Chapter 1 - The Cake on the Grass
Emily Carter had been in love with Ryan Bennett for almost two years, and no one knew.
Not her mother.
Not her father.
Not even Chloe, her younger sister, who seemed to know every other secret in the house.
Emily was twenty-nine, quiet by nature, the kind of woman who remembered everyone’s birthday, returned shopping carts, and apologized when other people bumped into her. She worked as a bookkeeper for a small architectural firm in Westchester County, lived in the same suburban New York neighborhood where she had grown up, and had never once been the person who caused a scene.
Chloe was the opposite.
At twenty-six, Chloe could turn a grocery-store trip into an entrance.
She had thick dark hair, expensive perfume she could not afford, and a rotating cast of boyfriends whose names Emily stopped trying to remember.
Their mother, Susan, used to joke that Emily had been born forty years old while Chloe had been born looking for a nightclub.
The joke stopped being funny years ago.
Ryan lived next door.
He was thirty-two, handsome in the effortless way that made women forgive him too quickly. Dark hair. Easy smile. Muscular arms from renovating houses with his uncle.
He had moved into his late grandfather’s home two summers earlier.
Emily liked him almost immediately.
Ryan seemed to like her too.
At least that was what she believed.
He brought her coffee once when he saw her scraping ice from her windshield.
He fixed the loose latch on her garden gate.
He told her the blue sweater she wore at Christmas made her eyes look brighter.
Once, on a warm June evening, they stood beside the mailbox talking for almost an hour.
“I like talking to you,” Ryan had said.
Emily remembered every word.
“So do I.”
He smiled.
“You’re different from most women I meet.”
Emily’s heart had beaten so hard she was certain he could hear it.
She had gone inside afterward and replayed the conversation like a teenager.
What she did not know was that three nights later, Ryan kissed Chloe behind a downtown bar.
It was not their first kiss.
And it would not be their last.
Chloe knew exactly how Emily felt about Ryan.
Emily had never confessed it, but sisters noticed things.
The way Emily checked the window when Ryan’s truck pulled into his driveway.
The way she changed shirts before taking out the trash if he was outside.
The way she always made too many cookies when she knew he would be helping their father in the yard.
Chloe saw everything.
And somewhere along the way, Ryan became less interesting because she wanted him and more interesting because Emily did.
Saturday afternoon began like dozens of other Saturdays.
Emily stood in the kitchen making a lemon-blueberry cake.
Her mother walked past and smiled.
“That smells dangerous.”
Emily laughed.
“I’m trying a new recipe.”
“For us?”
Emily hesitated.
“Maybe.”
Susan raised an eyebrow.
Emily turned pink.
Her mother smiled but did not press.
Chloe walked into the kitchen wearing denim shorts and a cropped green blouse.
“Going somewhere?” Emily asked.
“Meeting Ava.”
“For what?”
“Why do you care?”
Emily looked down.
“I was just asking.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
“Coffee. Shopping. Girl stuff.”
She grabbed her purse.
“Don’t wait for me.”
Twenty minutes later, Chloe was not at a coffee shop.
She was behind Ryan’s house.
The backyard was private, bordered by high hedges and old maple trees. Ryan had spread a large plaid picnic blanket across the grass near the pool house.
There were strawberries.
Wine.
Music playing quietly from a speaker.
Chloe laughed as Ryan poured another glass.
“You know this is stupid.”
Ryan smiled.
“You came.”
“That doesn’t mean it isn’t stupid.”
“What are you worried about?”
“My sister.”
Ryan leaned back on one elbow.
“Emily doesn’t know.”
“She practically worships you.”
Ryan’s smile faded slightly.
“I never promised her anything.”
Chloe looked amused.
“You flirt with her.”
“I talk to her.”
“You told her she was different.”
Ryan shrugged.
“She is.”
Chloe leaned toward him.
“Do you like her?”
Ryan should have answered immediately.
He did not.
Chloe noticed.
She kissed him before he could respond.
By three-thirty, the picnic looked very different.
Ryan was shirtless, a towel wrapped around his waist after they had gone into the pool.
Chloe sat beneath a light blanket, her blouse discarded nearby and a blue lace bra visible beneath her open cover-up.
Neither heard the side gate.
Emily was carrying the cake.
She had placed it on a white ceramic serving plate decorated with tiny painted lemons.
Her grandmother had given her that plate.
Emily almost turned back twice.
She felt ridiculous.
What if Ryan thought bringing him cake was too obvious?
Then she remembered his smile at the mailbox.
Be brave once, she told herself.
She walked around the side of Ryan’s house.
“Ryan?”
No answer.
Then she heard Chloe laughing.
Emily stopped.
She knew that laugh.
She walked toward the backyard.
The cake suddenly felt heavy.
She rounded the hedge.
And her entire life seemed to stop.
Ryan was on the blanket.
Half dressed.
Chloe was beside him.
Emily’s sister.
For several seconds, no one moved.
Ryan saw her first.
His face emptied.
“Emily.”
Chloe turned.
