Lindsay had never really felt like a Bluth.
In between all the boyfights and business and brown hair there was Lindsay, blonde and pale and liberal, who wasn't interested in the banana stand or magic tricks or being neither seen nor heard; and if her father had adored her, she wished her mother would have looked at her with something other than diet tips and a directive to sit up straight, slouching makes you look fat and god knows you don't need any help with that.
Sometimes it felt like Michael was in the middle with her, and Lindsay had always liked those times the best. But Michael had always known what he wanted to do. He had always known who he was. And he was really a Bluth, besides.
Even after Lindsay was adopted, he still hadn't wanted to marry her, and that wasn't right. He was supposed to be her knight in shining armour.
But she had always been good at making men fall in love with her.
Michael hadn't stood a chance.