But maybe they don’t have to. Even if we weren’t close to her, she still gave us life. She still gave usthis. These are memories we can stand in a kitchen and laugh about all these years later.
“Do we, um…need to go through Mom’s stuff at all?” Ivy asks.
We all glance over at her. She’s probably the closest out of all of us to our parents. She’s the youngest, and she still lives here when she’s not away at college—for now, anyway. Liam said in passing that she might stay with him instead of here all alone once Dad’s locked up, but once she graduates in a few months, I wonder where she’ll land.
“You take what you want,” I say quietly to her.
Madden and Liam nod.
“I don’t need anything,” Madden says.
“Neither do I,” Liam adds.
I press my lips together. I feel like I should takesomething. Like I’ll regret leaving here without a single scrap to remind me of my mother. I have the memories, but they’re not memories ofher. They’resiblingmemories that she helped facilitate but wasn’t present for.
Trips we took where the seven of us siblings looked out for one another because our parents were off attending events.
Kitchen wars and fort nights when they were out.
Five brothers messing around with each other while Everleigh joined in, and Ivy peered in as the youngest back when we were all home at the same time. Madden getting mad because he thought he was in charge. Dex starting a food fight, Archer joining in next, Liam in general causing chaos. Me somewhere in the middle trying to maintain fair, orderly rules to a food fight that was never meant to be orderly.
What the hell has become of this family? And what will become of our future if we don’t make the effort to get together outside of weddings and funerals?
And how does what I’m doing with my brother’s ex contribute to any of that?
Nerves strike through my chest as I wait for his arrival.
Nobody knows when he’s coming. Maybe he won’t come at all, or maybe he’ll just attend the funeral. Maybe he doesn’t want to deal with the questions from his siblings or the betrayal of his brother. But there’s also that slightest slice of possibility that he’ll knock on the door next. Nobody ever knows with him.
“I don’tneedanything. But I want something. I just don’t know what,” I admit.
I take the suitcases upstairs with Tatum trailing behind me and Ivy leading the way. I drop our bags in my old room, where Tatum grabs her laptop to answer some pressing emails. I join Ivy in Mom’s closet.
Rows and rows of designer dresses and pantsuits. Racks and racks of designer shoes, size seven. Cases and cases of designer jewelry. Ivy tries on a pair of shoes, and like Cinderella, they’re the perfect fit.
Suitcases, handbags, and tote bags with names even I have heard of. Dior, Chanel, Fendi. I’ll let Ivy and Everleigh take first pick, but maybe there’s something in here Tatum would like. Or maybe our mother already allocated who gets what.
“How’s life?” Ivy asks when we’re alone.
“Life-ing,” I say.
She laughs. “Same. You and Tate now? Is she getting passed to Liam next?”
“Fuck no,” I say, an unexpected darkness in my tone. She better not, anyway.
She purses her lips as she tilts her head at me. “Is it real?”
“It is for me. Always has been,” I admit.
She nods a little. “Thought so. And her?”
“Getting there.”
“So why are you marrying her if she’s not there yet?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Relationships always are.” She sighs, and we both silently survey the contents of the closet. “Why didn’t they take this stuff?”
