Sighing, he closes the fridge and turns toward me.
“Let me rephrase. I’m making pasta. You’re eating with us.”
“If you’re sure.”
I scroll through my phone and make the mistake of opening an email frommy mother. She sent me a link to aBaywood Gazettefeature about Penelope.
I read out loud while Cole starts slicing tomatoes.
“When you step into the pristine home of Dr. Penelope Stone, you know you are in the presence of greatness. The marble floors gleam, the white walls dazzle, and there is a single orchid on the coffee table. ‘It symbolizes perfection, which is my core value in life,’ Dr. Stone explains.”
“At least she’s honest about her priorities,” Cole says with a grimace.
I continue .
“Dr. Stone is one of the youngest neurosurgeons to receive national recognition. ‘I don’t like to talk about my pro bono cases or my other good deeds,’ she says with a gracious smile.”
Cole snorts.
“But here’s how you can subscribe to my daily newsletter about them.”
“There’s a quote from Daniel,” I tell him. “My wife inspires me daily. She is a paragon of discipline and grace.”
Cole lifts one eyebrow. “Did he say that before or after the lobotomy?”
I huff a laugh, but it comes out thin. Underneath it all, something coils inmy chest. The kind of tension that builds every time I think about my family.
“Oh, there’s a quote from Mother as well.”
I scan the words and realize this is probably why she sent me the link.
“I’m so fortunate to have one successful child.”
I should be used to this, but sometimes—especially when I’m not prepared—my family’s words pierce skin.
Cole looks livid.
“She’s unbelievable,” he seethes, slicing more aggressively. “Mom is going to rip her to shreds the next time they meet.”
This time, I manage a real grin.
“I love having your mom in my corner.”
Then I let out a long breath.
“I know I shouldn’t complain, not with all the privileges I have, but when I think about my family, all I feel is…”
I fall silent. Even Cole doesn’t know the whole truth about my childhood.
“Privilege doesn’t erase trauma,” Cole points out, setting down the knife. “If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m okay. Really. Sometimes I just get tired of being the official disappointment. Tired of pretending I don’t care.”
“Of course you care. That’s not a flaw. And you’re not a disappointment.”
Cole waits until I meet his eyes.
“You’re the one who always shows up when people need help.”
