I packed a sweater and leggings just in case I wanted to get comfortable later. It’s a good thing too, since Sandman ruined my beautiful dress. Meela isn’t going to be happy about that one bit.
We dress quickly, and I follow Sandman into a small sitting room near the front of the clubhouse. Cricket and the woman who birthed me sit on opposite ends of the sofa, staring daggers at each other. He vacates the room with a mumbled, “Bitch thinks she’s royalty.”
Anger clogs my throat at the sight of her. I want to scream, rant, call her every obscenity in the human language, but no words come out. I’m too angry to speak.
Then I take in her appearance. No makeup, bags under her eyes, hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, clothes rumpled and stained. She’s had it rough. It’s no less than what she deserves.
“I guess congratulations are in order,” she states, gesturing toward my round belly. “I hear you’re having twin girls. I’m having a daughter too.” She shifts her gaze to Sandman. “The father, I presume?”
“Why are you here?” I snap, not in the mood for fake pleasantries.
She leaps to her feet. “How dare you speak to me like that? I’m your mother—”
“You are not my mother!” I yell so loud she jumps. “You brought me into this world, but you werenevera mother to me. Answer the fucking question.”
Sandman stands to my right, watching the argument unfold in silence.
“I’m not perfect, Zilphia,” she says, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. “I never claimed to be, but I raised you the best way I knew how.”
“Spare me the fucking crocodile tears,Loretta.” She sucks in a sharp breath at the use of her given name. “How could you miss her funeral? Your own mother?” I lose it then, several errant tears tumbling down my cheeks.
“We didn’t want to cause trouble.”
I laugh. “Then you shouldn’t have fucked your sister’s husband. Leave, you’re not welcome here.”
“Zilphia, please. I have nowhere else to go.” Loretta Kensley begging. Never thought I’d see the day.
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Where’s Keith?”
“He abandoned me.” She places a hand on her plump stomach. “What kind of man abandons his pregnant fiancée?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I comment sarcastically. “Maybe the same kind of man who abandons his pregnant wife.” What is this woman smoking?
“She’s your sister, Zilphia. No matter how you feel about me, remember that. I have no money, nowhere to go, and I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I need prenatal vitamins and medical care. Are you really going to send me away to sleep on the streets?”
I want to tell her to kiss my ass, to leave and never show her face again, but I can’t. I need to know that my sister is going to be okay.
I look at Sandman. “Please, for my sister.”
His contemplative gaze studies me for long seconds, and I’m afraid he’s going to toss her on the streets. He isn’t exactly known for his empathic nature, but he surprises me.
“You better get yourself together pronto after that baby’s born, because you ain’t living off my dime,” he tells her.
Seven years ago
I pace the length of the tree house, too excited to stay still even for a moment. Sam should’ve been here by now. I huff out an impatient breath and force myself to sit on the sofa, bouncing a leg in anticipation of his arrival. What’s taking him so long?
“Come on, Sam.” I lean back against the soft cushions and tuck my legs beneath my bottom.
Just as I’m about to stretch out and rest my eyes, I hear the faint sound of approaching footsteps and leap to my feet, a huge grin tugging at my lips.
“Surprise!” I call out the moment Sam walks into the tree house, though I keep my voice low.
I don’t want to wake my brother, or worse, my parents—particularly my mother. If she finds us out here, she’s going to whip my butt something good.
“What’s going on?” Sam asks, looking very confused.
“It’s your birthday, silly.” I grab his hand andlead him to the table. “This is all for you,” I announce, gesturing toward the ham and cheese sandwiches, chips, candy, cupcakes, soda, and a small black case.
