“And he’s got cupcakes.” Brianna gave Victoria a big smile.
Victoria stood from the floor and shook her head. “No, he’s got cookies. The cupcakes are for you, Bri.”
She laughed and came over to my daughter, enveloping her in a hug and kissing the top of her head. “Thanks, Vic,” she whispered.
A smile ghosted my lips, my sister’s text a heavy reminder of how I was short on parental love, but my daughter had it in overabundance. Only the hugest asshole would begrudge her child of that. I decided this holiday that asshole would stop being me.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Every alert made my heart gallop a couple of beats until I forced myself to glance at the screen.
Drew: Guess who showed up?
Me: Wow, and you said he probably wouldn’t.
Drew: I guess it’s the season for miracles. How are things there? Getting along?
Me: Actually, yes. It’s nice.
Drew: I told you so.
Me: They’re both forgiving people. I’m glad they were extra charitable this holiday.
Drew: I’m close enough to spank you if you start in on yourself again.
My cheeks heated before Victoria tapped me on the shoulder.
“Is that Drew?”
“Who’s Drew?” Josh asked from the couch.
“Mommy’s boyfriend,” my daughter answered for me. “He bought us the gift cards to Serendipity and to the comic book store.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I blurted and spied Brianna hold in a laugh.
“That’s a pretty fierce denial. And you know what that means.” Josh wiggled his eyebrows and I popped off the floor on an exasperated sigh.
“What does it mean, Mommy?” Her brow crinkled.
“It means your dad is a troublemaker. Excuse me.”
Scowling at Josh, I stalked in the kitchen just as the phone vibrated in my hand with a call. I glanced at the screen, thinking it was Drew again, but my stomach dropped when I recognized the same number my sister texted me from. This was it. My feet rooted to the tiles on the floor as I clutched the back of one of the dining room chairs. My teeth sank into my shaking bottom lip before I pressed accept.
“Hello?”
“Sara?” Denise’s voice cracked. My chest pinched at the flood of memories. She sounded like the baby sister I was forced to leave almost a decade ago. My nose burned as I struggled to find the air in my lungs to answer.
“Hi, Denise. Merry Christmas.”
“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered. “And I’d love to meet my niece. Does she know about me?”
Whenever Victoria would ask about my family, I would respond with an abrupt change in subject. Telling her I had a sister and answering questions was too painful for me to even attempt.
“No, but I’d like her to. Maybe Saturday we could find somewhere to meet up.”
“Why don’t you come here? It’s been so long, Sara,” she pleaded.
“That’s because I’m not welcome there. I’m surprised they opened my cards.”
“Well, they didn’t, I did . . . but I show them her picture every year. Please, Sara.”
