Page 80 of Big Dick Energy

Standing on my front porch was… Davina.

Except it wasn't Davina, because Davina was in my kitchen wearing my shirt. But this woman had the same blonde hair, the same bone structure, the same stubborn set to her jaw. She was maybe an inch shorter, and her hair was shorter instead of Davina's longer waves. But the resemblance was uncanny.

She wore blue scrubs and looked at me with an expression that combined curiosity, assessment, and judgment.

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

She raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow. The exact same eyebrow raise Davina had when I said something stupid.

“Is my sister here?”

Sister. Right. Davina had mentioned a sister. My brain, which had apparently taken an unscheduled vacation to process the visual paradox in front of me, slowly began to reconnect to my mouth.

“I...” I blinked. Tried again. “You're...”

“Delilah Lawson.” She extended her hand. “Is she here?”

“Delilah?” Davina’s voice carried from behind me. I shifted in the doorway, flattening against the wall to get out of the way.

“So it is true?” Delilah scowled. “You got married and didn’t even tell your sister?”

Fuuuuccccckkkk….

“I was going to call you today,” Davina explained.

“Today,” Delilah screeched. “You got married when?” She looked up at me, then back to her sister. “Why not before you got married?”

“It’s complicated…” I started and stopped when she cut me the same look she’d been giving her sister.

“Complicated,” Delilah repeated, her voice climbing an octave. “I'm your sister.” Delilah's gaze swept from the dog to Davina's outfit, my shirt, bare legs, the evidence of a morning that had involved very little clothing, and her expression sharpened. “The sister you apparently forgot existed when you decided to elope with...” She gestured at me with a manicured hand. “Him.”

“His name is Dallas,” Davina said, a defensive edge creeping into her voice.

“I know his name. I've heard his name approximately seven thousand times over the last two years, usually preceded by phrases like cocky, arrogant, and my personal favorite, I'd rather eat glass.”

I grinned. “She said that?”

“Multiple times. With feeling.” Delilah crossed her arms over her chest in a move so identical to Davina's that I did a double-take. “So imagine my surprise when I woke up this morning to twenty-seven text messages, three missed calls, and an Instagram post announcing that my sister is married. To the glass-eating alternative.”

“Okay, in my defense…” Davina started.

“There is no defense. There is no universe in which there is a defense.” Delilah pushed past me into the house without waiting for an invitation. “You got married. In Vegas. To a man you have spent the last two years publicly eviscerating on your podcast.”

“I… It’s complicated.”

Delilah stopped in the middle of my living room, taking in the space. Her gaze landed on Karen, who had appeared on the back of my couch like a calico specter, watching the proceedings with an expression of supreme boredom.

Karen slow-blinked at Delilah, and she slow-blinked back. Some kind of understanding passed between them that I was pretty sure didn't bode well for me.

“So. Someone want to explain to me how we went from public evisceration to it’s complicated?”

I glanced at Davina. She glanced at me.

“Maybe we should sit down,” Davina suggested.

“Maybe you should start talking.”