Page 19 of Trip Me Up

“You won’t.” He was well known for his outrageous behavior when he was stressed. “And if you’re tempted, call me. Remember, I’m the sensible one.” Though, considering what had happened with Stephen, and now this fake book tour, was that really true?

His long arms came around me, and I inhaled the scent of leather as he hugged the breath out of me. “Thanks, Samwise.”

He took my damp coat and shoved it onto a hanger and into the closet off the foyer. “You ready for this?”

I gave him a wry smile. Years ago, we’d been partners, Mother’s two black sheep who always did the wrong thing. Jackson had taken the brunt of her attention, one-upping my screw-ups with another more outrageous one. But now he was golden, too. Not only had he founded an up-and-coming software company, but he’d been the first to marry and produce Mother’s first grandchild-to-be. I was the only Jones disappointment now.

“I’ll never be ready for brunch with the family,” I said. “But I guess it’s too late to back out now.”

“I’ll provide as much cover as I can.”

“Don’t dump coffee on the floor this time, okay?”

“You have to admit it was effective.”

“I was wearing those silly ballet flats she bought me, and it burned my feet.”

“But she stopped yelling at you about donating your trust fund.”

“Temporarily.” She’d never let that go. “And was it worth having to buy her a new rug?”

“Samwise.” He pulled me to a stop right before we rounded the corner to the dining room. “Whatever I do for you is worth it.”

I punched him in the shoulder the way he’d taught me, knuckles flat, my thumb outside my fist.

“Ow!” He rubbed his shoulder. “What was that for?”

“For trying to make me have”—I wrinkled my nose—“feelings.”

He picked up my hand and squeezed it once. “It’s okay to have feelings. You don’t have to pretend them away.”

It was a lie. This house was proof. The emotions I’d squashed—sadness about Dad, humiliation and betrayal over what Stephen had done, loneliness—practically oozed from the walls with their ghostly fingers, beckoning me back in.

No more. Those emotions had never done me any good, and I was just as done with them as I was with this house. With this family. Most of it, anyway.

I squeezed Jackson’s hand and then dropped it. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone else was already gathered in the dining room when we entered. “Jackson, where did you—Samantha.” Mother’s face did something strange when she saw me. Maybe she’d gotten Botox again.

“Mother.” I walked to the head of the table and kissed her soft, smooth cheek. It held a slight golden tone from their Christmas trip to Hawaii. She smelled like freshly ironed cotton and lavender, just like always.

Charles didn’t wait for me to make it to the other end of the table. By the time I stepped away from Mother, he was there, his palm a warm weight between my shoulder blades. He smiled, his dark skin settling into its familiar lines. When I’d come two months ago at Thanksgiving, I’d noticed a few more gray hairs among his black curls. It made him look distinguished, like a stock photo for a successful executive. Which was exactly what he was. “Good to see you, Samantha.”

“Hey, Charles. How’s the, uh, golf game?” Charles had been a friendly presence in my life since he’d married Mother a year after we’d lost Dad. I’d tried to hate him—I’d been twelve—but no one could hate Charles. He was too nice. Still, we never talked about anything more substantial than golf or his business.

“I haven’t played since we got back from Lanai. I wish you’d gone with us.”

“It would’ve done you good, Samantha. You’re looking so…peaky.” Mother reached a hand toward my cheek, but I pulled away and headed toward my chair at the other end of the table.

“Hey, Nat,” I said as I passed her chair.

“Sam.” She kept her hands in her lap, exactly where they should be, and her slim shoulders pressed into the back of her chair like she had a steel rod for a spine. Her silky blond hair cascaded over one shoulder of her rose-pink sheath dress. Mother would never dream of calling her peaky.

“Sam!” Andrew stood and held out a fist for me to bump. After I touched my knuckles to his, he pulled out my chair and helped me scoot the heavy thing back under the table.

I waved at Noah, who sat between Alicia and Jackson on the other side of the table. He was twelve, so he tried out one of those chin-raises at me and then glanced back into his lap. He must’ve had a phone or a gaming device down there. I wished I could’ve gotten away with that.

Surprising everyone, Mother had welcomed Alicia’s nephew into the family like a flesh-and-blood grandchild. And she was so ecstatic about the baby Alicia carried that Alicia had moved to the seat of honor on Mother’s right. Jackson took his place across from me at Charles’s end of the table.

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