Page 20 of I Can't Even

Soph approached Babs’s attorney. Mr. Loren was a middle-aged man in a dark suit with a lavender tie. He seemed comfortable in his attire, as if most himself. His gray hair had receded to a neatly trimmed fringe around the bald dome of his head—not too pointy or too flat. It made me think he had a lot of brains tucked up in there, which was never a bad thing.

Soph murmured to the attorney as Em walked her boss at the insurance company, Mr. Drake, to the door. The man was tall, broad shouldered, and ridiculously good-looking in that Ivy league, clean-cut, speaks three languages and plays tennis every weekend, sort of way.

I didn’t like him. I didn’t like the way he looked at Em, his hand on her arm while he stared into her eyes with gentle concern. Mostly, I didn’t like it because even from across the room I could see two things: One, Em peered up at him as if he was her entire world. Seriously, I expected heart emojis to explode from her eyeballs. Two, the hand he had on her arm was his left one and the gold glint of a wedding band shone on his ring finger for all the world to see. Ay carumba, Em was in love with her married boss!

I briefly wondered if it was too early in the day to break into the hard stuff. A shot or two of Cuervo might check all of these bad feelings or it could cause me to belt out Guantanamera in my loudest drunk voice...so, no tequila then. When Em finally shut the door, all of the guests were gone—except for Paisley, who was loitering in front of the windows, taking in the view of the neighborhood, the town below and the vast ocean. Or maybe not. I followed the line of her gaze and noticed she was fixated on the house next door, Liam’s house. That’s when I saw Liam, still in his suit, but with his tie loosened, taking a long pull off a Green Flash IPA while he watered some plants in the large pots on his front steps.

The look in Paisley’s eye as she studied him was predatory, like she was sizing him up for a run at husband number four. Hells to the no! That’s when I decided it was time for her to go, git, skedaddle, and move on.

“Paisley.” I greeted her with all of my teeth showing. “So nice of you to come, really, great to see you, but I imagine you have a bit of drive to get back to Los Angeles, and we don’t want to keep you.”

I looped my arm through hers and dragged her to the door. She stumbled along beside me, as if she wasn’t very good at walking on those crazy platform stilettos of hers or maybe the skintight, hoochie-mama orange dress—really, to a funeral? —she had on was impeding her progress. Hard to say.

As we passed Soph and Mr. Loren, Soph gave me a wide-eyed look and shook her head. Now I stumbled, pulling us to a halt. Soph gestured to Mr. Loren.

“Paisley, imagine my surprise when Mr. Loren told me you’re here for the reading of the will as well,” Soph said.

I dropped Paisley’s arm without thinking to mask the shock on my face. What could Babs possibly have left Paisley? She loathed her as much as the rest of us, mostly because when Aunt Jean had passed, Paisley didn’t even think to call my mother until two days later, after all of the arrangements had been made.

Babs had never forgiven Paisley for that slight so what the heck was she doing here now? Was it possible my mother had plotted some sort of revenge in her will? Did she leave Paisley something truly ghastly? I perked up at the thought. This might actually be fun.

Paisley tossed her head. It was a very expensive cut and color she had going, and the layered chop framed her pointy-chinned face becomingly to make her appear less witchy.

My cousin gave me a side-eye and said, “What? You didn’t really think your mom was going to leave anything to you, her big disappointment, did you?”

I lunged for her, but Em captured me in a one-armed bear hug. Some might call it a headlock, if you ignored her forearm around my neck and her heels dug into the carpet, preventing me from reaching our cousin. Damn it!

I shook Em off with a look that said I was fine and we took our seats at the dining room table. Mr. Loren was at the head with Soph and Em on either side. I sat next to Em while Paisley was by Soph. I felt like we were in a situation room, trying to plan our next maneuver, except the person we were at war with had been invited into the planning session.

It might feel like I’m overstating the negativity of the relationship, but no. Paisley was one of those people who always got her way. When we were kids, she was the one who if she got tapped “it” in a game of tag, she suddenly had a horrible stomachache and couldn’t play until some other poor shlub, usually Soph, volunteered to be “it” for her at which point Paisley would have a miraculous recovery and be able to play again.

Plus, having known her before the fake boobs, faux blond hair, nose job, and the plumped out lips, it was very difficult for me to feel affection for someone who clearly got all of her self-worth from her appearance. I like authenticity in my people and as far as I could tell the only thing authentic about Paisley was her meanness.

As if sensing the tension in the room, Mr. Loren cleared his throat and brought our attention to him. He had a sheaf of papers in front of him and a large box.

“If you’re all ready,” he said. “I’ll get started.”

We all nodded, and he began to read Babs’s will. I knew I should have been listening intently, appreciating my mother’s final wishes and all that but the finality of it made it hard for me to concentrate. My heart beat hard in my chest. My breathing was unsteady and I was starting to sweat. I couldn’t seem to get passed the fact that this was the end. Babs was gone. We were reading her will. She would never complain about my hair, my clothes, or my personality again. I should have been relieved, but instead I felt empty.

I had come to define myself in opposition to Babs. It was a defiant stance that had formed when my father died and remained, propelling me across the country in an act of sheer fuck you, for lack of a better description. I had established a three-thousand-mile-wide boundary between me and Babs, even if it was all for show and deep down, I desperately just wanted her love and approval. Knowing I’d never get it, I became the human equivalent of a walking middle finger.

I lowered my head and closed my eyes. I forced myself to listen to Mr. Loren. I could do this, if not for me then for my sisters.

“And here is the proposed timeline,” Mr. Loren was saying. He distributed a single sheet of paper to all four of us.

I glanced blankly at it. I had no idea what it was referring to because during my little existential meltdown I’d missed that portion.

“So, let me be sure I understand,” Soph said. Bless her. “Mom wants the three of us to live together in this house for the entire summer.”

“Correct,” Mr. Loren said.

My eyes widened. Clearly, I had missed some pretty major shizzle.

“And if you don’t, you lose everything,” Paisley said with a grin. “The house and the money, all of it goes to me! Sorry, but that’s my favorite part.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” The words were out of me before I had the brains to hold them in. I blamed the surprise of it all.

Paisley cackled as she read the piece of paper in front of her. She clapped her hands together with a sneer for me. “Looks like you don’t get to go back to New York, doesn’t it?”

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