Harry’s brows furrowed. “Evelyn, it’s late. Go home. Clarissa doesn’t like strangers staying over.”
But Evelyn wasn’t deterred. She turned to me, her voice shifting from pitiful to pleading. “Sister,” she said, clasping her hands together, “can I stay? Just for one night? I’ll be no trouble, I promise.”
Her wide, innocent eyes were a masterstroke in manipulation. I offered her a cold smile, one sharp enough to cut. “Stay,” I said flatly.
Her face lit up like a child unwrapping a gift. “Yay! Clarissa is so kind and generous!” She practically skipped into the house, heading straight to the dining table. Without hesitation, she plopped herself down in my seat.
“Harry,” she cooed, grinning up at him, “your cooking smells amazing. You know, I could get used to this. I want to eat your food for the rest of my life!”
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. “Evelyn,” he said sharply, “that’s Clarissa’s seat. Everything here tonight is prepared especially for her. There’s no place for you.”
Despite his stern words, the banter between them was sickeningly playful, their familiarity suffocating. My stomach churned as I watched them. I pushed back my chair, my appetite gone.