Dean. Dean Cole makes me feel alive.

THE REST OF OUR VEGAS escapade dragged, despite my best efforts. I took the girls to the Mob Museum, a barbeque restaurant (my first choice was sushi, but as much as I was mad at my sister, taunting her was not high on my to-do list), and to a spa. Millie and I exchanged a total of twenty words the whole trip and shared nervous silence whenever we were alone. I was curt, polite, and distant. She was miserable, worried, and troubled.

Then there was the guilt. It ate at my insides like a growing tumor. I wasn’t even sure which part was worse. The part where I slept with her ex-boyfriend—there was no denying at this point that Dean and I were more than sleeping together, and that was an issue, too—or the part where I didn’t partake in the cooing-fest Gladys, Sydney, and Elle threw when it came to my sister.

On Thursday, we boarded a plane back home, and even though I dreaded meeting my parents, relief washed over me. The minute we got back to the mansion, I entered my room, collapsing onto the four-poster bed. Exhausted didn’t begin to cover what I was feeling. My lungs screamed in agony from all the dancing, walking around, and…well, let’s just say that having sex on cold tiles wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had. I practically felt the mucus covering my airways. And while I needed to book an appointment to see Dr. Hasting as soon as possible, I couldn’t leave here before the wedding.

As I rolled to the side of the bed to text Elle and ask how her flight to New York went (she had to skip the wedding for a family event), my older sister threw my door open and dashed in like a storm.

“We need to talk.”

I turned around, sprawled on a throne of puffy, colorful pillows, and the hurricane in her eyes calmed once she saw my wet cheeks and red eyes. Her face twisted in worry. That was Millie for you. Even when I acted like a brat at her bachelorette party, she still melted under my cold flesh.

I patted the empty side of the bed in silent invitation. To the place where we sat, where we laughed, where we cried, and stared at glow-in-the-dark stars and made crazy plans. I waved the white flag. In return, she stepped from her position—not outside the room but not inside, exactly, either, then closed the door behind her.

Cough-laughing, I bowed my head down.

“Then let’s talk, sister.”

“I never meant for you to find out this way. Ever,” Millie said, her arms behind her head, staring at the ceiling.

My face was buried between her chin and armpit, and from that angle, I could see the blue vein that popped inside her cleavage, running through her left breast, as her body prepared for breastfeeding.

“But I couldn’t exactly mention it to you in passing, either, and we both know why. Daddy is on your case, Mama is crazy-scared now that she knows that you’re alone in New York, and the last thing I wanted was to put more pressure on you. Bad call, I know, but only because people found out way sooner than they should have thanks to my morning sicknesses and tendency to go green every time I smell coffee.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her cheek against mine.

“Gladys and Sydney found out a week ago. I was going to tell you before the bachelorette party, but then you outdid yourself with the Vegas trip and we never got the one-on-one time.”

“I work with babies,” I pouted, hugging a pillow to my chest and pulling at a loose thread. “You could have told me this in passing. I still would have been nothing but ecstatic for you. Why would you assume differently?”

She gulped, looking down to the space between us.

“Because, Rosie, love and passion are the two forces that can drive a person into madness, despite their best intentions.” She turned around to face me, tucking a hand under her ear. “And you are passionate about motherhood. I didn’t want to throw it in your face along with this wedding, and the lavish ceremony, and whatnot. This is weird for me, too, okay? I’m not used to having it easy in life.”

I pulled her into a hug, sniffing her neck, the scent of the cherry blossom perfume she always used. She smelled like home.

“I’ve never been so happy about someone else’s fortune,” I said, each word light and easy, because it was the truth. “And get used to all this goodness, because you’ve definitely earned it fair and square. Now, tell me everything. How far along are you?”

“Nine weeks.” She bit the corner of her lip, sliding a hand over her flat stomach. “The smell of coffee makes me throw up, and the thought of bacon sends uncomfortable shivers down my spine. Oh, Rosie, and my boobs. They hurt so bad. All tender and huge. Which only makes Vicious even more fascinated with them.” She rolled her eyes and snorted out a laugh. “They say the first trimester is the hardest, and it’s a breeze from there on.”

I spared her the stories of the young mothers I worked with, and how the real work started when the baby was out, and hugged her, entwining my legs with hers.

“How do you tolerate me, dude? Seriously. I’m, like, the worst person in the world. I acted like a spoiled brat all week just because for a few, miserable seconds, I felt what it was like to be you. Not the center of everyone’s world.”

