Page 69 of In All My Dreams

The front door bursts open behind me. Before I have a moment to muster up any real type of reaction, I see Ian running in with a giant bouquet of flowers.

He rushes up to me with a nervous smile, twirling the flowers in his small hands.

I hate that I’m the reason he’s so nervous and unsure about me these days, but it’s too hard to see him without her.

Without my sweet Irene.

Next month will be three years since I’ve seen the two of them together. Smiling, bickering, fighting over the last bar of chocolate.

I’ll never see that in double vision again.

My baby girl died because my best friend didn’t watch her own daughter close enough. I don’t have any real proof. But somehow, somewhere deep inside, I know Irene’s drowning was more than an accident.

And I know without a doubt that Caroline and Georgia were somehow involved.

That’s why I haven’t begged Gabe to quit his job and whisk us away from this house, away from these people.

I can’t find proof if I’m not here.

Which is why I brave the sight of that watery cemetery—the lake that swallowed my baby girl’s final breath.

Each day, my whole body revolts at the sight of it.

I can’t eat, can’t sleep, and smiling is still nearly impossible.

It’s been three years since Irene died, and still, the world feels too heavy to survive. The only thing that’s kept me going is Ian, and even seeing him shatters my heart over and over again.

You’re not supposed to have a twinless twin, but that’s exactly what Ian is without Irene. Half a soul, half a heart, half a person. Never to be made whole again.

“Mom?” Ian says hesitantly.

I raise an eyebrow at him and battle to plaster some semblance of a smile for him. “What is it?” I respond, sharper than I mean to. Another piece of me slips away at his wince.

He holds out the bouquet of purple flowers, our fingers brushing slightly as he hands them to me. “Daddy and I got these for you. I hope you like them,” Ian says nervously, wrapping his arms around his body.

Sometimes I wonder if he’s doing it to shield himself from my ire.

Nobody tells you how hard it is to both love—and hate—your own child’s presence. I love that he’s here, but I hate that he’s here because my instinct is to peek around him in search of his sister.

I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I don’t see Gabe walk through the door. I look at him when he clears his throat softly.

He flashes a sad smile at me. He’s always been better at hiding his grief, but I can see how much he is struggling in that sad smile of his. It’s the only smile we know how to give each other these days.

“The guy at the florist said they are called aconite,” Gabe tells me as he squeezes Ian’s shoulders, standing over him like he can protect him with his sheer size.

I look down at the oddly shaped flowers, their hue a beautiful, stunning shade of purple.

“They are beautiful,” I say, truly meaning it. “Thank you, boys.”

Ian smiles brightly at me. He has one of those smiles that spreads across your entire face, so big it nearly touches your eyes.

The same smile his sister will never flash at me again.

Tears sting my eyes as I bring the flowers to my nose to inhale their scent.

“I wouldn’t get them so close to your face,” Gabe suddenly says. I give him a confused look and pull the flowers away from my face. “The florist said aconite is poisonous if ingested. Sojust don’t go munching on them for a midnight snack,” Gabe finishes, earning a giggle from Ian.

“Can I go give one of the flowers to Georgia?” Ian asks.

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