Hallie smiled, focusing on how her heart squeezed with Sydney’s words. She reached across the console and grabbed Sydney’s hand. Maybe she didn’t understand, specifically, what it was like to have the type of love that Reese and Sydney had found together, but she was always going to support her best friend.
“As if you could keep me away.” She shot Sydney a playful smile and added, “And I prefer the middle if we’re all sleeping in the king-size bed together. Just to be clear.”
It was anothergloriousmorning at Mason and Claire’s house in Colorado. Her seventh in a row, in fact, of waking up on a sofa.
Each morning with the rising sun, like she had been shipped off to military school, she stood up, stretched, and then removed any traces of herself from the room that would become the hearth for seven humans. At least two of them, Henry and Elliot, only weighed about twenty-five pounds each and didn’t take up too much space, but what they lacked in size, they more than made up for in enthusiasm. They’d learned to crawl on furniture, so she was playing Beat the Clock when it came to making sure that she could wake up to an alarm instead of a tiny, sticky hand in her mouth. Or ear. Or nose. Kids, she was learning, were really creative and curious like that.
By her battle-tested calculations and multiple morning run-ins with different members of the Thatcher family—always while she was in various states of undress—she figured that she had somewhere between fifteen and thirty minutes to grab a shower in the downstairs bathroom and get herself ready for the day.
Brushing her teeth, she wondered again why her family had acted surprised that, in a house with five bedrooms, she’d assumed that there would be a bed for her to sleep in. Definitely not her. But, as she’d learned upon arrival, her parents had a standing guest room along with Mason and Claire both having home offices.
Still, when you considered the additional three bedrooms at her parents’ house, the concept of her sleeping on a sofa seemed sort of absurd, even if she didn’t voice it out loud. Especially because it had been made clear when the sofa was so graciously bestowed upon her that the rest of her family didn’t see it that way. Sure, her parents had offered her their house to use, but with their insistence that they couldn’t miss a moment of Christmas with the twins now that they lived in Colorado, it felt weird for her to stay a twenty-minute drive away. And she justknew that she’d always have to ask—or, more accurately, beg—someone to give her rides back and forth. That hadn’t worked out well for her in childhood, hence why Sydney always hung out at the inn instead of the two of them playing at Sydney’s house.
So Hallie had started setting her alarm for six thirty a.m., just to ensure they didn’t have any repeats of, specifically, her first morning here. Hallie would never forget the feeling of a Cheerio shoved so far up her nose that she’d seriously wondered whether medical intervention would be needed to remove it. She’d sat on the sofa pondering all of her life choices, her family milling around her but not overly concerned with her bodily obstruction. They were absorbed in the twins while they scribbled on her completedNew York Timescrossword, and she’d been pretty consumed herself, wondering how long, if the worst-case scenario came to pass, it would take for a Cheerio to disintegrate. Luckily, with an especially aggressive push of air through her free nostril, she’d been able to dislodge it.
Still, her nephews were cute. She’d give them that. They had the softest hair. They smelled amazing—usually. And it was really fun to watch them explore and take in the world around them, sometimes for the first time.
A few days ago, Henry had fallen asleep on her chest. His tiny body had been pressed against her, and he made the sweetest little snoring sounds. She wished that moment—the feeling of comfort and trust and safety, for both of them—could have been extended for the rest of her trip.
She was realizing, though, that there was still a lot unspoken, at least on Hallie’s side, when it came to her family. Which was making it hard for her to enjoy the time she was spending here.
And, even though it may have seemed silly, she’d been sort of looking forward to framing her completed crossword puzzle in the spirit of better celebrating her accomplishments.
Tucked in between an older brother who’d just gotten a promotion to VP of engineering at his tech start-up, a sister-in-law who, even six months back from maternity leave, made it seem like she’d never left the partner track at her law firm, and two fifteen-month-old babies that could both runandsay five words in addition to “mama” and “dada,” and there wasn’t much celebration to be had for a crossword puzzle. Done in pen or not.
She shimmied out of her shorts and tank top—apparently babies and retirees alike could only exist in what bordered on sweltering heat while somehow also being dry because it was, after all, the middle of winter—and turned on the shower.
Sometimes, the twins would get baths downstairs if they were especially messy, so she made sure to remove any of the toys from the shower basin that could likely impale her foot, as she’d learned was a possibility on day two of her visit.
She stepped under the spray and took a deep, cleansing breath, wondering how loudly she could scream without anyone hearing her. But she wouldn’t do that. Part of her wondered if that was because she was convinced that they wouldn’t come running anyway.
Instead, she focused on the water running down her body, trying to bask in the few moments of quiet before the chaos of the house descended on her.
She’d also learned, by day three—which happened to be Christmas—that it was very important that the twins werefifteen months old. Every adult in the home had referenced this on numerous occasions. Not a little over a year. Not about a year and three months. In the world of baby milestones, every day counted. How could she possibly understand how advanced they were for their ages if she believed they were behind on the key metrics that proved they were better than any other baby?
As if the world would melt down if Mason and Claire hadn’t produced the most prodigious offspring known to man.
She’d always remember that Elliot had tried to stick a Cheerio up his own nose, too, even if they wouldn’t.
Her suggestion that she start referring to them in age by their total number of days alive was vetoed. Apparently, an accomplishment by a four-hundred-and-forty-five-day-old didn’t have quite the same ring.
By day four (of her trip, that is) and onward, she’d relented to her new reality and began to plan accordingly. Maybe, more accurately, it qualified as disassociation, but that was between her and her mental health.
Hallie had known, coming into this trip, that it wasn’t entrenched in excitement for her, but she still hadn’t anticipated that it would besobad.
Or that it would make her feel so… badly.
Maybe, on some level, it was why she’d had a sinking feeling whenever she’d thought about spending Christmas here.
She winced with the grim acceptance of her reality while she lathered baby shampoo into her hair.
The truth was, for most of her life, she’d felt like an afterthought in her family. Mason was five years older, but it was like by the time she’d come along, they’d already decided that all of their energy would be poured into him, along with the inn, and that didn’t leave much time for anyone else. Hallie included.
Tears prickled behind her eyes. This baby shampoo was definitely not as advertised.
Over the years, Hallie had found a way to make herself okay with the disparity in her family. What other option did she have?
Mason was gifted. Intelligent. Athletic. Of course their parents should sink their focus into a winning horse. Why wouldn’t they over-index on his sports practices and away games and extracurriculars? It wasn’t like they were resting on their laurels otherwise. Her parents worked nonstop at the inn whenthey weren’t managing his schedule, and Hallie had understood it. Appreciated it, even.
