Page 123 of The Plan

“Oh my God, Lisette.” I shake my shake, and she actually laughs. She’s seriously unhinged because there's no other reason why dark humor is her coping mechanism. “I am saying sorry because you deserve to hear it, but I know it doesn’t change anything, so I swear to you that I’m going to be a better brother and sponsor.”

She only nods, not a care in the world, but I know her, and I know she cares, so I go on. “I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault you relapsed, so—”

“No.” She points the end of her paintbrush at me. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you dare take on the weight of my relapse. You want to feel bad about the mean things you said when you were hurt, then fine. You want to hear me say it? Yeah, you hurt me, but guess what, Sire? We’re addicts, and hurt people hurt people.”

“You’re forgiven for being a mean drunk and not because I wanted my brother back but because youaremy brother. I wouldn’t be able to stay sober if I continued to be angry at you, so I’m forgiving you for myself, too, but don’t youdare”—She stabs the air in my direction with her brush again—“blame yourself formyrelapse. What do we say in meetings?”

“Lis—”

“Sire.” She holds her brush sharper, and I think she thinks she can actually hurt me with it. I let out a sigh and answer her.

“Relapsing is no one's fault but our own. It’s not because someone offered to buy us a drink or sell us the drugs. It's notbecause of who we fought with that day. Addiction is a disease, but we have to choose to stay sober.”

She nods a few times and takes a breath. “It was my choice to throw away my six years. It had nothing to do with you. Be a great sponsor and an even better brother, but don’t for one second do it out of guilt.”

I nod once, and she turns back to her painting. After a few seconds of silence, I try to speak up, but she beats me to it. “If you apologize again, I really am going to give you a dick for a head. If you want to be all mushy and cry, go to the twins. I’m not the sibling for that shit.”

I break into a laugh, and I’m grateful as fuck that she’s an asshole sometimes. I’ve had enough mushyness for today, so I stop apologizing and let her finish her portrait of me. Once she finally shows me, I swear my jaw drops.

I get up to get a better look at it, and if I hadn’t watched her paint for the last few hours, I would have believed this was an actual picture.

“How the fuck do you do that?” I almost touch it before she whacks my hand with her brush. “How much for it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sire. Just take it.” She turns and wipes her hands clean.

“Lis, you spent hours on this actual masterpiece. Don’t sell yourself short. Give me a price.” When she notices I’m being serious, a new look covers her face. She walks back over to the canvas and studies it for a few seconds before turning to me.

“Half a mil.”

“Okay, I can write a check or—”

“Sire.” She laughs at something, but I can’t tell what’s so funny. When she notices I’m not laughing, her eyes widen. “Wait, you're serious?” Is she not?

“Lisette,” I point at the painting again. “Do you not see this?” I’m not being biased when I say her work is priceless. I wasn’teven fucking posing like this, yet she captured every single detail. From the bits of green in my eyes to the two small beauty marks above my lip. She even perfectly captured the weird pear-shaped birthmark above my eyebrow and the scar on my nose.

“No, just buy me more supplies or something.”

“Lis—”

“No, really. That’s what I’d spend the money on either way. Buy me as many supplies as you think the painting is worth.” She tries to brush it off like it’s no big deal, but I don’t miss the way her cheeks reddened.

I turn back to her work, mesmerized. “I know you drown out your feelings in your paintings. Are you sure your depression is getting better?” I tease, and when I steal a glance at her, she’s already starting a new one.

“Never mind. Go ahead and send me that half a mil with asshole tax.”

I shove her off of her stool, causing her to fuck up her painting. She looks like she’s about to hit me when she gets up, so I quickly grab the portrait she made of me and sprint out, making my way to see Vidia as Lis yells from behind me.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Vidia

This deserves a drink.” Ilaugh at how excited Hazel is at the excuse to get drunk. I finish signing the last page and then hand it to the realtor.

“Congrats, this place is officially yours.” She hands me my keys, and I can’t help but smile. This place is twice as big as my last apartment, and it’s fully furnished, so it looks beautiful.

“Thank you.” I give her a small hug, and she walks out, leaving Hazel and I to my new apartment. I walk over to my new couch and flop down on it. It’s L-shaped and huge, so I’m obsessed.

Hazel takes a seat next to me and throws her feet over my legs. “Have you told Mr. Griffin about this?” I roll my eyes at her nickname for Sire.

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