I grab my oversized sweatshirt with a sigh and throw it on over my sports bra and leggings as I walk out the bedroom door.
The smell of bacon sizzling hits my nose before I even step foot in the kitchen, causing my stomach to growl on instinct. As I round the corner, I find my mom and sister working as a team to prepare breakfast, so fucking weird. Mom’s at the stove cooking eggs, and Breanne is pouring glasses of orange juice at the island. Like we're some kind of wholesome family, she’s probably putting poison in mine.
We started drifting apart after I graduated high school.
“Good morning…” I smile politely at my sister.Bitch.I love her, but she’s a backstabbing bitch.
My mom turns around at the same time as I speak.
I eye her curiously. “Hey, good morning. What’s the special occasion?” I slowly make my way towards the island, stopping across from Breanne with my arms folded.
I get a strange feeling in my stomach.
Breanne glances my way as she pours the last bit of juice, and then her eyes quickly bounce over to Mom’s.What the hell is going on?
“Oh, honey,” Mom says, turning back to the pan, “just let me finish up the eggs… then we will sit down and talk.”
“Okay, can I help with anything?”
“Oh, no, honey, you are good. Breanne has already taken care of everything else.” I slide onto one of the stools, side-eying them both, wondering what the hell they are up to.
The tension in the air surrounding us is so thick, and my anxiety starts creeping in.
Once we all sit down, Mom dishes the eggs from the frying pan to our plates, smiling like this whole morning isn’t weird as hell.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say politely. “You always make the best scrambled eggs… maybe one day I will be able to make them like you.” I giggle, knowing I’m a horrible cook.
Somehow, I even manage to mess up scrambled eggs. They are either tough or borderline burnt. I still remember one Mother’s Day when Breanne and I decided to surprise Mom with breakfast in bed. I was in charge of making the eggs, and of course, I messed them up.
Mom smiled while eating them, just to please me and make me feel proud. She later admitted to me that she would like to teach me. She tried, but even to this day, I still cook them too long.
She waves me off with a warm smile, “You do just fine. Just keep practicing, honey. You will get it one day… You will probably want to cook your future husband breakfast someday.” She teases, eyeing me sweetly.
“Ha… he might just have to cook his own breakfast,” I reply with a light laugh, tossing a slice of bacon onto my plate.
With a smug chuckle, Breanne jumps in, tilting her head as she sips her juice. “Oh, Ellie… speaking of husbands… whose house did you stay at the night of Haleigh's wedding?”
She’s patronizing me, baiting me. Always working her fucking angle and I can’t stand it.
I stare her dead in the eyes, keeping my expression neutral. “Well, considering my so-called sister was supposed to pick me up and didn’t… I don’t think that is any of your damn business.” My eyebrows arch, expecting a harsh response from her.
“Oh, cut the shit, Ellie. I think we both know whose house you stayed at that night.”
I roll my eyes at her audacity, opening my mouth to respond, but Mom cuts us both off, throwing her hands up.
“Girls,” she snaps, “can we not just have a peaceful breakfast together? You girls need to get past whatever is going on between the two of you. We have a lot to discuss, so please...” she eyes us both, with a stern look plasteredon her face, “Let’s just stop the arguing. We need to stick together.”
My forehead tenses at her words. “Mom, what the hell are you talking about?”
With a defeated sigh, her shoulders sag as she speaks, “Honey, I’m moving to California. Breanne is coming with me, and we would like for you to come as well.”
My heart stops.
There is no way in hell I am moving. When did all this happen? We have lived in this small country town our entire lives. So many memories have been made here in this house, and now I’m just supposed to uproot my life and move?
“What?” My eyebrows shoot up. “What prompted this?” I stare at my mother in disbelief. “Mom, you can’t be serious…”
I can't comprehend this information.