Home > Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls #1)(3)

Bombshell (Whiskey Dolls #1)(3)
Author: Jessica Prince

I spun the wine glass by its stem, studying Tali’s profile as she stared off into space. “Have you said anything to him about it?”

“I would . . . if he was ever home long enough for me to instigate the conversation. Most nights he doesn’t get home until I’m already in bed, and on the nights he’s actually here at a reasonable time, he’s so damn tired he crashes right after dinner. Even when he’s here physically, he’s not present, and it’s starting to affect the kids. Matt’s starting to cling to me like he’s afraid I’m going to up and disappear like his dad. And Erika’s acting even more dramatic than usual, and she developed this attitude almost overnight. She jumped into that pre-teen emo phase a whole hell of a lot faster than I expected. She’s so damn moody all the time now. Everything I say or do is wrong.”

“Ah, I remember those day,” I lamented, sipping at my wine.

“Yeah, I do too,” Tali mumbled, “and I’m dreading the day she gets her first period.”

I leaned over, bumping my shoulder into my sister’s. “If she’s anything like you were when you got your first period, I’d maybe up the policy for fire damage.”

I finally got a smile out of her. Granted, it was a small one that didn’t come anywhere near her eyes, but it was still something.

She let out a defeated sigh while propping her elbow on the island and resting her chin in her hand. “We used to be good, Mar. Nick and I were a team. I don’t know when it changed, but I feel like I’m a single parent here, and I didn’t sign up for that.”

“I’m sorry, Tal.” My heart ached for my big sister. I’d have given anything to make things better for her, but unfortunately, that wasn’t up to me. That responsibility fell to Nick, and I hoped like hell he got his head out of his ass before it was too late. “I’m here for you, you know that. If you need anything, just pick up the phone and call me. Even if it’s to pawn your kids off on their awesome aunt for a few hours so you can have a break.”

She leaned over, resting her head on my shoulder. “Thanks, hon. But enough about me and the sad state of my marriage. What brought you by tonight?”

“I had that cooking class tonight and just thought I’d swing by on my way home.”

She perked up, sitting up straight so she could twist to face me. “That singles cooking class? How’d it go?”

“Well, the meal I made came out semi-edible, so I’d consider it a win.”

Tali narrowed her eyes, staring shrewdly. “Why do I get the feeling you’re leaving something out?”

I chewed on the corner of my bottom lip, contemplating my wine like it was the most interesting thing in the room before admitting, “Pierce Walton was also in the class.”

Her mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out like it was 1997 and I’d just told her all the members of the Backstreet Boys had been taking a cooking class for singles. “No way! Hotty Pants McDouchnozzle was in the class?”

My brows pinched together. “I thought we agreed his name was going to be Lord Stickuphisass Shithead, Duke of Assholedonia.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Tali said. “I forgot we changed it after binge watching Bridgerton. So, what did you say to the dickish Duke?”

“Nothing,” I answered on a scoff. “I didn’t say a damn word. I high-tailed it out of there before he saw me.”

“What? Why?” My sister widened her eyes, letting the disappointment shine through.

I swallowed some more wine as my brain flipped over to images of him from earlier that night. That stupid, silky-looking hair, those strong arms, the impeccably tailored clothes that highlighted his gross, sexy muscles perfectly. God, what a jerk!

“Because I have nothing to say to him,” I answered, hoping the blush I felt beneath my cheeks wasn’t making itself known on my skin. “It’s not like we really know each other. We hardly ever talked the whole time Frank and I were dating. I don’t even know if he’s aware we broke up.”

Tali’s face crumbled into a sever scowl. “You think he knows his brother is an abusive son of a bitch who deserves to burn in hell?”

To say my sister had been pissed off when she found out I’d been keeping the fact that my ex had a habit of leaving his marks on me whenever he got pissed—and he got pissed a lot, considering he was a miserable bastard—a secret from her would have been a serious understatement.

At first she’d cried hysterically, carrying the weight of what had happened to me on her own shoulders and blaming herself for having failed to protect me. Once I finally got her to realize that there was nothing she could have done, she got ragey. Like, seriously ragey. Imagine the baby from those Incredibles movies. You know, the one who just catches fire spontaneously and looks like a miniature devil? Yeah, that was Tali. I’d actually had to jump on her back and wrestle her to the floor as she tried to get out the door so she could hunt Frank down and run him over with her car.

After that, she cried again, but this time, her sadness was due to the fact she thought I hadn’t told her I was suffering because I didn’t trust her. The fact I’d made my sister cry had hurt worse than any blow Frank had ever landed.

Between the two of us, I was pretty sure there’d been enough tears to fill several buckets that night. By the end of it, we’d aired all our dirty laundry, confessing things to each other we’d been holding onto for years and years. I admitted that I was the one who’d accidentally ripped the side view mirror off her car while backing out of the driveway. I told her that I’d taken the keys without permission so some of my friends and I could go see Twilight in the theater, but I hit the mirror on the fence, freaked the hell out, re-parked the car, and returned the keys to where I’d stolen them from like it had never happened.

After she frogged me good and hard on the arm, she forgave me and confessed that it had actually been her joint our mother found in my underwear drawer, which resulted in me being grounded for an entire month and having to suffer through nightly lectures on the evils of drugs.

It helped to ease her frayed nerves when I told her my friend Charlotte shattered Frank’s kneecap when he came storming in while she was helping me pack and move out of that piece of shit’s house for good. He was still walking with a noticeable limp. And as an added bonus, she had also been carrying a stun gun on her at the time, so I got in a few good zaps before it was all said and done.

In the end, Tali and I had come out of that conversation even closer than before, the bonds of sisterhood rock solid.

I finished my wine and reached for the bottle to pour myself another. “I have no clue if he knows about his brother. From how Frank acted and the things he said, I don’t think they were very close.”

In fact, the way my ex used to talk about his brother, it was obvious he held an unhealthy amount of contempt for the man who was his own flesh and blood, something I never quite understood, given how tight Tali and I were.

“Yeah, well, screw that family, right? You’re done with them and there’s no point in looking back.”

I clinked my glass with hers. “To being done with losers.”

“Amen to that.” She took a large gulp.

I hung around a while longer to make sure she was okay and to let her vent about her husband a bit more. There was a gnawing in my gut, a nagging worry as I headed home. I hated that she was struggling, and it was obvious she was putting on a brave face for the sake of me and the kids, pretending things were better than they actually were.

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