Page 12 of Heartless
“I’ve known you my entire life, sis. No need to lie to me.” He dragged me into another hug, squeezing the breath out of me.
I pushed him away. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m in love. You should try it sometime. It’s not false advertising, I swear. It really changes even shitty people like us.”
I shook my head. “You’re changed, that’s for sure. How far along is Hannah?”
“Eight weeks. The doctor says everything looks good.”
“I can’t believe you, of all people, found a woman willing to bear you a child.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he nudged my shoulder, grinning. “All you need now is a house in the suburbs, a husband to nag, and a few kids to neglect, and you’ll officially be her clone.”
“I don’t plan on having any of those things, thanks. I’m happy on my own.”
“Have you told her that her favorite offspring isn’t planning to give her any grandkids to be proud of?”
“You and Clem will give her plenty.”
“It’s not the same. You’re the perfect one.”
There it was again. At some point, my siblings got convinced that Mom loved me more, that she accepted me in a way she never had accepted them. They couldn’t be more wrong.
“Mom never thought I was perfect.”
“You’re the one closest to her standards.”
Because I’m the only one who ever tried to meet them, I wanted to say but didn’t.
“I’ll congratulate Hannah,” I said, stepping away from him and heading over to his fiancée.
After chatting with Hannah and Mike, I made my way into the dining area, where someone had arranged what looked like a lavish lunch. The aroma of grilled meats and fresh vegetables filled the air, making my mouth water.
I’d been home all morning. Mom hadn’t cooked this. So I turned to Clem. “Did you make all this?”
She had a bakery, not a restaurant, but cooking was cooking, right?
“Of course not.” Clem’s response was sharper than I expected. “I need a backup just to wash my hair these days. There’s no way I could prepare a meal for seven people.”
Her tone sounded accusatory, like I should’ve known. I let it go. She had an excuse to be cranky: the almost seven-month-old drooling all over her blouse.
“She’s going to ruin your shirt,” I said, nodding toward my niece.
Clem opened her mouth to respond, but Mom entered the room with all the grace of an aristocrat and commanded us to sit and eat.
“I wanted us all together to celebrate Maddie’s return,” she began.
“Temporary return,” I clarified, but she ignored me.
“We should also congratulate her on securing Annie Foster’s wedding.” She leaned over the table, wearing an expression that could pass for pride. “I knew you’d be the one to make it big.”
Clem, Tyler, Lucas and Hannah exchanged looks. We all knew what Mom was up to. Just yesterday, she’d told me I wasn’t good enough for Annie Foster, but now she’d twisted my success into a dig at my siblings. She’d been pitting us against each other since we were kids, using me as the ideal example, as though that didn’t mean I’d been just as criticized as they were. Mom only ever praised me to show off or to make Clem and Tyler feel inadequate.
Instead of standing up for them, the way a real big sister should, I did what I always had: smiled and kept my mouth shut.
Lunch conversation revolved around Daphne - her sleep, her feeding schedule, and somehow her bowel movements. When did it become acceptable to discuss diaper contents over a meal? No one else seemed bothered, though, so I zoned out, nodding here and there like a polite guest.
Everyone passed Daphne around the table like a tiny celebrity. Strangely, no one offered her to me. Not that I wanted to hold her, but even Mike got a turn, and he was practically an outsider. And yet, he fit in better than I did. No one gave him the side-eye.
