For several minutes, the table is filled with only the sounds of Leah’s humming and forks scratching at the surfaces of our plates. Despite all the noise, I seem to be the only one actually eating—everyone else opting to push their food around in pretense. I shrug and lean forward, scooping another helping onto my plate. No sense in wasting what’s a pretty decent frozen lasagna.

“You seem so familiar,” Cee Cee says finally, holding her fork out, pointing at Paige.

Paige sets hers down carefully, taking time with her napkin against her lips, not that she’s eaten a single bite. She places it next to her plate then pushes back from the table slightly, giving her legs enough room to cross underneath. She turns her body to the right—her head cocked so the curls in her hair slide down her shoulder.

“Wow,” she says, her lips wrapping around the smallness of that word, making it sound so much bigger than the three letters it is. “You’re really going to take this thing far, aren’t you?”

Not that anyone was actually eating before, but nobody is chewing now. Even Leah has stopped humming.

“Am I missing something?” I ask after a few painful and long seconds of silence as we all watch the showdown at the dinner table. I feel stupid that I’m still smiling. Clearly, by the tone in Paige’s voice, I shouldn’t be smiling. Whatever this is—isn’t something funny. But it’s damn sure uncomfortable.

“Oh sweetie. You’ve always been the one in control of how far this thing goes,” Cee Cee says. I watch as both women level one another with similar looks. It’s pretty obvious they know each other. And it’s pretty obvious they hate each other. The only part I’m missing is why.

“I have, haven’t I?” Paige says, her eyes never leaving Cee Cee’s face. I glance at Leah, and my mom is a step ahead of me, leading her from the table, distracting her with her new iPod and accompanying her into the other room. I’m left in here, on the set of the Bold and the Beautiful.

“Okay, I’m going to need the full story on this one,” I say, folding my hands on the table. I may as well be invisible, because Paige is standing now, walking to the door. She pulls it open, pressing her back against it, her eyes giving Cee Cee a challenge.

“You’re going to get a call from the Herald Tribune. You’re going to tell them you were wrong. Understand?” Cee Cee says, standing, moving closer to Paige until each of them flanks one side of the open door.

“Yeah, so I’m pretty sure I’m not. What happens in that scenario?” Paige asks, and even though there’s a certain swagger to her defiance, I can also see she’s nervous, her fingers rubbing anxiously on the doorknob behind her back.

Cee Cee smirks, letting out one of those breathy laughs I thought chicks only did in teen movies. Is that what scoffing sounds like?

“Thanks for dinner, Houston. You might want to do better background checks on your renters, though. Just sayin’,” she says, leaving without even acknowledging Leah in the next room.

She wasn’t here for Leah.

She never really is.

“Paige?” I ask.

Her head falls to the side along the door, her gaze on my daughter at first, then finally sliding to me. As long as I’ve known her, she’s never looked nervous—she’s never looked scared. She’s wearing both right now.

Paige

That was unfair. That was so fucking, unbelievably, horribly unfair.

Houston is waiting for an answer. His mom is just over his shoulder, distracting a beautiful, innocent little girl, but her eyes are on me, too—waiting. I don’t know what to do.

“Paige?” This is the second time he’s said my name like a question.

“I’m sorry, Houston, but I can’t stay here any more,” I say. I shuffle past him up the stairs and close my door, careful not to slam it. I don’t want it to look like I’m throwing a tantrum, but that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m so rattled—thrown by her level of crazy. I don’t know who told her I was here, but she knew. That…all of that…tonight? It was all orchestrated for me, for her to get at me. I hate that I let her get to me. Chandra might actually be dangerous, and right now—I need my sister. I need to call her. We’re broken, but we’re still stronger together.

I knew he’d follow. There’s a soft knock at my door, and when his eyes ask if he can enter, I nod for him to come in.

“Mom took Leah to the park. We have…some time,” he says, wanting me to know I can feel comfortable being honest. It’s not the people in the house, though, it’s this mental game I’ve been roped into.