“She weighed in at twelve pounds, one ounce at her last appointment,” I say proudly.
“Just like you at that age,” Mum says softly.
I feel my back straighten before Jackson’s hand squeezes my thigh. Olive’s a healthy weight, being fed exactly the right amount. She’s a perfectly chubby baby and as she grows up she’ll still be as perfect as she is now, no matter how much she weighs.
Thankfully, the waiter comes to take our order, giving me a minute to compose myself. I order a coffee and a chocolate cake and notice Mum’s lips thin. I brace myself for a comment, but Dad shoots her a sharp look.
Olive lets out a playful little squeak and all our attention is drawn to her.
“May I?” Dad asks, gesturing to her.
I nod my head and gently move her blanket as he swoops Olive into his arms. We spend the next few minutes staring at her in her granddad’s arms, her big blue eyes scanning the room around her before landing on the woman next to her.
“Hello, sweetheart,” Mum coos softly as Olive’s tiny lips curl into a smile.
Jackson’s arm comes around me as he tangles his hands in my hair.
I swallow roughly. “This is your Granny, Olive.”
Mum’s eyes flit to mine, her lip wobbling slightly. She scoots her chair forward, her hands reaching out as if to clutch the baby to her, but she doesn’t, instead gently brushing a sock-clad foot.
“You good, pretty girl?” Jackson murmurs in my ear.
I take a sip of my coffee and glance up at him. “I think so.”
I tilt my head and press a kiss to his lips.
Olive starts fussing, and Jackson sends me a wink.
“I feel a meltdown coming on,” he announces, rising to his feet and rounding the table to Olive. “Come on, baby girl, let’s get some fresh air.”
He effortlessly plucks Olive out of her grandfather’s arms and swoops her into his own. Olive loves being carried by her daddy. I think it’s because he’s so tall. She gets to see so much more from her vantage point, and I understand too well how it feels to be swept up in Jackson Harper’s arms.
“Want to join, Terry?” Jackson asks. Dad pats my shoulder as he follows Jackson out the door, leaving me alone with my mother for the first time in months.
It doesn’t take long for Jackson and Dad to appear through the window, wandering around the landscaped garden and pointing out the wildlife to Olive. Mum and I both turn to watch, using it as an excuse not to talk to each other.
“She’s so curious,” Mum says, and I can see her smile in the reflection of the window.
I nod my head.
“You were like that,” she says, still not looking at me. “So curious about the world.” She pauses, “And happy. You were such a happy baby. You used to giggle all the time, especially when Cleo would play with you. She used to love playingwith you, and even when you had no idea what was going on, you’d let out that adorable little laugh.”
I fiddle with my mug, tracing my finger along the rim.
“I barely remember a time we were even in the same room and I had fun,” I say, quietly. “I only remember the times I didn’t.”
Mum turns her head, resting it on a shaking hand for a minute.
“I’m so sorry, Rosalie.”
I blink, taken aback.
“I’ve come to realize that I—” She breaks off. “I haven’t done right by you. Cleo always needed so much more attention than you, and she’s so much like me that I… It’s no excuse. I have no excuse. I’m ashamed of myself. Ashamed that it took your father threatening me with a divorce for me to realize what I’d put you through. I never meant to play favorites?—”
“But you did,” I can’t stop myself from snapping, all my righteous anger that I’ve tried to let go of since the baby shower bursting to the surface. “I would tell you so many times how miserable I was, how nasty Cleo could be, and you never once believed me. Never stood up for me, never comforted me. I was all alone.”
“I know,” she whispers.
