Too Good to Be True - Kristan Higgins [133]
“Well, you know, it really sucked,” I admitted. It was a relief to say the words.
“Are you mad at me?” Two tears slipped down her cheeks.
“No,” I assured her. Then I reconsidered. “Well…not anymore. I tried not to be. I was more mad at Andrew, to be honest, but yeah, part of me was just screaming. It wasn’t fair.”
“Grace, you know you’re my favorite person in the world. The last person I’d ever willingly hurt. I never meant to. I never wanted to. I hated that I fell for Andrew. I hated it.” She was crying harder now.
I slipped my arm around her, pulling her so that our heads touched as we sat, side by side, not looking at each other. I didn’t like to have my sister crying, but maybe she just needed to. And maybe I needed to see it. “Well,” I admitted softly, “it hurt. Quite a bit. I didn’t want you to know it. But I’m over that now. I really am.”
“Making up Wyatt…” Her voice trailed off. “I think that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me. And man, I jumped all over that.” She gave a grim laugh. “I kind of suspected he wasn’t real, you know. You had me up until the bit about the feral cats.” She grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “I know.”
Nat sighed. “I guess I didn’t want to know the truth.” We were quiet for a moment. “You know, Grace,” she said softly, “you don’t have to watch out for me anymore. You don’t have to protect me from every sad emotion.”
“Well,” I said, my own eyes filling. “I kind of do. That’s my job. I’m your big sister.”
“Forget the job,” she suggested, reaching out to tuck a wayward strand of frizz behind my ear. “Forget that you’re the big sister. Let’s just be plain old sisters. Equals, okay?”
I looked into the blue, clear sky. Ever since I was four, I’d been watching out for Natalie, admiring her, protecting her. It might be nice, just…just liking her. Instead of adoration, friendship. Equals, like she said.
“Like Margaret,” I mused.
“Oh, God, don’t be like Margaret!” she blurted with mock earnestness, and we both burst into laughter. Then Nat opened her purse and handed me a tissue—of course, she was armed with a cunning little tissue pack with roses on the cover—and we sat for another minute, listening to the mockingbird, holding hands.
“Grace?” she said eventually.
“Yeah?”
“I really liked Callahan.”
Hearing that was like pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurt. It did. “Me, too,” I whispered. She squeezed my hand and had the sense not to say anything else. After a moment, I cleared my throat and glanced around at the restaurant. “Want to get back?”
“Nah,” she said. “Let everyone wonder. Maybe we could fake a cat fight, just for fun.”
I laughed. My Nattie of old. “I missed you,” I admitted.
“I missed you, too. It’s been so hard, wondering if you’re really as okay as you seemed, but afraid to ask. And I’ve been jealous, you know. You and Margs, living together.”
“Oh, well, then, you can take her. You and Andrew,” I said. “For as long as you want.”
“He wouldn’t survive the week.” She grinned.
“Nattie,” I said slowly, “about us being equals…” She nodded encouragingly. “I want you to do me a favor, Nat.”
“Anything,” she said.
I turned a little to better face her. “Nat, I don’t want to be maid of honor tomorrow. Let it be Margaret. I’ll be your bridesmaid, go down the aisle and all that, but not maid of honor. It’s too weird, okay? A little pimp-ish, you know?”
“Okay,” she said instantly. “But make sure Margaret doesn’t roll her eyes and make faces.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t guarantee anything,” I said with a laugh. “But I’ll try.”
Then I stood up and pulled my little sister to her feet. “Let’s go back, okay? I’m starving.”
We held hands all the way back to our table. Mom hopped up like an anxious sparrow when she saw us. “Girls! Is everything all right?”
“Yes,