There is nothing on TV.

I flip back and forth through our only three channels, curling my lip with more disgust at each pause. It’s either a praise Jesus sermon, Casablanca, or golf. I go for option four and flick off the remote.

Renee’s fashion magazines fan out on the coffee table. I scoop one off the top and move over to the polka dot couch, sinking into the well-worn cushions. Gwen Stefani stares at me from the cover of People, posing for the cameras in a sleek black gown that slits all the way to the top of her thigh.

It looks like something Renee would design—though with more color.

I glance over at the row of mannequins lined up by the window, each in a new Renee original. It must be weird when people look up at our suite, seeing the same girls in the same positions day after day.

At least they’re not in the closet anymore. One nightmare too many, as far as I’m concerned.

My cell rings, causing me to startle.

I look at the caller ID and smile. “Hi Mom,” I say by way of greeting.

“Olivia?” Her warm voice worms through the line and tugs at my heartstrings, immediately making me long for home. Since Renee moved in, I haven’t called much. Maybe she’d be fine with her living here—she claims to have no grudge against my sister—but it’s not a topic I’m itching to tackle. Nor is the subject of Mason.

“Why do you always ask?” I say, grinning. “The odds of it being anyone else are staggeringly low.”

She laughs, making me miss her even more. For the first few years after Dad left, Mom didn’t smile often. Laughter, as it turns out, isn’t always the best medicine. Especially when the patient is unwilling to give it a chance.

I get it. Dad was the love of her life.

But he’s gone now, and eventually that has to sink in.

“Someone else could have possibly answered,” she says.

“Like who? The maid?”

Her voice perks up. “Olivia! You can afford a housekeeper?”

Trust Mom to believe the most ridiculous things. People prey on that kind of naivety, she should know. Dad was the worst vulture in the bunch.

I survey the dusty shelves and unwashed dishes in the sink. “If I’m paying one, she isn’t doing a great job.”

Despite the unkempt state of my apartment, I’d never spend money on someone to clean it. I make a great salary at Daylight Holdings, but I know better than to spend without thought. I’m building a nest egg. Enough money to pay for five months of bills should Mason choose to terminate my contract for any reason. I learned that from Dad, who felt a person should always have six months’ worth of living expenses in the bank at all times. A rainy day fund.

Or in his case, an “I have to support my family” fund.

Because that’s exactly what he took from the joint account when he walked out on me and Mom. I shake loose the bitterness. “Anyway, I was being sarcastic.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you, I’d forgotten what you sound like.”

Zing! I grip the phone tighter. “Now who’s being sarcastic?”

“Tell me everything that’s been happening for you lately,” she says. “Leave nothing out, especially not the part where Renee is living with you. Are things going well for you two?”

My heart stutters. “Who told you? Was it Renee?”

“It should have been you,” she says, quiet, but with an edge of annoyance that takes me back to my childhood. Mom never got mad, not even when I fucked up. She just got disappointed, which is way worse. “You know I’ve always liked her.”

Not true.

Mom never could look Renee in the eye—said she reminded her of “the other woman.” It doesn’t matter that she shares the same eyes as me and Dad, she shares nothing of my Mom, and while she may have accepted the affair and doesn’t mean to punish Renee, there’s a quiet hatred that simmers just under the surface of her practiced tolerance.

“Well, since you know about Renee, you’re all caught up,” I fib. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a soda, and then settle back into the couch. “It’s good living with her,” I say finally, which is the truth. “She’s at a fashion event today.”

“On a Sunday?”

I grin at Mom’s shock. “New York doesn’t sleep.”

“Right,” she says, her voice drifting.

Okay, now I know something’s going on. “Spill it, Mom. This is definitely not a checking in call.”

“It was,” she says, but then adds coyly, “Of course, I do have some news.”

A cough in the background makes me tense. It’s definitely male—and somehow familiar. “Mom, do you have the TV on?” I can feel dread unfurling from my core. With a shaky hand, I set down my glass, and curl my knees up to my chest. “Mom?”

“Liv, I want you to listen,” Mom says.

My pulse ratchets up. Blood rushes to my head, making me dizzy. “He’s there, isn’t he?”

She sighs. “Yes, but…”

Heat spreads up the side of my neck. I clutch my hand into a fist. “Why is Dad at the house?”

Our house.

He should be in Oregon with his Renee’s mother, not back with Mom, twisting her emotions into knots. Damn him.

“We’re reconciling,” she says. “Isn’t that wonderful?”

Bile begins to creep up my throat. I take a sip of soda. Fuck. I’m going to need something a little stronger. Vodka. Whiskey. Maybe even the bottle of tequila Renee has stashed at the back of the cupboard for a special occasion.

Shit. Renee. Does she know?

Of course not.

If she did, it would be big news and I’d have heard as well.

I quickly check my cell phone, positive I must have some text from her, but the screen is blank.

My voice goes cold. “Wonderful isn’t quite the word I’d use.”

In fact, my parents reconciling is the exact opposite of wonderful. Because not only is my father a scoundrel, a bottom feeding cad--he’s a lying, cheating asshole about to break another woman’s heart. Not to mention Renee’s.

I’m pissed.

And scared.

Because no text from Renee means she doesn’t know, and this phone call is my father’s subtle way of manipulating me into breaking the news to her.

She’ll be crushed.

Renee and I avoid the topic of Dad like it’s the bubonic plague.

I’m convinced that careful avoidance is the secret to our half-sister sibling success.

But even I know she worships him. Renee is daddy’s girl—has been since he first held her in his arms. I don’t know that he ever looked at me the way he stared at her, his eyes glistening with tears. A humbled man.

Mom and I never saw that.

Over the years, I just accepted it. Everything happens for a reason, and maybe Renee needed a dad more—even if he was mine first. I was letting go, had let go. And now—

No. I’m not willing to let him back in.

“I understand this is difficult to accept right now,” Mom says. She keeps talking, but her voice turns to white noise, drowned out by thoughts of Renee’s anguish, the tears I know she’s going to cry.

“Your father is the love of my life,” Mom is saying now. “We belong together, Liv. Can’t you see?”

I really can’t.

“And if we can work this out—if I can forgive and forget—maybe someday, you can too?”

The tears I’ve been holding break free. I swipe at my eyes with the back of my hand. “No, Mom. I don’t ever think I can.”

I hang up before she can respond.