My face flushes. “What do you mean, ‘ridiculous’? I told her she could go.”
His eyes turn into slits. “So?” he says, then turns to Nonny. “You don’t get to go because you don’t deserve it.”
“Elliot…” She’s pale now. “What are you talking about?”
I open my mouth, about to defend Nonny, but Elliot raises a hand, cutting me off. His pitiless eyes are focused on her. “You don’t get to condemn the way your sister’s been providing for you, then turn around and ask her for money when it suits you. If you don’t approve of how she’s been taking care of you, do it yourself, but don’t you dare expect her to keep supporting you.”
Now she’s as red as an overripe berry. She stares at him, and although her mouth parts, no sound comes out. Unshed tears glisten in her eyes, and I turn to Elliot.
“You don’t get to talk to her that way,” I say, suddenly furious at his unreasonable harshness. I’m not thrilled that she’s still upset with me, but strong-arming her isn’t the way to fix what’s wrong between us. Besides, if I weren’t going to pay for her trips and so on, I wouldn’t have agreed to his marriage contract in the first place. Actually, none of this would’ve come about, since I would’ve never taken money from Mr. Grayson and I would’ve never moved to L.A. and… God. I desperately rein in my rising emotions. Losing control won’t help.
“Actually, I do.” Elliot is implacable as he glares at me. “When we got married I became her guardian, too, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“But she’s just a kid. I promised she could go before you and I met.”
“Really?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Was she okay with where the money was coming from?”
“Elliot!”
“That’s enough.” His tone is hard enough to crack a rock. “I’m not going to sit back and watch her judge you anymore. I’m tired of discord in my home, and if you pay for the trip behind my back, I’m going to cut you off.” He stands abruptly, tossing his napkin by his empty plate. “Excuse me. I have a call to make.”
He stalks away into his office without a backward glance. The door slams behind him, making me flinch.
Nonny stares into her lap, her eyes teary. I go over to her and hold her limp hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll help you go.”
She finally looks at me. “Why would you want to?”
“Because you’re my sister.” When she keeps staring, I add wryly, “Do I need another reason?”
Her face crumbles, and tears flow freely down her flushed cheeks. I pull her closer and wrap an arm around her skinny shoulders. She may be fifteen, but she feels so much younger as she clutches me.
“Hey, it’s okay,” I say. “I’m going to make it okay.”
“You shouldn’t be saying that.” She sounds like a teeny foghorn as she tries to talk and cry at the same time against my shoulder. “I’m a mess.”
“What you are is a teenager, and teenagers tend to be…emotional.” And don’t I know it. My teen years were disastrous. Nonny’s a saint by comparison.
She pulls back and wipes her face with a napkin. “I keep telling myself I can be cool, you know? But I can’t.” Her fingers link together, and she stares at them. “I can’t figure out what I hate more—that I didn’t know…or that, if it weren’t for me, you would’ve never done it.”
Her voice breaks at the end, and my heart aches for my sister. “Nonny, it’s not your fault.” I hold her sweat-damp hands in mine. “Everybody has goals they want to achieve, and sometimes we have to do things that we might not otherwise. But that doesn’t mean the goals are bad. I wish I hadn’t had to take that stripper job, but I’m not going to be upset that I have you. You matter to me. You’re important—the only family I have left.”
She shakes her head. “You have Elliot, too, now.”
“He’s my husband, and sometimes marriages fall apart,” I say, since I can’t tell her our marriage came with an expiration date. “But you and me…we’re family. Forever. Nothing can change that.”
Tears running down her face in rivulets, she launches herself at me. I catch her and squeeze my eyes shut in gratitude. This is the longest we’ve ever been at odds, and I’m grateful things are going to be okay again.
I wipe her cheeks with a napkin. “Hey, before you get too comfortable, there’s something I need to say.”
“What is it?” She sniffs.
“There might be more, well, hateful stuff about me coming out. Kind of like the stripper thing.”
“What do you mean? Like what?”
“I don’t know, to be honest, but some people have a way of looking at everything through an ugly filter.”
“Why would they do that?”