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Once I’ve collected our food, we drive the rest of the way to the marina in tense silence. Every ounce of rebellion has dissolved from Penelope, and she’s stiff, her posture so rigid that her spine isn’t even resting against the back of the seat. Penelope doesn’t wait for me to open her car door when I pull into my space in the marina parking lot. She primly climbs out of the car the moment the engine cuts off, waiting silently for me to lead the way to my boat. Despite the shopping and the stop for food, it’s only just after seven, and the marina is quiet and empty, except for a few early risers getting ready to make the most of a full day on the water.
Neither of us speaks as I carry the bags of food and drinks and lead the way across the lot to the jetty where my yacht is moored. Handing the bags of food to Penelope, I slide the gangplank down and secure it in place, then take the food back from her and gesture for her to lead the way.
More confidently than I expect, she climbs aboard and waits for me on the deck. “Inside or out?” I ask.
“Would anyone be able to hear us if we sat outside?” she questions, her voice weak.
“Depending on the way the wind is blowing, the people on the closest boats might be able to. Inside would definitely be more private.”
“Inside then, please. I’d rather no one overhear us,” she whispers, darting her gaze from side to side as if she’s wondering who could be listening to us right now.
Nodding, I pull my keys from my pocket and quickly unlock the door, gesturing for her to go inside. I love this yacht, it’s my escape, my freedom, and the thing that makes me happiest in the world. My parents and brother are awesome, but they all suffer from serious wanderlust. Spending more than a few months in one place has them itching for the next big adventure. They always want to try a new town or country, and as a kid, that meant me and my brother packing up and going with them every time they decided to move. When I started high school at Green Acres Academy, I put my foot down and refused to drop everything and travel with them at their whims. This boat is my only throwback to that transient life. It’s rare that I miss the freedom of traveling, but when I do, I hoist the sails and lose myself in the limitless nature of the ocean for a few hours.
Unlike some of the kids at school, I don’t use my yacht as a place to hold parties or bring girls here to fuck them. This is my private space, and until Gulliver brought Izzy out to sail with us, my family and the guys were the only people to step aboard—apart from my crew.
In such a short amount of time, Izzy has become the sister I never had. She’s so resilient and just fucking awesome to be around. I love her, and even more, I love her for Gulliver, they’re so perfect for each other, and even though we’re young, I really can see them going the distance.
Izzy and Penelope might be twins, but I’m reminded once again that Penelope isn’t her sister when she sits primly down on one of the couches. I can’t explain it, but even though it shouldn’t, it feels okay to have Princess here with me, and I don’t really understand why. Maybe I’m forgetting who she is because of how different she looks right now.
Clearing my throat, I turn away from her and busy myself emptying the bags of food out onto the table. Opening each of the lids, I reveal eggs, crispy bacon, pancakes, hash browns, breakfast casserole, steak, toast, and some fruit salad. Taking the overly sweet coffee I ordered for her, I hand it to her, then slide the two cups of juice onto the table beside the food.
“Can you demean yourself and eat out of the boxes?” I ask sarcastically.
“The coffee is fine,” she says, eyeing the cup like it’s going to bite her.
“I’ll get you a plate,” I sigh.
“No, really…” She trails off when she realizes I’m ignoring her.
Heading into the galley, I grab plates, silverware, and napkins, then make my way back into the living room. “Do you want some of everything?” I ask, poised to add whatever she picks onto her plate for her.
“I can’t…” Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head.
“Why not?” I ask.
As I watch, an all-too-familiar sneer curls up the corners of her lips, disguising the panic that was all over her features only seconds ago. “I don’t eat anything that’s not organic, I follow a strict macrobiotic diet,” she snaps, her tone derisive.
If I hadn’t seen the transformation for myself, I’d probably have assumed she was just being a snobby bitch right now. I don’t know how I know everything she’s saying, and the way she’s acting is a lie, but I know it is. Something about the food or eating is making her panic, and her way of dealing with that is to fall back on her superior attitude. Only this time, I’m not fooled.
“Lie,” I growl.
“Excuse me?” she asks, arching her perfectly shaped eyebrow imperiously at me.
“Everything you just said was a lie, Princess. So why don’t you try again? And I want the truth this time. Why can’t you eat this food?” I demand, my voice steely and cold.
“I just can’t,” she snaps, lifting her coffee to her lips, then lowering it back to the table without taking a sip.
“Do you have allergies? Are you a vegan?”
She parts her lips, but before she speaks, I already know that anything she says is going to be a lie.
“No. I want the truth,” I snap, losing patience.
“I’m not allowed to eat any of this,” she whispers, her eyes downcast like she can’t be both honest and look at me at the same time.
“Why? Because your mom told you you can’t have carbs?” I ask with a snicker. The silence that follows is telling, and I can’t help but shake my head in disgust. Stabbing a forkful of pancake, I dip it into the pot of maple syrup and hold it up to Penelope’s lips. “Eat,” I order.
“There’s between one hundred and fifty and two hundred calories in that pancake. I can’t eat that,” she whisper-yells, her eyes wide like a frightened animal.
