I fussed with the edge of my napkin and tried not to feel guilty. It was tricky. I had a lot of things to feel guilty about. Number one on that list was either making out with Hunter after I’d sworn that I wouldn’t get in the way of his and Paige’s budding relationship, or else it was all the things I could vaguely remember telling Chuck last night—I just hoped I hadn’t told him any more things that I now forgot. And I hoped he’d been as drunk as me. With any luck, he wouldn’t remember a thing.

Unfortunately, Paige was unlikely to ever get drunk enough to forget that she had been dating Hunter Knox, so I’d decided that my first stop on the damage control tour was going to be brunch at our favorite local diner, where I’d break the news to her as gently as I could, and hope she could find it in her heart to forgive me.

A waiter nearly dropped my coffee cup onto the saucer and I winced, pain lancing through my head.

It was super not helping my damage control tour planning that I was hungover as hell. Every time I tried to think of how I’d start the conversation, something—usually mind-boggling pain—would distract me.

“Ally!”

I looked up, trying to grin at Paige in an ‘I don’t feel like a dentist’s drill is going through my skull’ sort of way.

“Hey, Paige.”

She looked great, rested and content and glowing with new love in a pair of comfy jeans and a soft pink cardigan. Guilt turned over in my stomach, more painful than the hangover.

What I was about to say would probably wipe that happy smile right off her face.

Before I could even get started, though, the waiter swooped over, probably drawn by the glow of Paige’s contentment. “And what can I get you two ladies?”

“Stack of pancakes with strawberry syrup and whipped cream, a side of bacon extra well done, and a mint chocolate chip milkshake, please,” Paige said with a chipper grin, which only increased my trepidation. Paige only risked our mother’s wrath with a calorie-loaded meal like that when she was feeling on top of the world.

“Just more water and some dry toast, thanks,” I muttered, digging through my purse and wishing desperately that a bottle of ibuprofen would appear in the bottom. No dice. Of course not.

“Is something wrong?” Paige asked. “Did you lose your phone, or—?”

“Nope,” I grumbled, setting my purse back on the seat. “I’m fine.”

After the waiter was gone, there was an awkward silence that was probably less than five seconds, but that my guilt managed to stretch into eons.

“Ally, honestly, what’s bothering you?” Paige’s voice was concerned now. “Usually when we’re here, I can’t get you to stop raving about the waffles.”

“The waffles are still rave-worthy,” I said.

“Or else you’d be ranting about work,” Paige went on with a fond smile. “All the injustices and slights you’re fighting uphill against, but how it’ll all be worth it someday.”

“Didn’t realize I was such a predictable conversationalist,” I said awkwardly.

“No, no, I like hearing you talk about work!” Paige said quickly. “I’ve always admired how hard you fight—is that it? Did something really bad happen at your job?”

“No, no,” I said before she could get too worried about me and twist the guilt-knife in my gut any further. “Nothing bad. Something kind of good, actually. For me.”

Paige’s forehead creased slightly. “What’s the problem, then?”

“Good…for me,” I repeated. “Maybe not so good for you. Um…Hunter. Well. He kissed me. I kissed him. We kissed. I’m so sorry—”

Paige laughed.

My head snapped up, indignation fighting for space alongside the guilt and rapidly winning. “I’m serious, Paige. It’s the truth! I wouldn’t lie about—”

“Of course you wouldn’t!” Paige said, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you at all, Ally—well, not for that. Just for thinking you could hide something from your big sister. I could tell you liked him. We weren’t really dating.”

I gaped, unable to contemplate a reality in which people cheerfully decided not to date Hunter Knox. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Paige assured me. “To tell the truth, I only went along with the whole thing to keep Mom happy and off my back for awhile. I was never interested in Hunter; he’s not even remotely my type.”

I snorted in shocked disbelief. “How is that man not anyone’s type?”

“Well…” Paige smiled a secretive, happy little smile. “…you remember Sergei?”

“Vaguely?” I remembered some Russian guy from Paige’s college art courses: tall, skinny, androgynous; deep soulful brown eyes but couldn’t grow a beard if his life depended on it, and a build that reminded me of nothing so much as a collection of coat hangers strung together tenuously. “Well, different strokes for different folks, I guess.”

“Oh, stroking has been happening, all right,” Paige said in a low voice with a wicked grin that seemed imported from an alternate universe, not native to the face of my famously dependable and well-behaved older sister.

“Uh, what?” I said, an answering grin beginning to steal across my face.

Paige lowered her voice. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course!”

That wicked grin widened, and she let out a little giggle. “I’ve been seeing him again! Under the Mom-radar, of course. He’s painting me,” she sighed.

My mouth fell open wide enough to catch every last fly in the universe. “No way!”

Paige nodded, the cat that got the cream. “Yep. Hunter was actually helping out.”

“Seriously?” I asked again.

“True story. That guy’s a total romantic; I explained about Sergei, and he came right out and offered to invite me on dates and then drop me off at Serge’s apartment. He’d drive off to the library to do research and come back a couple hours later.”

My heart squeezed tight in my chest. Damn, but I had fallen into bed with a nice guy that night at the hotel.

“It was pretty obvious he was hung up on someone too,” Paige went on. “Then I saw you two together, and—well. I can put a puzzle together when it’s that easy.”

I was so relieved I couldn’t believe it; all the tension that had lived in my shoulders and back for so long had fled, and I felt like without it I might collapse. “Oh my God, Paige, I’m so happy I can’t even—and I’m so happy for you!”

“And Sergei’s been helping me get back into the art scene,” Paige confided. “In fact, some people want me to do a show at Blackbird, you know that little gallery downtown?”

“Do I know it? The place you’ve been pining to do a show at since you were seventeen? Of course I do!” I was so proud and happy I could burst. I wanted to grab her hands and swing her around in a circle. “Oh man, you are a superhero.” Then a thought occurred to me. “So wait, all that party planning and socialite stuff—”

“Oh, I’ve been having to do all that too,” Paige said. “You know Mom would’ve smelled a rat if I’d let any of it slide. And of course I’ll keep helping out with the Knox stuff even after I tell Mom; it’s the least I can do for you. Plus, I really love it. I do.”

“See previous statement about superheroics, times a billion,” I said.

“Thanks, Ally. I don’t always feel that way.” Paige’s lower lip wobbled slightly; her eyes took on the slightest sheen of unshed tears. “I’ve been under her heel so long, sometimes I forget that it’s actually my life. I let her take over. You were so smart to move out when you did, get yourself out from under her thumb. I’ve been thinking about doing the same. So I can start doing things my way.”

I restrained myself from leaping up and doing a victory dance; I didn’t want to scare her off. Instead I asked, “Are you moving in with Sergei?”

Paige shook her head regretfully. “No. It’s tempting—Lord, is it tempting—but I have to stand on my own two feet first.” She looked determined, and then she sighed. “It’s hard work, though. I’ve been looking at apartment listings, trying to work out a budget I can live on with my salary, but everything is so overwhelming.”

“I’ll help you!” I volunteered.

Paige’s face lit, then fell again. “But you’re so busy. I couldn’t impose.”

I took her hand and squeezed it. “Hey, anything for my big sister. Especially anything for a big sister like you.”

And then tears really did well up in Paige’s eyes, and she stood, pulling me toward her to envelop me in a great big bear hug that warmed me to my bones.

So that was one source of guilt resolved.

How much trouble could the next one cause?

(Ever hear the phrase ‘famous last words’?)