I had felt a flicker of gratitude when Leah cancelled our original lunch plans, claiming that decorating her home had consumed her entirely. I had felt even more grateful when she informed me she would not have time to reschedule for another two weeks. Two weeks felt like mercy. Two weeks felt like distance.
What I had not anticipated, however, was that instead of meeting me in the neutral safety of a restaurant, she would insist I come to the penthouse she and Ashton now called home. Dinner, she had said brightly. So we could discuss everything properly. In detail.
Of course, we could.
Apparently, my sister had insisted on a place entirely their own—something untouched, something new. Ashton had obliged without hesitation, purchasing a penthouse neither of them had ever set foot in bef
