Page 135 of Bossy Hero

I put my hand down on top of it to prevent her from knocking it onto my lap. “Samantha,” I warn, my tone firm.

“Madeline,” she mocks back at me, flattening her tone.

I raise my chin defiantly. “You’re a brat. Do you know that?”

“Actually, she’s not,” Lettie interjects. “Sammy’s more of a—” She snaps her mouth closed, causing an audible pop. Her wide eyes rapidly morph from shocked to panicked. “Never mind. Yep. She’s a brat.” The adorable darling looks from me to my daughter and wags her finger across the break room table. “Stop being a brat to your mama.”

Sammy snort-laughs, but I barely notice due to Lettie’s bizarre reaction. The poor girl’s cheeks are so scarlet they might as well be maroon. Clearly, something here’s going over my head.

When my daughter stops laughing, she glowers at me, facetiously, of course. Far be it for my daughter to take anything seriously. “I’ll stop being a brat when my mother does what she promised.”

I huff, sawing out a jagged exhale. “I said I’d do it, and I will. Can I have a bit of privacy?”

Eager to take the out, Sue scoots her chair away from the table. “She’s right. We should step out. Phone calls are horrible enough on their own. Poor Maddie doesn’t need an audience.”

Lettie smacks her lips and hums. “Hmm. Now Susie Q, I agree with you on the call thing, because... phone calls. Shudder.” She shimmies her shoulders in a visible cringe. “However, the deal was that we’d stay until her sister answers the call and Maddie responds. Ain’t that right, Sammy?”

My daughter sells me out. The traitor. “Yep. My mom has a horrible habit of promising to make the call but then chickening out as soon as I leave her alone to do it.”

I heave a showy sigh, making myself as pouty on the outside as I feel on the inside. In response, my daughter makes duck lips at the phone hidden under my palm, wordlessly telling me to get on with it.

Over dinner last night, the topic of my sister Tilly came up. Same as every other time I think of her, tears filled my eyes, and words failed me.

And today, Sammy, Lettie, and Sue conspired to get me to call Tilly in an attempt to make peace.

Again.

I’ve tried before, but it never goes well.

Several months ago, I saw her at Leo and Sue’s wedding. Talk about a shock. I had no idea they’d even invited her. Not that I would have objected.

Tilly and I shared an awkward hug and visited briefly, keeping it cordial and superficial. After all, it was such a beautiful wedding, and neither of us wanted to taint the night with talk about long-buried subjects.

When we’d run out of inconsequential topics, she left me to mingle with the other guests, including my children. An hour later, she returned to say goodbye. We agreed to speak on the phone soon.

Turns out, neither of us were good at keeping that promise.

Prior to that encounter, it had been at least fifteen years since I’d last seen or spoken to her. Maybe more. Memories of the fateful day that severed our relationship are burned into my mind. I still feel the sting of the brand. We said so many horrible things to one another. Things we can never take back.

I miss my sister so much it’s a gnawing ache under my sternum and at the back of my throat.

They say time heals all wounds, but I’m seriously beginning to doubt that. Perhaps for others. Not for me and Tilly. I’ve put this call off due to the simple fact that I’d rather not know I’ve lost her permanently. Blessed are the unaware.

As things between Tilly and I stand now, there’s still a chance. Hope.

A minuscule amount. But some is better than none, right?

If this call ends the way I suspect it will, the hope will be gone. And where will that leave me?

The silence sits heavy now, and three sets of kind eyes stare at me expectantly.

Lettie massages my back in soothing circles. “Would you like me to dial for you? Would that help?”

Sweet child.

I force my face to impersonate a smile. “No, darling. I can do it.”

Deep breath. Here I go.

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