Sammi Parks was one of those friends who was perfect to be around with at the worst possible times, and sometimes, even the best of times. He was there for you when you needed someone to make you feel better, or feel good about yourself, even if only for a few hours. He knew exactly what you needed, told you what you wanted to hear and was always there for you whenever you needed him.

But Sammi wasn't exactly a friend though he considered you like one, especially when you had something he wanted. He simply sold drugs. The appearance of friendship was just part of the business for some of his customers, if not all of them. It encouraged trust, making his customers believe that what he was selling them was prime stuff, the best. And it had always been the best. Why else did Riley get addicted to his stuff over every other dealer in the Upper West Side?

Riley had known all this before she'd started buying from Sammi three years ago because Gareth had to do some research for a guest role as a drug dealer for a TV series, and Sammi had let him in on his secrets. By the time Gareth left her, she knew where to find Sammi on her own, and when she did, she had the money to burn.

And now, two years after she'd almost died from her overdose, Riley found herself standing in front of Sammi's apartment building. It was late afternoon, and the only thing Riley wanted to do was drown her emotions, to un-see what she'd seen in Paige's garden office and un-hear Gareth's words. She didn't care if she had to go back to heroin. Maybe just a little to take the edge off, help her go through the rest of her day. Surely Sammi would help her there, she thought, if only to escape from the feelings that filled her now.

Riley wished she could start the whole day again, or at least that part where she thought going over to Paige's house was the best way to spend an afternoon, where they'd chat about life over glasses of white wine and wait till the triplets returned home from pre-school. Then they'd all pile on top of her, and she'd tickle them one by one. She'd start off with Thomas before moving to Trey, and all the while Trevor would scream, 'My turn! My turn!' and squeal with unbridled glee when Riley finally got to him.

Maybe they'd ask her to help them build a boat out of all the throw pillows they could find, shaped into an oval on the rug. Paige would lay a large blanket over their intricate arrangement so that Riley and the triplets could pile into it, pretending it was their boat and that they were adrift in the ocean. Trevor and Thomas would go fishing, and Trey would snuggle up next to Riley.

"Yo, Riley," Sammi said, emerging from the lobby. "You coming up or you just gonna stand there and be a stranger? There's a party upstairs. Come on in."

Riley took a step forward, the words refusing to come out of her mouth. Just for a little bit, she would have said. Just to take the edge off. But as she gazed at Sammi's face, she could only see her nephews' faces, jolting her. She shook her head and apologized. "Sorry, I thought I was free, but I have to be somewhere."

"What?" Sammi held out his arms as Riley walked away from him, her head hung low. "C'mon, baby, don't be cruel. Where's my hug, baby girl?"

"Sorry, Sammi, gotta go!" She called out, forcing a smile as she looked back at him, wishing she were as far away as possible from the past that she'd almost welcomed back. "I'll call you, alright?"

Hadn't she learned anything from that awful night more than two years ago, when she lost control and injected too much? When, after reading something Gareth had reportedly said about his success, that he could only credit sheer determination and luck to get him, a relative unknown, to star in an upcoming super-hero movie, she lost it and thought of ending her life with a push of a syringe?

She'd denied it—that she'd tried to kill herself—even when it was true. But she had nothing to live for then, or at least that's what she'd thought then. No one understood how going back home to live with her father had been the worst thing for Riley, how listening to his taunts about what a failure she was pushed her to find solace in heroin. She had no one to turn to who'd have listened, not when everyone told her to just move on.

And all that time, they'd cheated on her.

Still, that Gareth couldn't even be bothered to acknowledge her as part of his success was like a knife to her heart. She'd trusted him with her life since she was seven years old, gave herself to him when she was eighteen (because he actually waited) and then, determined that he'd be able to show up for his auditions, learn his craft and be there for rehearsals. She worked two jobs even though she was always exhausted, and would have wanted to attend college so that he could achieve his dream. Sure, it was selfish of her to think that way—to expect some credit for his success—but it didn't make the pain feel any less than it did.

Riley walked past a violinist in the subway, playing a haunting tune, and she absently dug out a five-dollar bill from her pocket and dropped it into his violin case. She'd gone through all those months in the upstate rehab center that Paige had sent her to, determined not to end up as a corpse on a cold metal slab whose track marks told the coroner her history before the blood had drained from her body.

She had made it out of that hell, yet here she was, thinking of going back.

What about Ashe?

How could she even consider taking drugs again when she had a man who loved her, who texted pictures to show her where he wished she was, which was right next to him? When had she lost sight of the things she had, focusing instead on the things she didn't have and didn't need? None of it mattered in the end, for she had lost Gareth long before that afternoon when Hollywood called his name three years ago.

But Riley's anger was no longer focused on Gareth. It was focused on Paige, the sister who'd just betrayed her. She didn't care what Gareth said, that Paige wasn't the one who kicked her out of the apartment, or that she didn't give her the money.

It was Paige. It had always been Paige.

* * *

Paige wasn't home when Riley called her at nine that night. Clint said she had gone to Soho House to hang out with some of her friends since it was a girls' night. How ironic, thought Riley, that Clint was so sharp at making money yet completely oblivious when it came to his wife. Was that how certain people functioned, with one sense honed to perfection at the cost of others? Was that how some partnerships worked?

She almost told him that there was no girls' night, that it wasn't until next week. But Riley went to Soho House anyway. Maybe she was hoping to catch Paige and Gareth together and humiliate them, or at least just Paige, for Gareth had lost all sense of shame a long time ago.

