“Sorry,” I told her with a shrug.
“Don’t be sorry. My sister, Bailey, and I are the same way when we get together,” Tristan replied. “Right now, she’s no fun because she just had triplets.”
“Oh my God,” Bee breathed out. “How is she even alive? I have one and don’t know how I stay sane.”
It was a lie. Bee was as perfect of a mother as she was at everything else in her life.
“Dani says you’ve been doing a lot of painting?” Gabi asked, turning the focus away from Bee, who would monopolize every conversation if she was allowed.
Tristan nodded. “Yeah. I’m slowly getting back into the swing of it while Hannah is asleep.”
“You should let me promote it on social media for you,” I told her. I had nothing better to do these days.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” Tristan replied just as Bee snorted and said, “That’s not a job, Dani.”
I bit my tongue and my urge to flip her off. Bee would never understand why I’d walked away from D.C. In her opinion, Whittakers didn’t quit; they only moved upward and onward.
“There’s a position open in marketing at DuPont,” Gabi said to me. “If you give me your résumé, I can make sure it gets to the right people.”
My stomach revolted. I had no desire to work with my sisters at DuPont. It would be high school all over again. Me following in their perfect footsteps. No, thank you. I was shaking my head no, but Bee was already all over it.
“I forgot about that position. It’s not entry-level, so I don’t know if they’d take you, but it doesn’t hurt to try,” Bee said.
I just stared at her. She thought I was only qualified for an entry-level position? I was the most senior staff member on Senator Matherton’s team, other than Granddad. I’d helped coordinate his staff, his campaign, and his legislative proposals. I’d juggled speech writers, secretaries, and even the volunteers during the election year. I’d hand-delivered key votes to his bills with my negotiation skills and nothing else.
“I’ll think about it, but it isn’t really what I’m looking for,” I said, biting my cheek because fighting with Bee was useless. My years of saying what I didn’t feel on The Hill paying off when I really wanted to give her a discourse on how much more I’d done than she probably ever would in her job in the DuPont legal department.
“You need something,” Bee insisted.
“I do, but it isn’t like I have to jump at the first job that comes my way,” I responded, getting more irritated as she wouldn’t let it drop.
“Leave her alone, Bee. Dani’s just regrouping herself,” Gabi said gently.
“Wait, is this about the attack?” Bee’s face slackened in surprise as my body cringed inwardly at her words. “Oh my God, that happened a year ago. None of you would let me sit around wallowing in it.”
Every inch of my body tightened. All the joints that had been loosening themselves up since coming home and doing nothing more than working out and watching TV were back on high alert. She was right and wrong. It wasn’t about Fenway. Fenway had just been the final card to bring the stack down.
“Jesus, Bee,” Gabi swore. “Finish your drink before you say something you’ll really regret.”
Bee flushed again. She didn’t even see what she’d said or done wrong. In her mind, she was just helping her little sister. It had been the way of things my entire life. In the end, I’d be the one feeling guilty even though it was her words that had started it all.
I took a deep breath, in and out. Calming myself. Feeling the smooth surface of the wood table. Feeling the press of my heels into the floor. Holding my tongue. Wanting to storm off. Wanting to tell Bee to go to hell. But I didn’t. Instead, I did what I was good at. I was flippant and sarcastic, and I made peace with a tease.
“Yeah, Bee, drink up. I need to get some new pictures of you singing George Michael’s “I Want Your?”
Bee reached up and covered my mouth. “We don’t talk about that either, Gooberpants.”
Gabi laughed, Tristan smiled, and the tightness in my chest eased. For better or worse, they were my sisters. They loved me, and in their hearts, they were looking out for me—even Bee, in her own twisted way.
Nash
21 GUNS
“When you're at the end of the road,
And you lost all sense of control,
And your thoughts have taken their toll.
