He went still. “She gonna be okay?”
“She had back surgery,” I said. “She’s doing much better now.”
“Glad to hear it. Nice lady, your mother.”
Trey appeared, striding onto the scene like a Disney prince, lean build, dark hair, great teeth. “Are you all right?”
Amy turned her face into my shoulder, refusing to look at him. She was probably mortified. “Fine,” I said. “Thanks to, uh...” Well, shoot. I couldn’t remember his name.
Trey extended his hand to our bearded rescuer. “Appreciate it, man.”
The man ignored his gesture. “What the hell were you thinking, bringing these girls to a place like this?”
Trey scowled.
“It was my idea,” I said hastily. “My fault.”
My fault. Amy’s fault. We brought out the worst in each other. We always had. Me running away, her following... Disaster.
“People change,”Trey had insisted.
But where my sisters were concerned, I hadn’t changed at all.
The next morning Amy staggered downstairs looking wan. “Coffee,” she croaked.
I glanced up from my laptop, fighting my own fatigue. “You should eat something first.”
She turned paler, if that were possible. “I can’t.”
“Hangover?” I asked sympathetically.
She sank gracefully into our mother’s chair, closing her eyes. “Jet lag.”
I snorted as I got up to pour her coffee. “Still?” I set the full mug on the table in front of her, bending to kiss her brow. “Merry Christmas.”
She smiled without opening her eyes.
I got back to work on my blog. The recipe was fine. I’d tested it last night. The problem was the tone, which was preachy and treacly and heavy-handed. Ugh.
My phone chimed with a text from Meg.Merry Christmas, darling sisters!
It didn’t feel like Christmas without any stockings or presents. Without a tree. Without our mother home. It was even worse for Amy, I imagined. She must miss all the holiday trappings and fuss. She used to wander through December in a little cloud of glitter, trailing ribbons and glue.
Another ping. Beth, from the hospital.Mom feeling better!!! Best Christmas present ever!!!
I smiled at the news and the string of joyful emojis.Can’t wait to see you all,I typed.
When can you leave???
As soon as Dad gets back from church.I’d stayed home this morning, out of guilt, so Amy wouldn’t wake up alone.
“Who are you texting?” she asked.
“Meg and Beth. They messaged you, too,” I offered.
She sipped her coffee. “I thought maybe it was your boyfriend. The arm-porn guy? From your blog.”
I could have explained that Eric was never my boyfriend. I could have pointed out that Amy had never expressed any interest in my blog before. “We broke up,” I said.
