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“What’s the matter with you?” Gulliver asks. “What the fuck is going on?”
Ignoring him, I keep my eyes fixed on our front door through the car window, feeling like I can feel my parents’ eyes boring into me even from this distance.
“Izabella, fucking answer me,” Gulliver growls, grabbing my arm roughly and demanding my attention.
“I don’t have any answers for you,” I admit, my voice so quiet I can barely hear myself. My car door opens, and Mark’s worry-filled eyes find mine. “Miss Rhodes, Mr. Winslow,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say, pulling my arm from Gulliver’s hold and sliding out of the car. Gulliver immediately follows me, and I hear the car door close behind him as I pull in a deep breath and stride purposefully to the front door.
It swings open before I reach it, and Mrs. Humphries greets me, her normally tight smile barely perceptible and giving way to slack-jawed shock when she sees who’s with me. “Miss.” She stops herself before Izabella falls from her lips. “Miss Rhodes, welcome home. I didn’t realize we were expecting company. Mr. Winslow,” she says smoothly, nodding her head once at Gulliver before turning her attention back to me. “Your parents,” she starts.
I hear the angry stomping of heels along the marble floor before I spot my mother marching toward me. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” she hisses as she appears in the hallway, her lips pursed in an angry snarl.
Almost skidding to a stop, she takes in me and then Gulliver, who is now standing at my side, and the snarl evaporates from her lips and morphs into a glorious smile. “Penelope, darling, you didn’t tell me you were bringing Gulliver home with you. What a wonderful surprise,” she coos, sounding every bit the loving mother.
Gliding straight over to Gulliver, she leans in and peppers a kiss against his cheek, her hand pressed lightly against his chest. “Gulliver, it’s so lovely to see you again. Penelope is such a tease for not telling me you were coming.”
I try not to look, I really do, but I can’t help tilting my head so I can see the expression on Gulliver’s face. For a moment, I wonder if he’ll just forget that I’m not my sister. Mom called me Penelope so effortlessly that it’d be easy to believe whatever story she’s about to give him, but instead his eyes find mine.
“Well, I’m sure if Penelope knew I was here, she would have told you, but as I’m not with her, I’m with Izabella, that’s probably why you weren’t expecting me,” Gulliver says calmly, tilting his head to the side as he turns his heated gaze back to my mom.
Impressively, Mom doesn’t show even a glimmer of recognition at my name or at the fact that Gulliver clearly knows that I’m not my sister. Instead, she throws back her head and laughs. “Gulliver, oh my goodness, what a joke. Who on earth is Izabella?” Then she turns to me and smiles a smile that’s full of amusement. “Penelope, what kind of games are you playing with poor Gulliver?”
Gulliver’s expression falters for a second, right up until the moment my sister yells from the top of the stairs.
“Is she back? Has she explained why she would be such a selfish little bitch?”
Mom exhales a sharp breath and closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she looks at me and shakes her head, as if this mess and subterfuge are all my fault. “Penelope, come down here, please. Gulliver’s here to see you.”
8
GULLIVER
Abark of bitter laughter bursts from my lips as Penelope saunters down the stairs, all arrogant confidence and grace, so different from the aura that’s emanating from the girl at my side. I take a second to stare at her as she approaches, then look down at Izabella. They’re absolutely identical. Same height, same face, same body, even down to the same hairstyle and makeup. The only difference between them is their body language, which is the polar opposite from each other.
“Penelope,” I say in greeting when she sees me standing next to her twin.
Her lips part, but before she can say anything, I interrupt. “So, you have a twin, an identical twin?”
“Perhaps we should go to the sitting room. It’s a little more civilized than out here in the foyer,” Mrs. Rhodes purrs, all familiar cordiality.
Penelope glides over to me, pushing herself between me and her sister, and she slides her arm through mine and pulls me along beside her. For a few steps, I let her guide me, until I realize that Izabella isn’t following us, in fact, she’s walking in the other direction toward the stairs.
“Izabella,” I call.
Her feet stop moving, but she doesn’t turn to look at me.
“Don’t worry about her. She doesn’t need to be involved,” Mrs. Rhodes says dismissively, like her other daughter is a nonentity that can be completely ignored.
“The hell she doesn’t,” I snarl. “I want her in there with us while you explain what the hell is going on and why I had no idea that you have two children.”
Mrs. Rhodes sighs like I’m being an irritating child. “Fine. Izabella.”
“I’ll just get changed out of my uniform,” Izabella says, her voice quiet and meek.
“If you’re not back down here in five minutes, I’m going to come looking for you,” I snap, annoyed that she’s leaving and honestly not at all convinced that I’ll ever see her again if I let her go.
Penelope tuts in annoyance, then doubles her efforts to move me out of the hallway and into the sitting room. But my eyes are focused on Izabella as she silently darts away. When she’s out of view, I extricate myself from Penelope’s touch and stride into the sitting room, lowering myself into a chair facing the door.
