“Stop being a brat, or I’ll make sure you get the extra spicy kind,” Laurel teased.
Cautiously, Haylee dipped a dinky corner of her chip in the salsa bowl and tested it for herself. “Idle threats,” she muttered to Laurel, sticking out her tongue. For a blink, they were kids again—Laurel a teenager and Haylee an innocent seven-year-old. Another blink, and reality returned.
“Did either of you get the laundry switched over?” Mom asked both girls as she helped herself to a chip without salsa. “Melly has a lot of onesies in there.”
Haylee looked on the verge of tears at another chore, so Laurel jumped in as she had so many times before. “I’ll do it now.” Never mind that Melly had more clothes than any baby could possibly need, and most of them were clean.Peacekeeper. That’s your role.
Hovering at the top of the carpeted basement steps, she turned back to say, “Ava and Kinley are coming over soon. We’ll stay in the basement, out of everyone’s way. But watch for them so they don’t forget and ring the doorbell.”
“Wedding planning?” Mom guessed.
“Yeah. They want to make sure they don’t pick out all the same things.” Laurel shook her head at that. She’d opted for a simple wedding. One that didn’t require a heap of planning or too many minute decisions.Not that it matters now.Laurel had mastered compartmentalizing, and she could tuck her pesky emotions away. She was determined to be a good co-maid of honor—for both of her best friends.
“You’re going to bail on me,” Haylee mumbled. “It’s cool.”
“It’s only for the evening.” Watching Haylee yawn hard enough to draw moisture at the corners of her eyes, Laurel relented. “I’ll take the midnight-to-five shift tonight. That way you can get some real sleep.”
“Really?” Haylee did cry then. Happy tears, judging by her relieved expression.
“Have you run that by your father?” Mom chimed in, not nearly as big a fan of Laurel’s flexible work hours as Dad seemed to be. Mom retired from nursing two weeks before Haylee dropped the bomb about the baby on her parents and still hadn’t figured out how to take it easy—or let anyone else, for that matter.
“It’ll be fine,” Laurel reassured Mom. She almost volunteered for more overnight Melly shifts that would give her an excuse to avoid Chase until Jenkins was back in town. But Ava would kill her if she missed the birthday cookout, no matter what her excuse. The two had spent enough years not talking, and Laurel wasn’t about to jeopardize their recently renewed friendship. Looking at Haylee, she added, “Only if you tell Dad I’m taking tomorrow off.”
“Happily,” Haylee announced, swiping at the fresh tears.
Laurel hurried downstairs, pulled the baby clothes out of the dryer, and moved the wet load of towels. Then she set to folding Melly’s many, many outfits.
She’d been a trooper through this whole pregnancy thing with Haylee, shoving down her own emotions to focus on caring for her sister and niece. But moments like these, she closed the door and let tears stream silently down her cheeks, mourning the loss of a child she never got to meet. She swiped at the moisture covering her cheeks, wondering how different her life would be if their child had come into the world. One her family never knew she lost.
She and Chase would still be happily married. Maybe they’d have two kids by now. A third on the way.Not possible anymore.
Laurel sniffled as she sobbed harder.
Five years ago, running away without an explanation seemed the easiest answer to everything. She always meant to tell her familywhyshe left. But the more time that went by, the harder that confession became until she decided against it completely.No need to dredge up the past.
She cried until the tears dried up, then shoved her emotions back down into the imaginary box she kept under lock and key. Her best friends would be here soon, and she didn’t want them to wonder why she was upset. Or worse, Mom to pop in unexpectedly and question her puffy cheeks.
Laurel let out a laugh, wondering how her family would take the news that she and Chase were still legally married.
Of course she wouldn’t tell them that. No point when it would all be finalized in a week.
It doesn’t have to be.
The quick thought startled Laurel and she dropped the purple onesie with the baby elephant. It lodged in the narrow opening between the dryer and the wall, forcing Laurel to stretch her arm longer than it wanted to go.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she muttered. “There is no future there.”
Laurel folded the last onesie, dropped it on the top of the folded pile in the laundry basket, and checked her face in the wall mirror beside the door. The redness in her cheek was nearly gone, so she pasted on her smile and returned upstairs.
The house was blissfully quiet.Melly’s still asleep. If Mom and Haylee were bickering, they were doing it with whispers.
“Momma’s asleep,” Mom said when Laurel topped the steps, nodding at Haylee whose head rested on her folded arms in front of the half-empty chip bowl, her sleeve covered in salsa. If Laurel wasn’t mistaken, a chunk of tomato was stuck in her hair. “I’m notthatbrave,” Mom said with a soft laugh, leaning back against the counter.
Laurel set the folded basket on the passthrough window counter. “How did you handlefiveof us?”
“I think I blacked out the worst of it.”
“You mean the Sadie years?”
