“I thought I was your brother.” Charlie slips his hand into mine as he appears at my side.
“You are now! We did it! We’re related.” Paige holds up a hand, and Charlie gives her a high five.
I glare back and forth between the two of them. “That was your game all along? Seduce us innocent Lamonts just so you could have a familial connection?” I jab a finger into Charlie’s belly, and he acts like the attack hit harder than it did. “Divorce! I declare grounds for divorce!”
“Too late. You already fell in love with me.” My husband hugs me tighter to his side.
The tension from bringing Leo into the group fades as we all exchange lighthearted jabs. Doesn’t hurt that there are plenty of drinks going around. Then Pig and Pumpkin sprint between us, racing each other around the yard in a game of chase that haseveryone laughing. At one point, Paige’s mom joins our group, and she ropes both of my brothers into a conversation about classic Chevys, which she restores as a career.
I duck away from the gathering to use the bathroom, giving Pig a loving pat on the belly when I pass by the spot where she’s collapsed on the grass.
When I step back outside, I pause, surprised at how much I enjoy the happy buzz of conversation mixing with the occasional dog bark and some gentle music. Violet must have brought one of her guitars because she’s perched on a lawn chair with the instrument in her lap as Rosa reclines next to her, humming a tune with her eyes closed.
A movement catches my eye, and in the shadows, just beyond the glow of the party, I see her.
My mother.
Vivian makes no move to come closer. She stands just inside the gate opening, arms crossed tight over her chest, her eyes not on the celebration, but on the house itself.
She stares at the little building as if it confuses her.
I don’t know her purpose for coming, but like I’ve done plenty of times in the past, I decide to head her off before she can damage my brothers.
“Vivian,” I say in greeting.
She starts, just realizing I’m only feet away. Then her brows dip, and she reaches into her large purse, focusing on her hands rather than me. “When did I stop being Mom?”
I wonder what she’s looking for. Maybe a birthday gift?
She pulls her hand out, holding a box of cigarettes.
Yeah, no.
“When did you start?”
Her eyes narrow at me, and I brace for the fight.
But then her shoulders sag, and she drops the smokes back into the recesses of her purse.
“I haven’t done what mothers should, I guess.”
Even as she wilts under my scrutiny, my mother is still a gorgeous woman. Her dark hair has a loose curl as the strands fall halfway down her back. The skintight dress she’s wearing shows a body just as in shape as mine. Plenty of people would think we’re sisters.
A connection sparks in my mind then. Thirty years ago today, this woman lay in a hospital bed, screaming her head off as she pushed me and then Leo out into the world.
She was eighteen. Probably terrified.
I could almost feel bad for that young woman, suddenly expected to care for two new lives when she had barely lived any of her own.
But a tough situation doesn’t excuse her neglect.
Someone can be scared and still do the right thing.
“Why are you here?”
Vivian doesn’t answer my question directly. Just goes back to staring at the bungalow.
“My little prince in his little castle. Why is it so small? Her parents have plenty of money. Did they cut her off too?”
