Delilah Green Doesn't Care(Bright Falls #1)(97)

“That’s Mother,” Astrid said, then slapped her own chest so hard Claire flinched. “What about me?”

Delilah lifted her chin, almost defiant, but Claire noticed a slight tremble of her lower lip, the way she clenched her jaw to steady it.

Astrid shook her head. “I should’ve never invited you here.”

“Why did you?”

“Because you’re my goddamn sister! And I wanted you at my wedding. I thought . . . I don’t know what I thought, but I certainly didn’t expect this. Mom was right; you don’t care about us. You don’t care about me, you don’t—”

“You never gave me a chance to,” Delilah said.

“I gave you a chance the second I hired you for this wedding! I gave you a chance every holiday you never came home and every time I stopped by your room growing up, every time we had dinner, every time—”

“So now I’m supposed to be a mind reader? You ignored me for the entirety of high school. Middle school. You ignored me every time Claire and Iris came over to the house, making sure I felt like an outsider every step of the way.”

Astrid blinked at her, tears falling silently onto her cheeks. When she spoke, her voice was fragile, shattered. “You ignored me first.”

Delilah pursed her lips, turned her head away, her eyes glistening just a little. Claire wanted to curl her into her arms. She wanted to take Astrid’s hand, get them to calm down and talk, but she didn’t move. She didn’t dare. This barbed-wire connection between Astrid and Delilah was so much sharper than she’d ever imagined. There was so much hurt here, so much anger, and she didn’t know how to help either one of them.

“I didn’t know I was ignoring you,” Delilah finally said, her voice so soft, Claire almost didn’t hear it. “I thought . . . I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Astrid shook her head, lifting her hands and letting them flop back to her sides. “So you come back to town, conspire behind my back with the only people in my life I really love, steal my best friend, just to what? Get back at me?”

Delilah rubbed her forehead, but she stayed silent.

“Oh,” Astrid said. “I forgot. That’s exactly what you did. You even told me you were going to do it. Didn’t you?”

Delilah’s hand dropped. “What? Astrid, Claire and I—”

“Let me guess. It just happened.”

“Yeah. It did.”

“I’m sure. She came after you, right? She wanted you. You’re irresistible. You had nothing to do with it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

Astrid sniffed. “So you didn’t bet me you could get into Claire’s pants before the wedding?”

It took Claire a few seconds to realize what Astrid had said, the words settling around the room like a sudden snow shower in April—quiet and cold and shocking.

Claire turned to look at Delilah. “You . . . you did what?”

Delilah pressed her eyes closed. “That’s not what happened.”

“Hang on, hang on,” Iris said. “Delilah bet you she could sleep with Claire?”

“The morning of the brunch,” Astrid said, gesturing at Claire. “She said you were looking well, and I told her to stay the hell away from you and she just grinned. Like it was a joke. Then she bet me she could get you in her bed in two weeks’ time.”

“And you took it?” Iris said, her mouth gaping.

“No! I told her to go fuck herself.”

“That’s not what happened,” Delilah said again, but her voice sounded frail, unsure.

“So you didn’t try to sleep with Claire just to get under my skin?” Astrid asked.

“You’re twisting it around,” Delilah said.

“Am I?”

“Wait,” Iris said, stepping farther into the room. “This can’t be right. What are we missing?” She frowned at Delilah, hurt furrowing her brow.

And still, Delilah said nothing. Nothing in defense. No explanation. She just stood there, her arms crossed, her eyes on the floor, teeth worrying at her bottom lip like she was trying to think of what to say. But if she even had to think, had to worry, then . . .

Claire couldn’t process this. She turned to look at the woman she’d just begged to be more with her. The woman she couldn’t stop thinking about, couldn’t imagine letting go back to New York without a plan to be in each other’s lives. She knew Delilah was rough around the edges. She knew Delilah was brash and brazen, and she actually loved all that about her. Plus, underneath all that, Delilah was . . . She was soft. And gentle and considerate and brave. She was real. It had all felt so real.

It was real.

Wasn’t it?

But now, the truth of how unfeasible their whole relationship was settled on Claire’s shoulders.

Claire had asked Delilah to stay. To try. To figure it out together.

And Delilah . . . hadn’t said yes. She’d kissed Claire, touched her so gently and tenderly it made Claire’s throat tighten just remembering it, but she hadn’t said yes. Because she couldn’t. Moreover, she didn’t want to. Delilah was always going to leave, just like Josh, just like Claire’s father. Regardless of how this started, no matter what she felt for Delilah or what she had hoped might happen, she couldn’t give her heart to someone else just to have them disappear on her again.