife and daughter. “Uh, well...” Leighton gave him big, sad doe-eyes that he fell for hook, line, and sinker. I could actually see him crumbling under her attention. “I’m sure it’s fine with Vaughn, sweetheart,” he told Millicent, earning a vicious glare from his wife. “No harm in letting Leighton’s boyfriend stay. There’s plenty of food.”

Having gotten her way, Leighton bounced on the balls of her feet, clapping her hands together. “Thank you, Daddy,” she said, all sugar and spice as she leaned down to place a smacking kiss on his cheek.

While Millicent moved into the kitchen for another place setting, my half-sister and her boyfriend took the two chairs across the table from me.

“Well, well. The prodigal son’s finally returned,” she said as she shook out her napkin and placed it daintily in her lap.

I narrowed my eyes, studying her closely in an attempt to find out what game she was playing. I might not have known her well, but on top of being a self-centered child, she got a real kick out of playing dramatic, immature games, and now that she had an audience by way of her boyfriend, I was sure she had something up her sleeve.

“How many years has it been since you’ve seen our father?” She tsked, shaking her head. “It’s really sad that it took him getting sick for you to finally show up.”

And there it was. She was in the mood to play the loving doting daughter while trying to make me feel like shit. Too bad I didn’t have the feelings necessary for her act to have any effect.

“Leighton Angelica Cavanaugh!” Millicent jerked to a stop just inside the dining room, her flabbergasted gaze on her daughter. “You take that back right now.”

I sat back in my seat, propping my elbow on the arm of my chair and rubbing at my chin. “It’s quite all right, Millie,” I assured her before looking back at my half-sister. “Besides, I see the spoiled little princess never left.”

Leighton sucked in an affronted gasp, shooting her eyes over to our father. “Daddy, say something! You’re just going to let him talk to me like that?”

Hershel shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “The both of you behave yourselves now. This is supposed to be a happy occasion.” He looked at me and smiled, then did the same to Leighton. “Both my kids are under one roof for the first time in way too long. What greater reason to celebrate?”

Displeased with not being the center of attention, Leighton shot me a look across the table before pasting a sugary smile on her face and looking back to Hershel.

“You know, speaking of reasons to celebrate, Barrett and I have some news. That’s why I wanted him at dinner tonight.” I took a lazy sip of wine as she brought their clasped hands up on the table, shifting them back and forth so the diamond on her ring finger would catch the light. “We’re getting married!” she squealed so loud it made my molars grind together.

The wine Millicent had just sipped sprayed out of her mouth. “You’re what?”

My father’s complexion grew even paler. “You’re engaged?”

“When did this happen?” Millicent demanded to know.

“I didn’t realize you two were so serious,” Hershel said, trying to cover his shock.

Leighton turned to give the silent Barrett an affectionate look that felt forced to me. “We’re so excited, we just couldn’t wait to tell the world. It’s going out in the Pembrooke Press tomorrow, but we wanted you to be the first to know.”

Millicent massaged her temples. “It’s already going out in the local paper? How—that’s—when in the world did this happen?”

If I had to guess, it was sometime between my father’s diagnosis and the announcement that I was returning to town. Leighton had never done well with having the spotlight shifted off her, and judging by the sheen of sweat on her fiancé’s upper lip, I was willing to bet he’d been strong-armed into an engagement before he was ready.

“So, it was a little sudden,” Leighton answered with a petulant tone, confirming my suspicions. “But when you know, you know. Right, bunny?”

Bunny gave her a wobbly, unsure smile. “Uh, y-yeah. That’s right.”

Christ, my diva half-sister was marrying a spineless doormat. I could only pray they wouldn’t procreate, because the last thing this world needed was a mix of those traits.

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