I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, alright. But I’m getting the cheese cup. And you’re buying.”
As the server dropped the pretzel, Doyle stiffened in his seat.
“It’s not exactlyCheese, Please!caliber,” I said, biting in. “But we’re drunk, and it’s edible. Now’s not the time to be a diva.”
He shook his head and reached into his messenger bag, pulling out a worn envelope—edges soft, creased, like he’d been carrying it around for weeks. “I found this in her room,” he said, sliding it across the sticky table. “I’ve been struggling with when to give it to you. And probably not for the reason you think.”
My gaze bounced between him and the envelope like it might explode.
“I don’t know what she says,” he added, nodding toward it. “Didn’t open it. I wanted to, because I’m nosey. But I was afraid she’d say…”
The anger came fast, hot up my neck. “Just spit it out.”
“Okay, fine.” He took a huge gulp of cider and slammed his glass down. “I’m afraid she’s gonna tell you to fuck off. That she didn’t love you. Because shutting people out is her go-to defense. And I know you’ve got a lot going on, and I didn’t want to make it worse and—”
I held up a hand. “You should’ve given it to me when you found it. No matter what it says. You’ve been a shitty friend lately, Doyle. And I’m trying—really trying—to give you grace. But it’s getting harder every time we do this.”
“You’re right. I have been a shitty friend. And a shitty brother.” He stood, grabbing his bag and one last piece of pretzel. “I’ve got things to work on, and so do you. Let that be our New Year’s resolution.”
I frowned.
“To be better,” he said, stepping back. “For the people who love us. That includes being a little less selfish for me… and a littlemoreselfish for you.”
Chapter Forty-One
TALLY
Sittinginthenursery,Nancy snoring at my feet, I couldn’t stop thinking about Savannah. I couldn’t stop thinking about Charlie, of course, but being in my childhood home, in the rooms where Doyle and I were a power unit, forged so tightly together by the chaos of our mother’s moods and shifting affections, I missed my original person. I missed my goddamn brother, despite how we left things, despite that he, solely, was the reason for my broken heart.
The nursery was starting to come together. For once in my thirty-one years, Momma and I actually agreed on something—we’d painted the room a soft mint green. My old crib and herold rocking chair looked downright quaint against the white rug. Daddy had even hung up some photos from my own nursery days, framed like relics.
And on the side table next to the rocker sat the watercolor Charlie made me. Me and The Waving Girl.
“That’s me and you, kid,” I whispered to my belly as I lowered myself into the chair. “It’s the only picture of the two of us so far.”
The thought hit like a lightning bolt—not only had Charlie had captured the sheer loneliness of being Tally River Aden, but something else, too.
He’d seen this version of me. Tally River Aden, the mother. And he’d loved her anyway. Loved us anyway, even though this baby wasn’t his.
Nancy Reagan groaned from her blanket nest on the floor, shooting me a look like even she was over this pity party. I knelt, ran my fingers through the scruff behind her ears, and sighed.
“You think I’m overreacting?” I asked her softly. “Or not enough?”
She huffed and flopped dramatically onto her side.
“Yeah. That’s fair.”
I settled back into the rocking chair, one hand on my belly, the other reaching for my phone. Doyle was the first person I’d called when I, in a blurry haze of wine drunkenness, realized I was pregnant, and I’d envisioned us doing this together. Me, the doting mother I always needed, him, the uncle that would sweep in with presents and terrible jokes, the one who’d teach her to be fearless. I decided to be the bigger person.
Doyle answered on the second ring.
“Is it time, is the baby coming? I can get on a plane right now, Tal, I swear to God—”
Aha, so he didn’t hate me.
“No,” I sighed, and I could practically hear him deflate on the other end. “It’s not time. I just... I’m sitting in your old room, which is the baby’s nursery now, by the way, and I’m remembering all the times we used to sit in here late at night, telling each other secrets and making plans together. And I...”
“I’m sorry, Tal.” His voice cracked, and that’s how I knew he meant it. “I should have never done this to you. You should be here... especially now.”
