Silver Linings, стр. 53

“You know I'm not very good at confrontations,” Mattie reminded her humbly. She eyed the oat bran muffin and decided she wasn't hungry. “They make me tense.”

It was true. When it came to arguing with anyone in her temperamental, high-spirited, high-strung clan, she was always at a disadvantage for the simple reason that she was the only one in her family who truly dreaded scenes. They made her physically sick. Everyone else thrived on them. What's more they were very good at them. On the rare occasion Mattie had tried to stage a major scene, she had always felt outclassed, outgunned, and outacted.

Except when she had staged one with Hugh, she realized. She had actually lost her temper with Hugh more than once, and she had not felt nauseated at all.

“Maybe you don't handle scenes well because you're such a wimp, Mattie. If you'd just fight back once in a while, you wouldn't get so tense.”

Mattie sighed. “I don't have the personality for the kind of dramatics you and Mom and Dad and everyone else in the family enjoy so much. That kind of thing just puts me under a lot of stress. You know I try to avoid stress these days.”

“You don't know what stress is,” Ariel shot back. “I'll tell you what real stress is. Last night was real stress for me.”

“Last night?” Mattie glanced up in surprise. “What was so stressful about last night? The retrospective of your work was a great success.”

“Oh, sure. You think it was my work everyone was talking about after you left? Well, it wasn't. The main topic of conversation was that cozy little scene of you and Flynn and Emery and Hugh all huddled together out on the sidewalk talking like the great friends you obviously are. And then you, my dear sister, had the gall to get into a cab with my ex-husband and my ex-fiancé and drive off into the night. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I didn't think anyone noticed,” Mattie said weakly.

“Bullshit. You like doing things like that, don't you? You like making me look like the Wicked Witch while you play Snow White.” Ariel sprang to her feet and took a turn around the room.

“That's not how it is, Ariel.” Mattie watched her sister warily. Ariel was working herself up into one of her full-scale storms. She was capable of generating real thunder and lightning when she got going.

“Don't tell me how it is. I know how it is. It's always been like that. Everyone thinks I'm some sort of Amazon goddess in a cast-iron bra who gets her kicks from destroying men. But it's not true.” She spun around and glared at Mattie. “The divorce from Emery was not my fault, you know.”

“I know, Ariel.”

“No, you don't know, damn you. How could you know? You've never been married. Why should you bother? You're having too much fun comforting the men who get bruised and battered by me, aren't you?”

“Now, hold on, Ariel…”

“Too much fun letting everyone think you're the only one with any real sensitivity; too much fun compensating for your lack of artistic talent by demonstrating the depths of your womanly empathy and understanding. You've already hooked Emery and Hugh, but you're not satisfied. Now you've finally got your claws into Flynn, too.”

“That's not true.” Mattie sat stunned in her chair. It had never occurred to her that Ariel might actually be jealous of Flynn. Ariel always seemed so self-assured when it came to men, as assured as she was about her talent.

“It is true. You want to add Flynn to your collection of scalps, don't you? You want to prove you can make him turn to you for a comforting bosom to cry on just like the others do. Do you know what Emery once said about you? He said you were such a sweet, old-fashioned sort of woman. Very gentle on a man's ego. The kind who was born to be waiting faithfully back at the castle when the warrior came home from battle.”

Mattie put her head in her hands. “God, that does sound awful, doesn't it? Especially when everyone knows that in real life men are bored to tears by that kind of woman.”

“I won't let you do it, Mattie.”

“Do what?” Mattie looked up again.

“You can have Emery and you can have Hugh, if you really want them, although Lord knows why you would. But you cannot have Flynn.”

“I don't want Flynn, damn it.” Mattie shot to her feet as the stress of the moment finally galvanized her into action. “I didn't want Emery, either. We've never been anything more than friends and that's the gospel truth. The only one I ever wanted was Hugh, and he wasn't particularly interested when I offered myself on a silver platter last year. So stop making it sound like I'm some kind of Jezebel who specializes in your cast-off men. I don't want your leftovers, Ariel. I never did.”

Ariel was staring at her. “What do you mean, you offered yourself to Hugh on a silver platter last year?”

“Oh, damn, why did I let you drag me into this stupid argument. Forget it. Forget it. Forget everything.” The rare and unfamiliar passion of rage died as quickly as it had arisen. Mattie sank back wearily into her chair, surprised to discover that although she felt drained, she didn't feel sick to her stomach. She was getting better at anger. Maybe it was from all the practice she was getting with Hugh.

“Tell me what you mean about that silver-platter crack,” Ariel insisted, planting her hands on Mattie's desk.

“There's nothing to tell. I made a fool of myself last year after you dumped Hugh. That's all. Believe me, I learned my lesson.” The water was boiling in the hot pot. Mattie reached down to flick the switch and noticed her fingers were trembling. Stress, she thought. She was shaking from