Page 3 of PS: I Hate You
I left, too. The absences weren’t all his fault.
Now I’ll never see him again.
“Maddie.”
Dom followed me, and I hate how good my name sounds in his rumbling voice.
“Dominic.” I pitch my voice low, mocking his deep delivery. There’s no need to turn and face him when he casts a heavy gloom around me like I’ve stepped into the shadow of a mountain. “I told you, I’m peachy. Go pretend to care about someone else.”
“I’m the executor of Josh’s will.”
The words take a moment to register. Mainly because I don’t know what an executor is.
“What?” Unable to fight the urge, I glare up at the unfortunately tall bane of my existence.
“He named me executor,” Dom repeats, and I still don’t know what that means, which infuriates me. “There are items he wanted given to family”—he waves at me like maybe I forgot Josh was my blood—“and close friends. Since we’re all here, I reserved a small room for everyone to meet. I’ll distribute everything.”
“Wait,” I snap. “Wait wait wait.” My hands wave in the air as I try to shut him up before he says more things that piss me off. “That’s supposed to be, like, a lawyer’s job.”
Dom watches me, expression revealing nothing. “Executors don’t have to be lawyers. You can assign anyone.”
From his tone, I get a silent—judgmental—question.You don’t have all your affairs perfectly in order for the day that you die, Maddie?
No, I don’t. Because I’m a normal fucking twenty-six-year-old.
“And Josh chose…you.”
My brother chose Dominic Perry, Mr.Responsible Asshole, for this special postdeath job overme.
His sister.
Are you kidding me, Josh?
We weren’t some estranged siblings that barely knew each other. We were close. We talked on the phone every week, even if he was on the opposite side of the world from me. We had enough inside jokes to fill a small-town public library.
When Josh told me about his diagnosis, he cried, and I cried, and we hugged and lied to each other that he would kick cancer’s ass.
But when he needed a fancy officialexecutor, Josh chose Dom.
I glare at the cluster of Joshes framed on the table, imagining my brother laughing at my frustration.
“I have something for you. From him.” Dom steps back as he says the words, knowing the siren song he’s singing to me.
Something from Josh.Even if my brother left it in the care of the man I hate most in the world, I must have the mystery item. I’m tempted to snarlGive it!and make grabby hands, but I have some sense of pride.
Just a little bit.
“Fine,” I snap. “I’ll come to your specialexecutorroom.”
The man nods and leads the way. At least this gets me far from the crush of strangers again.
Although, if I’m going to a room with family, that must mean—
“Madeline!” My mother’s voice sounds the moment I step through the doorway. “Oh, Madeline. There you are.” She strolls up to me, looking red-carpet ready in her all-black suit and heels. In an effortless move, she scoops me up into a hug. Almost as if she’s been doing it my whole life.
She hasn’t. I can count the times Cecilia Sanderson hugged me on my fingers and still have a few left over.
“Mom.” After an awkward pat on her back, I let my arms drop.