“And everybody only remembers us tearing each other apart with our words.”
“And that one vase Mom threw at you the Christmas right before she left.”
That has Dad smiling, as if the memory is a good one. But the smile falls away before it can fill his eyes. “Your mom didn’t leave. Not the way you think. Our split was mutual.”
My heart aches. I always thought she walked out on Dad, but if they were in agreement about separating and divorcing, that changes things a bit. It wasn’t a matter of love breaking apart, of one person getting hurt while the other walks away.
Dad reaches for my hand. “Sweetheart, don’t model your view of love and commitment on me and your mother. Maybe we married too young, maybe we didn’t prioritize each other. I like to think we gave you and Sadie a happy childhood, and we love you both with all our hearts. But if you found somebody who completes you, who lifts you up and affirms you to the world, it’s worth taking a chance at happiness.”
“And what if I’ve screwed things up too much to go back?” I ask, my voice small.
“I guess that’s part of taking a chance.” He squeezes my fingers. “Has he called you since you left New York?”
“About twenty-five times by now.”
“I think that, in itself, is testimony to how he feels about you.” He stands, retrieving my half-empty glass. “How long are you sticking around?”
I get up as well and follow him to the kitchen. “I was thinking I’d head back to Atlanta next Sunday.”
Dad drinks the rest of my tea and sets the glass in the sink. “Your sister’s coming this weekend with the baby. They’re flying in on Saturday morning.”
“Oh.” My body goes cold, the icy sense of inferiority rising from my toes to clamp around my heart. “Then I guess I’ll head out before they get here.”
He frowns at me. “Why?
How can I ever explain to Dad so he’ll understand? Sadie is the epitome of a fairytale ending come true. How can I possibly stand seeing her picture perfect life in person when my life is so . . .
Imperfect.
Dad must see my thoughts in my eyes, even if I don’t come out and voice them. “I think you should stay the weekend and see the baby, at least. I’d like you to stay till next Sunday like you planned, but that’s your call.” He turns and heads toward the back door, but pauses with his hand on the doorknob. “I also think you should call that Domenic guy back, but what do I know?”
Chapter 17
Matters of the Heart
Despite the heat of the early July afternoon, a chill keeps sliding through me as Thursday’s conversation with Dad replays over and over in my mind. I wander from room to room, chasing warm memories and patches of summer sunlight. Nothing helps. Sadie will be here soon with her perfect little boy, ready to rub her perfect little life in my face. I only hope she’ll still be self-absorbed enough not to notice my puffy eyes and red-tipped nose, the telltale signs I was up half the night crying over Domenic.
I find my way to the air-conditioned sunroom, curl up on the cushioned glider bench, and wrap one of the wool afghans around my shoulders. The echo of car doors opening and closing out front filters through the windows, followed by shouts of greeting from Dad.
Here we go.
The front door opens, and Sadie’s chatter fills the house, just like it always did when we were kids. Little piercing cries override her comments about bringing her infant to her childhood home. Her tone changes slightly, lowers to a soothing singsong, and the baby’s sounds of discontent melt away into quiet coos.
Shrugging a little farther into my crocheted cocoon, I fight the ache swelling in my chest. The pieces of my professional life might finally be settling into place, but my personal life is in shambles. The last thing I want to do is play nice with Sadie and pretend I’m not jealous of her stupid luck in love.
I should have gone back to Atlanta yesterday, like I’d planned.
After a few minutes, the baby quiets, and Dad’s footsteps retreat upstairs with the thunks of two suitcases hitting the edges of the treads. Did Sadie follow him? I hold my breath, listening, but I don’t hear anything else. With a sigh, I tip my head back and close my eyes, then give a soft push against the floor with one toe to set the glider moving again.
“Can I come in?”
At Sadie’s soft question, I jerk upright. She stands in the doorway with the baby nestled against her chest, his tiny head tucked into the hollow under her chin. My perpetually slender sister’s cheeks are slightly rounded from baby weight, though she otherwise looks to have lost most of the extra pounds. Her hair, longer than it was when I last saw her at her wedding, is pulled into a messy topknot, and she wears almost no makeup. Despite that and the smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes, she glows with maternal joy.
She’s always been beautiful. Always vibrant.
Now, somehow, she looks complete.
The empty space in my chest threatens to implode.
Rubbing the end of my nose against the soft yarn of my afghan, I scoot to the edge of the glider and prepare to get up. “If you want. I was just going—”
Sadie takes several hurried steps into the room. “No, stay. Don’t get up. I thought . . .” The baby starts fussing again, and she trails off with a grimace. “He’s hungry. Traffic getting out of the airport was insane. I think he screamed his face off for at least half the drive.”
The glider bench is the only piece of furniture in the room that moves. I remember Mom mentioning, or maybe I saw it on Facebook at one point, that Sadie’s nursing. I slide as far as I can to one side and pat the seat cushion beside me. “Sit down.”
“You don’t mind?” she asks after a pause.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “I’ve had plenty of moms nurse their kiddos in my studio during newborn shoots.”
She chews on her lower lip for a second, and her eyes start to glisten.
