Eliza ran back into the room. “What’s next, Aunt Meredith?”
Meredith handed her a stack of napkins, and she disappeared again. “Have you noticed how she says Aunt Meredith and Uncle Mo and Aunt Bronwyn more than anyone else does?”
Bronwyn chose that moment to enter the kitchen. “What do you mean?”
“None of our other nieces and nephews use our names that much.”
“Ah.” Bronwyn’s smile was forced. “She’s the only person who calls me Aunt Bronwyn, so I hadn’t noticed. My guess is that she loves her new family so much that she’s staking her claim. You’re her aunt and uncle. Every time she says it out loud, and you acknowledge the relationship, you further cement your place in her world and her place in yours.”
“You think?” Meredith pursed her lips. “It makes sense. Wait, no one else calls you Aunt Bronwyn?”
Bronwyn pointed to herself. “Only child. Dysfunctional family.”
Meredith acknowledged the truth of Bronwyn’s words with a slight shrug. “Well, you’ll have another niece soon. But you’ll have to wait a couple of years before she starts butchering your name. I bet she calls you Bobbin. That might be cute.”
Bronwyn’s laugh had a brittle edge that sliced against Mo’s nerves. He loved his sister, but right now he wanted to strangle her. The forced cheer was making him twitchy.
“And you’ll be Aunt Bronwyn to my kids too.” Meredith’s eyes widened, then she rushed to add, “Although, not anytime soon. I’m not sure I’m ready for motherhood. I’m afraid I might mess it all up.”
In his surprise, Mo accidentally made eye contact with Bronwyn.Her eyes reflected his own shock. She gave him a look and a little wave of the hand that he took to mean, “You take this one. I’ve got nothing.”
Okay then. “You’re going to be the most amazing mom ever,” Mo said, meeting Meredith’s eye. “You’re fun personified. You love everybody. You take care of everybody. Your kids will be some of the most loved children in the universe.”
Bronwyn chimed in. “And don’t forget, you have your own parents as examples of how to do it right. You guys turned out pretty awesome.”
Meredith bumped Mo’s arm. “We did, didn’t we?”
Bronwyn wasn’t done. “And, unlike me, you don’t have to worry about turning your children into narcissists or psychopaths. So—”
“That’s not true,” Meredith spoke at the same time he did. It was the closest he’d come to speaking directly to Bronwyn in years, but for her to think that? He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
They were interrupted again by Eliza. “Aunt Bronwyn, Daddy says we need to eat because his girls need their rest.”
“He’s right about that.”
“See,” Meredith whispered. “Mom fail on my end. I didn’t even think of that.”
“You would think about it if you had your own kids,” Bronwyn whispered back. “That’s how it works.”
Mo stayed in the kitchen as the others walked into the dining room. For a moment, it had felt like ... like old times. Like Bronwyn didn’t hate him. Like they were a team and they didn’t need to talk to communicate. They could speak volumes with a look.
He hadn’t forgotten what that was like, but he’d been sure he’d never experience it again.
If he’d dared to hope for it, he would have expected it to be more satisfying. Not like the thrill that he experienced when heuncovered a crime. More like the sense of rightness that came over him when he proved someone’s innocence.
This was neither of those things.
This was walking on fire barefoot while wearing a jacket made of glass shards. Every breath was agony. Every motion was excruciating.
He forced himself to move to the dining room. He ate. He smiled at Eliza. He avoided eye contact with Bronwyn and counted the minutes until they would go to her office.
At some point, the pain lessened enough for him to breathe through it and wonder what had happened. Why now? She’d mostly ignored him for years, and then when she finally deigned to stay in his presence for more than a few seconds, they’d found some kind of weird equilibrium.
It was uncomfortable to be around her at times, but not painful.
Why did this hurt so much?
“Mo?”
