Macon’s nostrils flare as he stares her down. “Yeah, I’ll speak to you however the hell I want.”

Sam laughs, a light trill that works like nails on my skin. “I didn’t steal it. I was only borrowing the damn thing.” The silver bangles on her slim wrist chime as she reaches over and opens her purse to root around in it.

The diamond watch glitters in the sun as she holds it aloft. “See? All better.”

Macon’s snort is eloquent, but he doesn’t move to take it. He merely stares her down as she sets it carefully on the table, then gives him an innocent smile.

“Where have you been, Sam?” My voice is thick and unsteady. I’m so ashamed of her right now I can barely stand being in the room.

“Here and there.” She takes another sip of tea. “I had some things I needed to take care of.”

“Like pawning my mother’s watch?” Macon supplies.

“You see it here, don’t you?”

“I’m guessing you had a harder time getting rid of it than you expected,” he deadpans.

Sam flicks a lock of golden hair over her shoulder but doesn’t answer.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pull in my temper. “Enough. Samantha, Macon’s right. Cut the shit. I don’t know why you’re acting like this, but it isn’t funny. I expected you to return and apologize, not antagonize him. God, do you have any remorse?”

All pretense of casual, carefree Sam melts away, and she surges to her feet. “You got some nerve, Dee.”

“What?” Macon and I both say at the same time with different levels of outrage.

She ignores him. “Acting all high and mighty when you’re fucking my boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” Macon repeats, incredulous.

But I know exactly what she means. She zeroes in on me. “He was mine. For years! My first man. Mine. That makes him off limits.”

“I don’t believe this,” Macon says, cutting in. “What are you, thirteen? We’ve been ancient history for a decade.”

“Shut up,” Sam says, not looking his way. She only has eyes for me. “You’re my sister,” she cries, tearing up. “My best friend. And you had to go there? With him? I get that he’s hot and famous, but you are way out of your depth here, Dee.”

A flutter of guilt tickles my conscience because there is a sister code. I’ve broken it. But I shove that guilt away. On the surface, I am guilty, true. And if it had been any other man, I’d feel ashamed. But our tangled history with Macon makes it more complicated.