Shit. I didn’t mean to launch a barb at her about newborn photography and insinuate I’m pissed about her not asking me to do one for her, even if I was sort of pissed about it. Add in new-mom hormones, and it’s no wonder she teared up.
“If you’d rather I—”
“Sadie, put your ass in the seat and feed your child.”
A grin flickers at the corners of her mouth. She settles down next to me, pulling a thin throw pillow onto her lap for support. Within seconds, the baby is contentedly chowing down, and Sadie relaxes back in the glider. I lean forward to reach a nearby footstool, dragging it over so she can put her feet up and set the pace of our rocking.
I glance at her left hand. Sudden concern flares at the sight of her bare fingers. “Not wearing your rings anymore?” I keep my tone conversational as best I can.
“Had to stop wearing them when I was six months along with Nicky. Sometimes I can get my wedding band on, but my fingers are still kind of swollen.” She flexes her hand, then caresses the baby’s downy head.
“You look great,” I comment, surprised by the relief that replaces my worry.
She gives a shrug. “Right now everyone’s more concerned about how I feel, including me. I’m still not at a hundred percent. I had to have a C-section, you know.”
Guilt stabs at me. In the middle of all my problems and pettiness toward my sister, I never even took the time to find out how her delivery went. I just assumed everything was perfect, like always. “So I guess you won’t be wearing a bikini any time soon.”
“Not until the stretch marks fade, at least.” Sadie chuckles a little.
I watch her for a minute or two, impressed by how absorbed she is in her little guy. Color me floored. I never imagined my self-centered, beauty queen baby sister would ever reach a point in her life where somebody else ranked higher than herself. “You seem happy. Tired, but happy.”
&
nbsp; “I am,” she replies with a radiant smile, though her gaze stays locked on the baby. “Nelson works a lot during the week, but that frees him up for plenty of family time on the weekend. He only had one big business trip this spring that he couldn’t cancel, and his mom was a huge help while he was gone. His daughters are great big sisters, too.”
“I assume you also have a nanny.”
“Just part time during the week. Nelson wanted me to bring her along on this trip, but I thought I could handle Nicky myself.” She sighs. “I’m kinda wishing now I’d taken Nelson up on the offer. That drive here from Atlanta just about killed me.”
I can’t hold back a laugh. The baby stirs in Sadie’s arms, and I clamp my hand over my mouth. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine, he’s asleep anyway. Nursing almost always conks him out.” She readjusts her top and slides the pillow off her lap. Then she turns to me, an expectant smile on her face. “Wanna hold him?”
Panic sets alarms blaring in my head. I’ve done my share of newborn shoots and managed to soothe a scared toddler or two, but I’ve never actually held a baby for an extended period of time. “Are you sure? I might drop him or something.”
“You can’t drop him if you’re sitting down.” She stands and deftly passes the sleeping infant to me before I can initiate evasive maneuvers. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Was I panicked before? This is panic. “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom,” she says, amusement at my obvious discomfort. “You’ll be fine.”
“What if he cries?”
She waves her hand at the glider and starts toward the doorway. “Just rock and hum.”
“You know I can’t sing worth a damn.”
A peal of laughter follows Sadie out of the room.
Left alone with my infant nephew, I do my best to settle back in the glider and pretend like I do this all the time. As a preemptive measure, I start rocking while studying the baby for signs of distress. When he emits nothing but a few random snorts, my attention shifts to the view of the backyard from the window.
For the first time in a long time, I’ve had a conversation with Sadie that didn’t end with one or both of us either screaming or at least throwing the meanest, most sarcastic and judgmental comments possible at each other. The tension is definitely still there; I’d be an idiot to think any different. But there’s a change, one I can almost feel, from the last time we were in a room together. Maybe it’s because we’ve both just gone through some life-changing events that have opened our eyes to what’s really important.
Sadie, supposedly, found true love, and I’m sitting here with the physical proof of it in my arms.
And me? If I was brave enough to really believe in true love, I suppose that’s what I feel for Domenic Varezzi. The only difference is that I’m never going to have evidence of it that I can hold in my hands.
Tears burn again, and I look down at the baby. He’s awake, staring up at me with his huge blue eyes. So like Sadie’s. So like mine.
“Ah-gah,” he says.
“Hey, Nicky,” I say back. “So I guess I’m your Aunt Kate.”
He blows milky spit bubbles in reply, then yawns.
Moving with the speed of a two-hundred-year-old tortoise, I gently lift Nicky and reposition him to lay against my chest with his head on my shoulder, the way Sadie had him when she came in. He squirms while I adjust the afghan to better cover my lap and his legs, and then I gently pat and rub his back.
“I’m sorry we haven’t met before,” I continue in a near whisper. “I guess that’s mostly my fault. Your mommy and I have had trouble getting along lately, and it was stupid of me not to come see you when you were born. I didn’t understand why your mommy made the choices she did, and I was mad at her for not including me in some of the special things in her life last year.”
