“They don’t know what we know. We’ll get through this visit, one step at a time. Just like you told me on Opening Day.”
She lets out a deep breath. “Look at you turning my advice around on me.”
“It worked for me,” I murmur. “There’s got to be some truth to it. What’s one thing you want to see happen while they’re here?”
She’s quiet for so long, I’m worried she’s not going to answer.
“I want them to see that I’m happy. That I don’t need them to rescue me.” Her hand leaves her necklace to land on my heart. “I have everything I need right here.”
“Do you mean that?” I rasp.
Her face softens, the rest of the tension dissipating. “Name something else I could possibly need.”
More of this, forever.More of Phoebe, more moments like this. Days on end where we work in tandem to achieve everything we’ve ever wanted, and then crawling into bed at night.
It’s what I want—what I need—so it’s only fair to hope she does, too.
“That feels like a challenge, Mrs. Wheeler.” I trace her cheekbone with my knuckles and down her jaw. “What about foot rubs every night?”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She smiles, her eyes fluttering shut.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!”
We fly apart at the sound of her mom’s voice.
“I guess it’ll take a minute to remember you two are still in the honeymoon phase.” She winks. “Can I help with dinner?”
“Why don’t you and Mr. Brooks get comfortable?” I offer, palms rubbing together. “Phoebe can keep you company while we get things ready. You must be tired.”
“Nonsense.” She waves me off and breezes into the kitchen. “Surely there’s something I can do.”
We follow, bracing for whatever comes next. But the miraculous part of it is that we’re standing on the same side of the room.
Finally.
“Hi! You must be Chloe’s mother!” Evelyn trills, waiting with a bottle of sparkling cider and two glasses. “I’m so excited to meet you.”
Ofcourseshe is.
thirty-three
CHLOE
Evelyn stoopedto a new low tonight, and I can’t even decide which part of the evening it was. The faux-toasts with cider? The way she called Aiden “grinch-adjacent” and then smiled sweetly? Or the way she made sure my mother saw the single bedroom with one bed.
Now, in the sanctuary of said bedroom, Aiden lounges in the chair by the window, ankle propped on a knee, foot bouncing. We moved his things in here yesterday, and it’s weird that it’snot weird.
I might actually be secretly excited about this, if I wasn’t dreading the conversation I know is about to happen, thanks to the combo of me being a chicken and my sister-in-law being a chaos agent.
I swear she was thriving out there tonight. I’m dreading both of my brothers' arrival.
“So what’s the story with Trevor?” he asks, aiming for casual but failing. The muscle ticking in his jaw gives him away.
“What’s the story with your sister?” I counter, rubbing lotion into my arms a little too aggressively.
“I don’t know.” He tips his head back on the chair.
“I told you she hates me,” I mutter.
