Page 52 of None Of Your Business

“You’re not killing yourself over this show, are you? Because if it gets too much, nobody’s going to care if you postpone it.”

“That’s comforting.” The words are dry, but something in her voice isn’t.

“You know what I mean.”

I let out a slow, silent breath and take in my surroundings.

There are paintings here, naturally. A small, unframed canvas hangs above her bed, layered in deep blues. Anywhere else, I might’ve walked straight past it. Here, I already know I’ll be thinking about it for weeks. A dark denim jacket hangs over a chair. On her nightstand sit two battered paperbacks.

How the fuck did I get to this point in my life? Hiding in a twenty-six-year-old painter’s bedroom because she panicked, and I completely forgot how to say no to her.

From the kitchen, the low murmur of their voices continues, followed by Rowan laughing at something her sister said.

I stand still in the quiet room, my eyes fixed on the blue canvas, waiting.

Fifteen

Rowan

There’s a six-foot-three psychiatrist currently locked in my bedroom.

It’s not a sentence I ever anticipated incorporating into my Wednesday morning routine, but life is funny like that.

The door is shut. Good.

Hudson is behind it. Also good.

The fact that I shoved him in there with both hands and hissed at him not to breathe is less good, but I’ll deal with the moral implications of holding a doctor hostage later.

“Are you sure you got your head checked out? You hate urgent care,” Piper says, sitting on the sofa.

“I also hate brain bleeds,” I reply dryly. “Standard head injury protocol, Pipes. They checked my eyes, told me I have a thick skull, and sent me home. I’m fine.”

Piper turns, her eyes sweeping over me. Madison assesses your flaws out loud, and Noah asks direct questions, but Piper lets you wonder how much of your soul she’s reading.

Suddenly, I’m hyperaware that Hudson is standing on the other side of my drywall.

I love my sister, but I need to get rid of her.

“You’re being weird,” she says.

“I am?”

“You’re jittery.” She studies me for another long minute before she puts me out of my misery and moves on. “Anyway, I brought these. Madison dropped them off at my apartment last night and told me we have twenty-four hours to render a verdict.”

She reaches into the bag and pulls out three strips of fabric, spreading them across the coffee table.

I stare at them. “What are those?”

“Swatches for bridesmaid dresses.”

Yeah, let’s just sit here and discuss bridesmaid dresses like I’m not currently dying inside.

“Oh.” I ease myself into the armchair across from her.

Piper holds up a swatch. “Madison likes this blush one.”

“Nice.”