My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat. While the choking ache subsides, I close my eyes and rest my cheek on top of the baby’s warm head. “You see, we got along great as kids, then when we got older, it was harder and harder to share our thoughts and dreams. And we drifted farther and farther apart. I’m afraid we might be too far apart now to ever go back to where we were. And it really sucks, because I’m just now realizing how much I’ve missed out on.”
Nicky makes a contented little sound, and his whole body relaxes against me. I let my hand rest flat against his back, continuing to rock and fighting a fresh rise of tears. All my teenage and adult life, I let my resentment of Sadie overshadow everything that could have been good between us. There were plenty of times she needed me to be a big sister, the kind who would step up and step in, to be on her side. The only time in probably fifteen years I even made an attempt to guide her was when I crashed her wedding in St. Croix, when I spent three days moping around and throwing accusations at her, our mother, and Sadie’s best friend.
All that got me was crossed off the guest list at baby Nicky’s christening and yet another check on the Reasons to Resent Sadie list. That, along with a healthy dose of hating my own lonely life and deciding happy endings only exist in books and movies.
And my stubborn, touch-me-not, no-such-thing-as-love mindset just made me run away from the one man on this whole planet who actually gets me. Who doesn’t give a crap about my snarky attitude, who applauds my drive for personal success.
The one man who’s ever pulled me close and kissed me like the world’s going to end tomorrow, and I’m the only way he’ll survive the next fall of Rome.
Movement in the doorway catches my attention, and I shift my gaze to meet Sadie’s. I might have royally screwed up with Domenic, but maybe I can find a way to make amends with my sister.
“I’m sorry. For everything. All the shitty stuff I said to you last year, the way I acted at your wedding. For not even calling you when Nicky was born.”
The admission comes unbidden as my tears hover, blurring the sight of Sadie rushing forward. She curls next to me on the glider bench, draping one arm across my shoulders and resting her other hand over mine against Nicky’s back. Her breath comes in little hitches as she lets her cheek drop onto my shoulder.
Now that the floodgates are open, I can’t stop my words. “We used to be good, you and me. But somewhere along the line we messed up. Maybe I was the one who messed up. Instead of cheering you on during beauty pageants or cheerleading competitions, I just chalked each of your victories up as another mark against me. I was somehow lacking, too imperfect to matter on anyone’s radar.”
“Kate—” Sadie interjects.
“No, let me get this out while I can.” I heave a breath and launch ahead. “But you were always—always—my baby sister. I lost sight of that, and there were lots of times you needed me to be your big sister. And the handful of times I tried to act like one, I screwed up. Like at your wedding when I went off on your friend Carmella. I had no good reason to accuse her of luring Ryan to St. Croix to crash your wedding. But I was jealous of how close you two were. She was more your sister than me at that point. And I was pissed at Ryan, too, for his part in everything. And that’s why I said all those awful things to you at the family reunion. I knew something was up with you two, that your engagement wasn’t going to work out. I meant to talk sensibly to you. To talk sense into you. But it all came out wrong.”
At last, my voice cracks, and I tilt my head until my tear-soaked cheek comes to rest against the top of Sadie’s head. “I was wrong about so much, Sadie. You have your happy ending and then some. And instead of enjoying it with you, being happy for you, I just got more and more jealous until I couldn’t see anything besides how much of a failure I was in comparison.”
A quiet moment passes. We just rock back and forth while I cry, Sadie intermittently stroking my hair and humming in a monotone the way she would to soothe the baby.
�
�I’m sorry, too,” she finally says. “I should’ve done things differently. I was hurt by what you said at the reunion, so much so I was ready to sever ties forever. I acted like a spoiled brat about inviting you to my wedding. I’ve never shown any interest in supporting your career. Photography business aside, I should have asked you to shoot my wedding at the very least, and to do Nicky’s newborn session. I never even realized how good you are until Dad emailed me the link to your exhibition.”
I shift back to look at her. “You checked out the exhibition?”
She nods. “If I’d known sooner, I’d have talked Nelson into going to New York to check everything out. I also looked at your online portfolio.”
“You did?”
“You’re pretty amazing at what you do.” Her smile fades, and she brushes her fingertips over my cheeks to wipe away my tears. “This isn’t just about you and me and the crap we’ve slung at each other lately.”
Stiffening, I pass the sleeping baby back to her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She throws a sidelong glance my way, then settles back to snuggle the baby. “If there’s one thing I know about, it’s love. And you, big sis, are neck deep in it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” I toss the afghan aside and scramble to my feet. But before I can make it halfway across the room, fresh tears course down my cheeks. I spin to face Sadie, my cheeks hot with embarrassment. “I’m supposed to be stronger than this.”
“Says who?” Sadie asks quietly.
“Says me!” I fire back, hugging my arms around myself. “I’ve had to work for everything I have, and my independence and self-sufficiency are their own rewards. I didn’t cry when Mom and Dad got divorced, or when you almost left me off your guest list last year. But look at me.” It takes all my effort to keep my volume down. “I’m a weepy mess over a guy, Sadie. And that’s not me, it never has been. When life throws me lemons, I throw them back. I don’t sit down and whine about not having a juicer to make the damn lemonade!”
When in Rome (Sweet Somethings Book 2) Page 16