“Jesus. Rosie, it’s no big deal. You were a little quiet in Vegas, but…”

“No, Millie, it’s not just this,” I muttered.

Dare I say it? Might as well. She is giving me her truth. It is only fair that I give her mine.

“And…?” Millie disconnected from our hug, eyeing my curiously. I scooted up, sitting with my back against the headboard. I stared at my hands so hard my vision became blurry. I did the crime. It was time to pay the time.

“And I slept with Dean.”

I didn’t look up. The prospect of hurting my sister was suddenly very real and very raw. For twenty-something years, my life was devoid of responsibilities. Other than to stay alive, of course. I was let off the hook time and time again, as long as I took my medicine, went to my physiotherapy sessions and did my airway clearance every morning and afternoon. Now, I had to ask for forgiveness. To show remorse. To deal with the consequences.

Starting with the last person I had ever wanted to hurt—my sister.

I was willing to make it right. To give up Dean—knowing full well that he was the only man I was meant to love, the only one I would ever love—because my sister was more important. More important than him, and more important than me.

So, I held my breath, my eyes half-closed, waiting for Millie’s verdict. Even though my lungs were burning, begging, gasping, I held my breath. I wanted her to punch me in the face, kick me in the stomach, tell me I’m the worst person in the world and throw me out of her house. As long as it meant that she would still give me a chance to fix it.

“How was he?” Her voice came out of nowhere.

What…?

“I…uh…excuse me?”

“Was he any good?” It was Millie’s turn to scurry up and sit beside me. She flung one leg over the other, tapping her lips. “I was only with him one time. Between you and me, he barely touched me. Half the time we were just kissing between me doing his homework.” She giggled, and hell, hearing this made me feel good.

“He was…” I narrowed my eyes, inspecting my sister closely. Was she drunk? High? Couldn’t be, as she had a bun in the oven. But it didn’t look like she cared one bit. I knew that she was over him. Knew that they were never in love in the first place. After Millie had run to New York, I monitored her every move from afar, making sure her heart wasn’t broken. She felt regret and sorrow for the way she ended things with Dean, but never longing. So I knew she wasn’t going to feel the sting of heartbreak. But this…this was weird, too.

“He was…?” my sister prompted, tilting her chin down.

Dirty-hot. Filthy-rough. Mind-blowingly hard. The best I’ve ever had.

“Well,” I coughed into my fist, “let’s just say that while I have a lot of criticism when it comes to his personality, you will not hear me complain about him in the sack. So, are you really not mad?”

She shrugged. “He’s a HotHole, Rosie. They’re so bad they can’t even spell the word ‘good’, but I think you already know that. As long as you protect your heart.” She placed her palm over the left side of my Anti-Flag shirt. “I’m supportive of this, whatever this is. I just want what’s best for you. Does he make you happy?”

Did Dean make me happy? I couldn’t answer that honestly. When we were together, I was either drunk or angry. Sometimes both. And I always left him feeling so guilty, there was a pinch of salt to every sexual encounter. To every heart-to-heart moment. Even when I held him close to me the night we found out Val left Trent, I couldn’t let my heart beat for Dean. It had to have Millie’s permission first.

“I think I could be,” I answered, feeling excitement and awe swirling in the pit of my stomach.

“Then it’s settled. You have my blessing.” She clapped once, smiling.

With this blessing—which I did not take lightly, it was my ticket to happiness, after all—I also made a promise. I was going to be the best bridesmaid in the history of bridesmaids on Sunday. The opposite of Annie. The prospect of redeeming myself made my heart beat faster.

“Thank you, Millie.” I exhaled the air I’d been holding since we started this conversation, and my lungs winced in relief.

“Don’t thank me. Thank love. It conquers all.”

“Even Dean ‘Manslut’ Cole?” I joked.

My sister slapped my thigh, laughing.

“Oh, I have a feeling especially him.”

FUCK, I HATED WEDDINGS.

I almost forgot about this little fact—almost—but then Vicious and Millie’s collision of prissy food, bright colors, and sweaty, dressed-up guests had reminded me that if I were ever to get hitched, it was going to be in Vegas.

It was a good thing Rosie and I had plane tickets to New York first thing tomorrow morning, because I was desperate to get the hell out of Todos Santos and begin my relentless pursuit after her. I called it: Operation: The Right LeBlanc Sister. And I was going to start by breaking the fucking news on national television so she’d stop feeling so goddamn guilty every time we slept together. That was one of the roots of our problem, and I was eager to tear it from its base and kill the shame and prejudice I saw when she looked me in the eyes.