The smile left her mouth, but not immediately.
That delay hurt more than anything.
Emily stared at the blue lace.
At Ryan’s bare chest.
At Chloe’s hand resting against his arm.
The cake shook.
“Emily,” Ryan said again.
She looked at him.
Her throat would not work.
Chloe pulled the blanket higher.
“This isn’t—”
“Don’t.”
Emily’s voice sounded strange.
Chloe frowned.
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t lie.”
Ryan stood carefully.
“Let me explain.”
Emily looked at him as if he had become a stranger.
“Explain what?”
“Things got complicated.”
“Complicated?”
Her eyes moved to Chloe.
“When?”
Chloe said nothing.
Emily’s voice broke.
“How long?”
Ryan glanced at Chloe.
That glance gave her the answer.
Emily stepped backward.
“Oh my God.”
“Emily,” Ryan said.
“How long?”
Chloe finally sighed.
“A few months.”
The plate slipped slightly in Emily’s hands.
“A few months?”
“Don’t make this bigger than it is.”
Something inside Emily cracked.
She looked at her sister.
“You knew.”
Chloe stood.
“Emily, you never even dated him.”
“You knew.”
“He wasn’t your boyfriend.”
“You knew!”
Chloe’s expression hardened.
“So what? You had a crush. Are we twelve?”
Ryan stepped between them.
“Everybody calm down.”
Emily turned on him.
“Did you tell me you liked talking to me?”
Ryan rubbed his jaw.
“Yes.”
“Did you tell me I was different?”
“Yes.”
“Did you stand outside my house and let me believe—”
“I never said we were together.”
The sentence landed hard.
Chloe folded her arms.
“There. You heard him.”
Emily stared at them both.
The sister who knew every insecurity she had.
The man who had carefully fed her hope without ever giving enough truth to be held accountable.
She looked down at the cake.
Something hot rose through her chest.
Emily had spent her entire life swallowing anger.
When Chloe borrowed clothes without asking.
When Chloe wrecked their mother’s car.
When Chloe stole money from Emily’s drawer at seventeen.
When Chloe flirted with Emily’s college boyfriend at Thanksgiving.
Emily had always been told the same thing.
Be the bigger person.
You know how Chloe is.
She’ll grow up.
Emily suddenly hated those words.
Chloe smirked.
“Are you going to cry?”
Emily looked up.
Then she threw the plate.
The ceramic dish flew across the blanket and struck Chloe against the upper arm before breaking on the grass.
Cake exploded across the picnic blanket.
Chloe screamed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Emily walked forward.
Chloe barely had time to straighten before Emily slapped her across the face.
The sound cracked through the yard.
Ryan grabbed Emily’s wrist.
“Enough!”
Emily tore herself free.
“Don’t touch me.”
Chloe held her cheek.
“You psycho!”
Emily was shaking.
Not crying.
Not yet.
“You lied to my face.”
“You don’t own him!”
“I never said I did!”
“Then why are you acting insane?”
“Because you’re my sister!”
Chloe laughed bitterly.
“If he really wanted you, he wouldn’t have been here with me.”
Silence.
Ryan muttered, “Chloe.”
But it was too late.
Emily’s eyes filled.
She looked at Ryan.
Then at Chloe.
The anger drained from her face, leaving something much colder.
“You know what?”
Chloe waited.
“You can have him.”
Ryan stiffened.
Emily continued.
“And Ryan?”
“Emily—”
“You’re not the man I thought you were.”
She looked at her sister one final time.
“And you’re not someone I can trust anymore.”
Emily walked away.
Ryan called after her.
She did not turn around.
She crossed the yard, walked through her own back door, passed her confused mother, climbed the stairs and locked herself in her bedroom.
Only then did she cry.
Outside, Susan looked through the kitchen window.
She could see the broken plate in Ryan’s yard.
She could see Chloe putting on her blouse.
She could see Ryan standing there with both hands on his hips.
And Susan Carter understood enough.
When Chloe came home twenty minutes later, Susan was waiting in the kitchen.
“What did you do?”
Chloe stopped.
“Excuse me?”
Susan pointed toward the stairs.
“Your sister came home looking like someone died.”
Chloe rolled her eyes.
“Emily is being dramatic.”
Susan’s face hardened.
“What did you do?”
Chloe dropped her purse onto the counter.
“She found out about Ryan.”
Susan went completely still.
“What about Ryan?”
Chloe did not answer.
Susan looked toward the neighboring house.
Then back at her daughter.
“Oh, Chloe.”
“What?”
“You knew she cared about him.”
“So?”
Susan stared at her.
“So she’s your sister.”
Chloe crossed her arms.
“Apparently that means she gets first choice of every man in the neighborhood.”
“No.”
Susan’s voice became quiet.
“It means you don’t deliberately hurt someone who loves you.”
Chloe’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
But instead of guilt, something harder appeared.
“She’ll get over it.”
May you like
Upstairs, Emily heard every word.
And for the first time in her life, she decided she was done getting over things quietly.
