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I don’t know anything about Penelope’s personal life or if she’s ever had a real boyfriend. She and Gulliver could have been fucking like rabbits for the last year, and I wouldn’t have a clue because the only time my sister speaks to me is when she’s ordering me to attend a class, or take a test, or write an assignment for her.
It doesn’t matter that I’m her sister or her twin, she treats me more like an employee, just someone at her disposal to live her life when she doesn’t want to.
I startle when Beth appears silently at my side and hands me a glass of champagne. “Thank you,” I whisper as she silently moves away, distributing drinks to everyone else before melting from the room without making a sound. The champagne is disgusting, but I sip at it, grateful that the glass gives me something to do with my hands.
No one bothers to speak to me, and I’m grateful for the reprieve, but more than once I catch Gulliver’s assessing eyes on me and instinctively roll my shoulders back, fighting my natural instinct to cower away from anyone who might look at me and see my sister.
It feels like hours later when Beth reappears and announces that dinner is ready. Mr. Winslow moves to my mother’s side, offering her his arm, which she happily accepts. I wait for my dad to come to escort me, but he takes my mom’s free arm, and the three of them stride away without even glancing in my direction.
Panic fills me when Gulliver moves toward me, his expression bored and disinterested. Taking my half-full champagne glass, he deposits it on a side table and curls his fingers around my now-empty hand, urging me to my feet. “Miss Rhodes,” he purrs sardonically, seamlessly feeding my arm through his until we’re mimicking our parents and he’s leading me out of the room.
My heart beats faster and faster as I wait for him to say something. Judging by the way he looked at me earlier, he either hates my sister or he knows I’m not her. I’m not sure which would be worse. Opening my lips, I start to speak, but no words come out, because what would I even say? I can’t ask him anything that I should already know the answer to. I can’t hint that I’m not who I’m pretending to be.
Instead, I stay quiet and let him guide me to my seat. Like a gentleman, he pulls out the chair for me, then carefully pushes it beneath me before he takes the seat immediately to my right and slides into it with a polished air that speaks of hundreds of dinners just like this.
This isn’t my first fancy dinner, either. As children, Penelope and I were dressed in pretty, matching clothes and dragged to plenty of stuffy restaurants and business events when my father wanted to remind his associates that he had the perfect wife and family. Sometimes I wonder how it is that all of the people I’ve met over the years have just forgotten that I exist. How they’ve so easily overlooked the other daughter who, for fourteen years, was the fourth member of our family.
Beth and a second liveried server move around the room, draping crisp white napkins in our laps as food is presented before us. This is probably the fanciest meal I’ve had in years, but I don’t enjoy it. I toy with the food on my plate as my stomach threatens to revolt, my nerves completely dissolving my appetite as I wait for someone to call me out for my subterfuge.
But no one does. Each course is delivered, then removed and replaced with the next, while conversation goes on around me.
“How’s school, Penelope?” Mr. Winslow asks me, shocking me enough that my head snaps up and I feel my eyes go wide.
Mom’s pointed stare jolts me to answer. “It’s going great, thank you, Mr. Winslow. I’m still on target to graduate summa cum laude.”
“Penelope, really, I think it’s about time you started calling me Donovan. I mean, we’re practically family after all,” he says, darting his gaze suggestively to Gulliver, then back to me. “Where are you planning to attend next year? With grades like yours, you’ll have your pick of schools.”
Holy crap, did Penelope and Gulliver get engaged and no one told me? Surely if they had, I’d know, wouldn’t I?
Swallowing thickly, I glance at my mom, because I have no idea what college Penelope plans to attend, and honestly, as long as it’s not the same one as me, I don’t care. My family’s reign of tyranny ends the moment I graduate, because it’ll be impossible to hide my existence at any of the Ivy League schools. That’s why I plan to flee to England where I don’t know anyone, and more importantly, no one knows me.
“I haven’t made any firm decisions yet,” I say noncommittally.
“Gulliver will be attending Cornell, won’t you?” Mr. Winslow says, turning his head to look proudly at his son.
“Yes, sir,” Gulliver replies.
“Cornell is on your shortlist too, isn’t it, darling” Mom says to me, smiling brightly as she reaches over and pats Gulliver’s arm.
I’m not sure if I’m the only one who sees Gulliver cringe, but when he notices me looking at him, his eyes narrow suspiciously. If he and my sister are engaged, he doesn’t look particularly pleased about it. Maybe he has a girlfriend—someone he loves—and this forced alliance is ruining it.
“You’re a Cornell man, aren’t you, Barnaby?” Mr. Winslow asks my father, diverting the conversation away.
I don’t bother to listen to his reply. All of my attention is focused on the boy beside me and the suspicious way he’s looking at me. I don’t know if Gulliver hates my sister, really wants to fuck her, or thinks she’s so insignificant that all he feels toward her is complete and total disinterest. But regardless of how he feels, I shouldn’t be here dealing with the intensity of it, Penelope should.
Three more courses are delivered as my parents chat easily with Mr. Winslow about Penelope and Gulliver’s futures like he and I aren’t even in the room. The moment Mom mentions wedding venues, I look to Gulliver, expecting to find him as horrified by the topic of conversation as I am, but he just appears resigned and disinterested, like his future is none of his concern.
Is this what all of the events Penelope attends are like? Parents discussing their sons marrying my sister without including her in the conversation? If it is, no wonder she decided to bail tonight. For a second, I almost feel sorry for her, but then I remember that tonight I’ve been slapped and pushed and forced to pretend to be her. If she doesn’t want this life, she needs to do something to change it.
Glancing at the clock, I count down each minute that passes, ready to get this dinner over and done with and go home. This isn’t my world, and for the first time, I’m truly grateful to be the daughter that no longer exists. Because I’d rather be invisible than have to deal with a future full of obligation without choice or emotion.
When the dessert plates have been removed, I exhale a silent breath of relief. There’s only coffee left, then this charade will be done with and this farce of a life can go back to being Penelope’s problem. I don’t care what my parents want, I can’t do this again. I won’t do this again. I am not my sister, and it’s time everyone remembered that.
“Shall we have coffee in the living room?” Mr. Winslow suggests, a wide smile on his face.
“Lovely,” Mom gushes enthusiastically, looking at me pointedly.
When I rise to my feet, all of the men follow suit. Swinging her hips provocatively, Mom sways over to Mr. Winslow and curls her arm through his. Just like on the way into dinner, Dad takes her other side, leaving me with Gulliver.
