“Goodnight,” I replied, hanging up.
When I turned back, Natalie was looking out the window, her features tight.
The steaks were done, and I carried them inside. “Dinner’s ready,” I said, setting the plates on the table.
“I think I should go,” Natalie said softly.
“Stop,” I said, my voice firm. “Eat with me. It’s still mooing, just like you wanted.”
She managed a small laugh. “Okay. I’m starving.”
After dinner, Natalie helped clear the plates, then called Bebe and James down to get ready to leave. I walked them to the car, wanting so badly to kiss her, to ask her to stay forever. But instead, I said, “Good work today.”
She smiled faintly. “You, too.”
As I watched her drive away, I wondered—like I always did—where our paths would lead.
CHAPTER 10
DOUBLE TAKE
NATALIE
Icouldn’t believe the day I just had. It started with an email from the hot Brit who wanted to take me on a date, followed by me having sex with Will—twice—and endedwith him practically running out of my house. Then, later, we were playing house at his. All of this after landing another client and a strong possibility for another.
I had to admit, it felt nice to be around Will. But I knew this wouldn’t last. It could only be like this every other week, the weeks when his kids were with their mom. Will had his children fifty percent of the time, one week on, one week off.
Not that I didn’t like his kids. I did. I adored Ivy, the boys were polite and sweet. But Madison was in such a fragile state. A teenager. She was navigating the most delicate years of her life, and I couldn’t ignore how easily she could be hurt.
I remembered all too well what it was like to be her age and feel replaced.
My mother had never been particularly maternal. She was distracted, more focused on her own dreams than our day-to-day lives. Even when she was physically there, it always felt like her mind was elsewhere. After the divorce, she drifted further. There was no dramatic exit—just a slow fade, like she’d quietly opted out of motherhood.
So, my dad did what he thought was best. He went looking for someone to fill the space. Someone who looked the part. And within six months, Veronica was in the picture.
They met through a colleague; they were both in insurance. They dated for six months, got engaged, and were married shortly thereafter.
Veronica came from money and carried herself like it gave her authority over everything. She was old-fashioned, emotionally distant, and always had something to say like, “When I was your age, I was at boarding school. I didn’t need anyone.” Her words were polished and precisely sharp enough to make you feel inadequate without ever sounding unkind.
She never raised her voice. She didn’t have to. Her disapproval came through hollow smiles and glances that could shrink you without a word. Her silence changed the energy in a room. We were never enough. Never mature enough. Never truly hers.
She didn’t want kids. My dad couldn’t see it, but Meredith and I could. She pushed us toward independence like it was a chore on her list. Every summer, we were sent away to sleepaway camp. She took any opportunity to keep us at a distance.
To my father, she was composed and capable. But we knew the truth. Everything she did was calculated to keep us out of her world, all while making it look like she had done her part.
She never once told us she loved us.
The only thing she truly invested in was our college applications—not because she cared, but because it got us out ofthe house. For her, success wasn’t about our future. It was about our absence. It was about our silence.
The only real warmth we had during those years came in small doses. Our grandparents lived a half hour away and would visit when they could. Our aunt would take us for weekends from time to time. Those moments were rare, but they reminded us of what it felt like to be wanted—to be loved without having to earn it.
Meredith and I clung to each other. Even though we had our own rooms, we almost always ended up in mine, whispering late into the night about how different our lives would be one day. I used to tell her about the life I wanted. Two children, a boy and a girl. We’d bake cookies together. My husband would be handsome. Our house would look like something out ofHome & Garden, just like the vision board I’d made and taped beside Brad Pitt on my bedroom wall.
What I wanted more than anything was a life that looked whole—even if it was a little broken underneath. I thought if I could make it beautiful enough, safe enough, maybe it wouldn’t fall apart the way mine had.
Meredith would smile and say she wanted to work in fashion and photography, but marriage wasn’t for her. Not after what we’d seen.
Looking back now, I understand both of us better. I spent years trying to build something flawless, while Meredith built walls around her heart so no one could ever leave her the way we’d been left.
