mother. Melanie had three: her real mother, who was sort of around for her first eight years, her grandmother, who raised her after that, and her big sister, who was a giant, bossy pain in her rear. Such a lucky girl.
This time she had to make it clear to Alana that she was twenty-six, not twelve. That she had really sworn off losers and had really found a decent man, and if Alana screwed it up.
She whirled on her sister. “You just had to come up here. You couldn’t trust that I—”
Alana put a finger to her lips and pushed open the door to Melanie’s childhood room, which Melanie saw through Alana’s eyes and realized looked like the room of a…twelve-year-old. Dammit. She’d been keeping it neat, forcing herself to pick up every night before bed, but last night after drinks with coworkers Jenny and Edgar, she’d needed an outfit for Ray’s get-together and hadn’t been able to decide what to wear, tried on everything she owned, then it got late, and—
No. She wasn’t going to be defensive anymore. She lived her life honestly and it was her own damn business how she kept her room.
“Melanie.” Alana shut the door behind her, glanced around, but miracle of miracles, didn’t make her usual face and comment about pigs. Okay, she’d only done that once, when Melanie was thirteen. But it still hurt.
“Alana.” She held her head high, wishing she were wearing jeans and a sweater instead of her revealing rumpled outfit from the night before. She’d been so tired when she got home around four, she’d dropped right into bed, and slept until Alana’s and Sawyer’s voices woke her. “You have twenty seconds to explain why when I told you I found a great guy, you drove straight up here and seduced him.”
“That is not what happened.” She dropped the bedspread, grabbed a loose skirt and teal sweater from Melanie’s floor.
“You did drive straight up here.”
“Yes. I did.” She pulled on the skirt, which barely fit over the curvy hips Melanie wished she had, dragged the too-tight sweater over her generous boobs, ditto. “I was worried about you.”
“So the phrases ‘I’ve changed’ and ‘this guy is different’… you thought I was lying? Or so stupid that I had no idea what I was talking about?”
“What is so great about a guy who makes a move on your sister?”
“I thought you said all that went on was sleeping.”
Alana’s face went blank. She slumped against the wall and knocked off Melanie’s firefighters calendar. Mr. July was muscled enough to go bodysurfing on, but he fell without protest. “I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because what was the point of hurting you more?”
She looked so miserable Melanie had to force herself to calm down. She knew Sawyer wasn’t a player, but then Alana wasn’t, either. So… “What did happen?”
“I was asleep. My doctor gave me new pills and then Sawyer…I thought I was dreaming.”
“Come on. You slept through sex?”
“We didn’t have sex. He just—”
“Ew.” Melanie put her hands out. “I don’t want to know.”
“But also, I had a headache and took one of the ibuprofen in the medicine cabinet. It didn’t look right, and I wondered if maybe I was so asleep because—”
“Oh, gosh.” Melanie’s eyes widened. “I wondered where those were. That wasn’t ibuprofen, those were sleeping pills I borrowed from Joe.”
“Whoa.” Alana’s eyebrows shot up. “I guess that’s how you sleep through sex.”
“I thought you said—”
“No.” She waggled her finger back and forth. “I meant it. No sex. But the guy is bad news, Melanie.”
Here we go. Mommy Alana on a roll. “He didn’t know who you were.”
“What was he doing making a pass at anyone if you’re dating seriously?”
“Oh.” Melanie did everything she could not to look guilty. They weren’t exactly dating yet. But he’d shown interest moving in with her, hadn’t he? And with the two of them together so much, something would happen. He was perfect for the new her. But if she told Alana she’d asked Sawyer to move into their house when she’d only seen him four times briefly at Habitat for Humanity, Alana would stay for the rest of Melanie’s life. “Well…he was drunk. He didn’t know what he was doing.”
“And this is an excuse why? For one thing, blacking-out drunk is serious. For another, alcohol doesn’t force you to cheat.”
“Look. Just drop it, okay? Sawyer and I have worked this out. He’s moving in today and that’s what we both want. I’ve never seen him drink too much before, this was probably a one-time overindulgence. And if not, I’ll keep an eye out and handle it, okay?”
“No, not okay. I don’t want you getting involved with someone—”
“Who you don’t know at all and who has a perfectly reasonable explanation for how he behaved? It’s actually more reasonable than yours.” She wanted to turn into a bear, growl and terrify Alana out of the house, then shred a tree or something. She couldn’t stand the fighting. It was all they did. “Tell you what. I’ll put him on probation for a month.”
“Melanie, I can’t believe—”
“One month.” She held up a finger. “Any signs of excessive drinking or, um, cheating on me again, and I’ll throw him out. In the meantime, while you’re here, you make an effort to talk to him and get to know him when he hasn’t been drinking, which I’m telling you is not like him. If you still think he’s a jerk, then we’ll talk. But I know you won’t.”
Alana sighed, pushed herself away from the wall and rehung Mr. July, which shouldn’t have been necessary since he was plenty well hung already. “Okay. I know I’m a buttinsky. I just worry about you.”
“Ya think?” She couldn’t help grinning. Her sister did look worried, and Melanie was aware a lot of the worry was love. She just wished Alana would keep her worry and love safely long distance. “I’m fine, really. You and Sawyer got off on…okay, rephrase, started off on the wrong foot, but he’s really terrific. Practically a Boy Scout. I don’t know where he was last night, but—”
“You don’t?” Alana pounced. “He doesn’t tell you where he’s—”
“Alana…”
“Okay.” She lifted her hands. “Okay, okay. Shutting up. Where were you last night?”
“I went out for a drink after work with Jenny and Edgar. Came back to change, then Jenny and I went to a party.”
“Ah.” Alana looked at her watch, doubtless thinking, You’re too old to be partying this hard at your age, young lady. “You don’t have work today?”
Melanie whirled around, peered at her Betty Boop clock and gasped. “Oh, God. I’m late.”
She started peeling off her clothes, looking desperately around at her discarded wardrobe. What to wear, what to wear.
“I’ll find you something for breakfast.” Alana left the room before Melanie could tell her she didn’t eat breakfast. Whatever. Mommy Alana wouldn’t listen anyway. She’d lecture on the importance of a good nutritious start to the day and whip up oatmeal with prunes. Melanie hated oatmeal. And she hated prunes.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in beige pants and an olive-patterned top she’d bought on sale and never worn because it made her look sallow, teeth brushed, makeup on, stairs leaped down two at a time, she managed not to roll her eyes at the spread on the table. Toast, cereal, power