Dev snorted. “Are you thinking of trying to get a job here? You’ll need to learn Italian first. And don’t think you can stay at the house. I have a real estate agent coming tomorrow to give an appraisal.”
Bailey tamped down on her irritation. She refused to be drawn into an argument while eating dinner on her first night in Italy, but damned if Dev didn’t hit her hot buttons. “This isn’t just your choice,” she reminded her. “Pris and I also have shares—it’s not like Mom left it just to you. Maybe we don’t want to sell.”
“Trust me, you could use the money,” Dev said. “Give Dad a break from paying your bills.”
“I don’t know what you think you know, but Dad doesn’t support me. I made decent pay from my past few plays, and I have low rent that’s split with a roommate.”
“For now. You don’t stay in one place for long.”
Bailey stared at her sister intently. “So what? Why do you care so much, Dev? I don’t need a fancy title and a cool Manhattan loft to be happy. I also don’t need everyone else’s approval.”
Dev narrowed her gaze. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think you know.”
“I only meant eventually you need to settle down. Pick a lane. You’re an actress, you sketch constantly, and you write. Don’t you worry about your future at all? What if your car breaks down or you get sick or the play gets canceled? If you want to be a serious actress, go to Manhattan, get an agent, and focus. You live with no backup plan,” Dev said.
“The universe will catch me,” Bailey said simply.
Dev widened her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
Pris cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s change the subject! Where does Roberto live? What questions will we ask him?”
Bailey wanted to finish their conversation but sensed it wasn’t the time. Things between her and Dev were coming to a head, and it was time they tore apart the seams of their relationship to see if it could be mended. She’d avoided the confrontation this long because she was terrified Dev had meant exactly what she’d said all those years ago.
That Bailey was now nothing to her.
The pizza arrived and they dug in. The sweet scent of basil, the richness of mozzarella, and the fresh tomatoes tasted incredible. They groaned between bites, blissfully silent and bonded together in a way they hadn’t been for a long time.
“Why are carbs so good?” Pris asked amid shoving cheese into her mouth. Bailey almost laughed at her elegant sister’s sudden primitive hunger.
“There’s nothing wrong with carbs,” Dev said, nibbling on a chunk of crust. “They took something women love and spun it so it was evil. The world is always afraid we’ll rise to complete power if we figure out our bodies are perfect just how they are.”
Bailey nodded. “You’re right, I completely agree. Patriarchal society keeps us locked into fear mode, afraid of our own success.”
Dev looked surprised. “Yes, agreed.”
Bailey wondered if a sudden hailstorm would cut the moment short. When was the last time they had agreed on anything, let alone had a civil conversation? She decided to push her advantage. “Speaking of success, tell me about your job, Dev.”
Her sister squinted with suspicion. “Why?”
“Because I’m interested. Do you still like teaching at NYU?”
Dev spoke reluctantly, as if she suspected ulterior motives from her simple question. “Yes, I do. Unfortunately, I got passed over for the dean position.”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure you’ll get it next time.”
“Doubt it. Elliot the Mansplainer will keep that job till he retires or dies.”
Bailey laughed. She’d always enjoyed Dev’s sharp wit and wry humor. Very different from her and Pris. “What does that mean, then? Go for another job or title?”
“I’m teaching a new type of hands-on course in August for some bigwigs in the financial community. I think it could be a starter ground for me to feel other jobs out. I like academia, and NYU has been good to me, but I’m just looking for . . .” She trailed off, letting the words float away in air like mist.
“More?” Bailey asked.
Dev nodded. “Yep. A bigger leadership role. I love teaching, but I sense a private company might be what I need next. I could always teach part-time.”
Bailey watched her face turn thoughtful, as if it was the first time she was vocalizing her wants. Dev had always been the most ambitious of the three of them, driven from an inner need to excel and compete. Even Pris in the cutthroat world of dance had never taken well to that type of lifestyle. For the first time, Bailey wondered if it was hard on her sister being so different from anyone else in the family. She’d cut Dad out, and he was maybe the only member to understand loving work above all else. But their personalities had always clashed—Dev’s edges a bit too sharp for her father’s vibrant energy and people-pleasing abilities.
“I think it’s wonderful. We have too few women out there looking after the financial world amid stuffy old men. You’ve accomplished so much in your career—more than Pris and I ever have. No wonder Mom favored you the most.”
Bailey lifted her wineglass, then stopped mid-sip. Her sisters stared at her as if she’d just sprouted horns and wings. “What did you say?” Dev asked.
Bailey blinked. “Mom favored you. You know that.”
Pris cleared her throat and pushed away her empty plate. “We should get the bill and head out.”
“Are you trying to piss me off or are you really that clueless?” Dev demanded.
And just like that, the brief closeness exploded. “I’m trying to be nice! God, can’t I say anything to you without getting my head bitten off?”
“Okay, maybe you are clueless. Mom has disapproved of every choice I’ve made right up until her death. You were her favorite, along with Dad. Pris was always second choice.”
“Gee, thanks,” Pris muttered.
“You never saw it,” Bailey said in surprise. “Mom always talked about you nonstop. Your degree, your teaching, your publications.”
“Riiight. She spoke to me about how I’m wasting my life because I’m too afraid to go after love. Asked me to back off a bit and find real happiness, like everything I’ve done so far has been because of this empty, gaping place inside only a man can fill.” Her laugh was bitter. “Pris made the big romantic sacrifice and you’re the artist Mom always wanted to be.”
Pris blew out a breath. “Mom was proud of all of us in different ways. And I’d appreciate if you didn’t draw me into your arguments. I have my own crap going on.”