As Riley walked across the lobby, she spotted Paige at the bar sitting by herself, dressed in a simple white blouse and slacks, her back toward Riley. As she found an empty table in the far corner and sat down, she wondered if Paige was waiting for Gareth. It would have been too much of a coincidence, Riley thought, even if she vaguely remembered seeing something on Twitter about someone spotting Gareth at JFK. But it could have been old news. Gareth could still be at the hotel.

But if Paige was waiting for Gareth, she was waiting a long time, Riley thought as she glanced at her watch half an hour later. Paige simply sat at the bar, drinking by herself and turning away every man who spoke to her till finally, they left her alone.

It was now or never, Riley thought, as she headed for the bar and sat on the stool next to Paige, the woman she had looked up to for so long though her idol's feet had now turned to clay.

Jake, the bartender, greeted her as she sat down and asked her if she was having the usual. It was always vodka sours for Riley, just as it was Manhattans for Paige. Jake put her drink in front of her and looked at both their faces, frowned and then he said he'd be at the other end of the bar if they needed him.

"I know Clint is twenty years older than you, and maybe things aren't that great in the bedroom, but I sure hope it was worth it, Paige," Riley said, not looking at her sister. "All that talk about hating Gareth was just an act, wasn't it?"

"It wasn't an act," Paige said, her gaze straight ahead. "But you wouldn't understand."

"Really?" Riley asked, turning to face her. "Why could I possibly not understand what I saw today? Why was he there in the first place? Did you call him to come over?"

"Why would I call him?" Paige asked, turning to face here. "He came to the house and accused me of kicking you out of your apartment three years ago and giving you money to start over somewhere else—money you ended up using to buy your drugs."

"Yeah, right," Riley scoffed.

"He said he never even knew you got kicked out of the apartment," Paige continued. "I had always thought he was the one to kick you out of that place, but I had no idea about the money. I had always wondered where you got all that money to buy your drugs with, but why he'd think it was me is beyond me. You're my sister, Ri."

"The sister whose boyfriend you happen to fuck while I was with him," Riley said, and Paige stared at her, her face turning pale. "Yes, he told me that it happened once when we were together, but never again—until today."

Riley seethed. She wanted to take Paige down, kick her and punch her and pull her hair. She wanted to shout to the world that Paige Caldwell was cheating with Gareth Roman and that she was far from the loving wife and mother that everyone thought she was. But Riley couldn't do that, not when it meant humiliating her nephews. She was better than that.

"I don't care if he's blowing smoke up my ass about you and him being together only once when we were together, Paige, but it still doesn't change anything. You fucked Gareth. Not only that, but I think you kicked me out of that apartment, and you left me all that money just so I'd go away, I don't know, to New Jersey maybe, or to Hollywood and chase after him."

Paige sighed. Riley realized that her sister's shoulders were slumped forward, which was unlike the Paige she knew, who always had her back straight and her shoulders proudly squared. But the woman who once had nothing to hide was nowhere to be seen.

"I would never kick you out of your apartment or leave you twenty grand, Riley," Paige said. "Can we talk about this somewhere private?"

Suddenly Riley didn't want to hear another word. She had said what she wanted to say, and she was tired. She just wanted to go home, curl up in her bed for a few hours and shut out the world till Ashe came back. Then she could start over and pretend none of this had ever happened. But she also didn't want Paige to think she'd simply blow this over without suffering any repercussions of her own. She wanted Paige to suffer, not caring what Gareth told her—that it was all his fault and not Paige's.

"Here's the deal," Riley began through gritted teeth. "You've been intent on trying to live my life for me, telling me who to see, what to wear and where to go—all for my sake. Now it's my turn to tell you what I want for a change. I don't wish to hear from you anymore. I don't want you to call me, text me, email me, visit me or contact me in any way. The world can go to hell in a hand basket for all I care, but you will never see me again."

"Riley-"

"No, you listen," Riley said, still keeping her voice low. "I'm going to live my life from here on as if I'd never had a sister, and if you have one inch of respect left in you, you won't contact me at all or even show up at the cafe. If you do, I will tell Clint what I saw in your office. I guarantee you, Paige, that not even being the darling socialite of Manhattan will save you from losing whatever you get being Clint's wife—money, status, whatever. And Gareth won't give a crap what happens to you."

Paige paled. "Riley, please—"

"Don't you dare say anything else. You'll just work your usual magic on me and make me see things your way all over again. Well, I'm done with that. I'm going to live my life on my terms, and from here on in I have no sister."

"Riley, the boys..."

"I don't have any nephews, either. Make up whatever reason you like why I'm never coming to see them again, but it's your problem. You should have thought about them first before you fucked him again," Riley said, her rage barely controlled now.

Something told her she was overdoing it with her nephews, for they did nothing wrong, but Riley couldn't stop herself. She'd never been in this position before, being able to name her terms, no matter how ridiculous and cruel they were, and she loved and hated that it felt so freeing, even if the collateral damage included her nephews.

"You and Gareth did this to yourselves, Paige. You made your bed, now lie in it." With that Riley got up, leaving her drink untouched, and walked out. She should have felt satisfied with what she'd done, severing all ties with her sister and standing up for herself as well as she knew how at that moment, even if her actions were only the result of blind rage. But Riley didn't feel any satisfaction after she'd said her piece, cutting herself off from the only family she had.

She felt no relief even when she arrived home either, locking the door behind her and stepping into the shower, hoping the water would wash away all the regret. Instead, the tears came as she curled up in her bed. They were tears of betrayal and loss, but most of all they were tears for what was to come, the repercussions of being alone, really alone.

And she found herself wondering if she was only doing what was right for her, cutting all ties with Paige, why did she feel so miserable? Why was there a hole in the middle of her chest, growing deeper with every passing minute? Why did she feel so hollow?