Fred scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
“Fred!”
“Well!” he says. “I can only sit around for so long while they treat you like this. It’s ridiculous. It took these basically strangers four seconds to be proud of you for retiring, but your parents? Who are supposed to know you and love you and want what’s best for you? They basically called you stupid and then wished with all their might that you’d go back into the work force and slog through it for the next forty years for the sake of their peace of mind.” He turns to our parents. “I love you, and Lia loves you, but we all know that’s messed up. Even Archie’s family can see that it’s messed up, and we’ve been here a single day,” he grumbles. “You’re never just… happy for us. It’s always some critique, some judgement, somesomethingin the name of ‘wanting what’s best’ for us. Have you ever considered that what’s best for us is to figure some stuff out on our own?” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “I mean, geez, Lia’s nearly thirty years old and you’re still acting like she’s five. When does it end?”
Dad’s brows pull low over his eyes, and Mom looks like she’s been slapped. “We’re happy for you,” she says weakly. “Of course we’re happy for you.”
“Mom,” Fred objects. “Lia’s retired and gotten married all in the same week, and neither of you have congratulated her. Look at her.” He throws a hand out toward me. “She’s a nervous wreck, and it’s not because of her situation. It’s because ofyou. She was so happy to tell us that she was retiring. And youknowshe’s happy to be married to Archie. She’s only been obsessed with him for-freaking-ever. And now that we’re here, you can tell she’s clearly married into a good, loving, well-adjusted family. But you’restillnot happy for her. You’re still not congratulating her. You’re too caught up in your own anxiety about the possibility that shemaybewon’t be okay that you’renot addressing the very real danger of her being so okay and healed that she realizes having your sort of energy in her life isterriblefor her.”
Ah, and now Dad looks likehe’sbeen slapped.
“I’m not dropping anyone from my life,” I declare, shooting Fred the stink eye. “And I don’t appreciate the implication that I would.”
Fred shrugs. “Well, maybe you won’t, but I will. I’m not sticking around for ten-and-a-quarter extra years after I turn eighteen if it’s just to be babied.”
“Fred,” I protest.
“I think,” Archie says, “that perhaps everyone would be more comfortable if this conversation were happening in private.”
I tear my eyes off of my brother to see that the only people uncomfortable are me, my dad, and my mom. Sal, Heidi, and Millie appear to be treating this like their own personal TV drama while Basil and Stryker watch on, eyes and body alert—for what, I don’t even want to know, but I appreciate the protective energy anyway. Rosie’s expression veers more toward concern than discomfort, and Fred is… Fred. Boyish, stubborn, and certain he’sright. It doesn’t help that he pretty much is.
I turn to Archie, pressing my hand down on his in a silent thanks. His eyes flick from my parents to me, and his mouth tips up in a rueful smile as he rises. “I have a family meeting room inside,” he tells my parents. “If you’ll follow me?”
Mom visibly works to regain her composure, blinking rapidly as she takes several deep breaths before standing. Dad follows her lead.
I get up also, sending only one regretful look at the untouched chocolate cake before grabbing Fred by the ear and dragging him up after me.
“If we’re not here when you’re done, I’ll bring by some cake tomorrow,” Rosie promises. “And we’ll clean all this up. You go take care of your family, dear. We’ll take care of ours.”
As my eyes meet her soft brown ones, something settles in my chest, because I know that when she saysours, I’m included in her count.
I send a small, grateful smile to the table at large and receive several back.
Then, I tighten my hold on my brother’s ear, turn, and follow my husband to the Chamber of Doom—oh, sorry, I meant, theChamber of Healthy Adult Communication and Healing.
The Chamber of Doom is in the basement, and—if I’m so honest—I think I’d prefer being strapped to that table than having the conversation I’m about to…Yippie.
Chapter Twenty-Four
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Sarelia
“In case you need it,” Archie murmurs, setting a small, otter-shaped notepad in my lap. He drops a black gel pen after it, then kisses my forehead before straightening to stand beside the big, round chair I chose for my seat.
My family sits across from us on the soft couch in varying stages ofemotion.
Fred slouches, crossing his arms and pouting. “I don’t see why I need to be here for this,” he grumbles. “I didn’t even get to try any of the chicken. Not to mention the cake. I’msuffering.”
“Rosie said she’d bring us cake tomorrow,” I remind him. “You were right there. You heard her.”
“We’releavingtomorrow,” he whines. “We’re going to miss it!”
“You’ll get cake before you leave,” Archie promises. “But, as much as it hurts to say, cake does not take precedence over communication, and you may not instigate a serious conversation and then abandon it to your sister for the sake of confection. Defending her is only honorable if you are willing to sacrifice to do it. That’s basic chivalry.”
Fred’s eyes hit mine, wide and incredulous. “Did you marry a knight?” he asks. “Who talks like that?”
“I did,” I confirm, pride welling in my chest. “And he’s absolutely right. No cake for you.”
