Page 10 of The One

Sadie’s face bounced in front of me, her poof of a blonde bun pressing against my face as she looked at my phone. “Aww! It’s Rhys.”

“What?” I groaned.

“Matthew’s busy,” Sadie summarized a message, “so Rhys responded and said they’re glad we made it back, and Matthew’s going to call me on here later.”

“What the hell? Now I have to deal with that guy having my phone number?” My eyes wouldn’t roll back hard enough.

“Rhys? I love him. How do you not?”

Grinding my teeth, I let Sadie play with my phone while I stared out the window and willed mom’s cul-de-sac to appear.

Soft flakes of snow fell in the early evening sky as soon as we pulled into the neighborhood. It looked magical, everything calm and blanketed in glistening snow, but I knew it’d melt the second my heated attitude left the car.

Benji was shoveling the sidewalk when our cab parked along the curb, with mom in the doorway assessing Benji’s progress. I watched her squint through the falling snow toward us, almost toppling Benji as she rushed out the door.

“How do I tell her about Matthew and the baby?” Sadie whispered as I reached for my door handle. My shoulders slumped with her words, and I turned to see her brown eyes fill with worry. Mom was already pounding on my window, so I couldn’t tell Sadie anything, even if I wanted to.

“You don’t even call!” She was already scolding me before both of my feet were on the slushy pavement. “I’m worried sick! Where’s your sister?”

“Benji,” I called to him as he leaned the shovel against the small white fence in mom’s front yard, “help me.”

Mom gave me a quick hug and kiss on the cheek, saving her emotional energy for Sadie. I wish I had an ounce of mom’s energy to deal with Sadie, but all I could do after getting out of the cab was walk into the house, stumble up the stairs and crash on Sadie’s polka-dot bed.

Benji was at my side when I woke from him shaking me, blinded by light pouring in through the opened curtains. “You’ve been asleep for twelve hours,” he mumbled, “and mom’s freaking out because Sadie has some enormous rock on her hand that you haven’t been able to explain.”

“I told you,” I choked against my dry throat, “I quit this family. Have Amelia help.”

“I would,” he snickered, “if she were coming for Christmas dinner, but she’s with her grandparents this year and you’re stuck with me. I take it,” he paused, rubbing his face, “we’re stuck with a Sadie mess-up, too?”

“Merry Christmas,” I groaned, closing my eyes and trying to fall back asleep. “Where’s Sadie?”

Benji let go of my shoulder and leaned against the foot of the bed, looking at me. “She’s in the kitchen with mom, helping her make cookies like the three of you do every year. Why do I have a feeling this Christmas is going to suck, Mia?”

“Because your wife isn’t here?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “It’s important that Amelia’s with her grandparents. They’re older than the constitution and not doing too well. What happened to Sadie? Do I even want to know?”

My brother might have been our mom’s favorite, second to Sadie, of course, but I knew he wouldn’t tattle and I needed an ally. And a therapist. With a groan, I sat up, knowing I wasn’t getting any more rest. Pulling the comforter up to my shoulders, I rubbed my eyes and glanced at Benji.

“Do you remember that time I got pregnant by my boyfriend who slept with someone when I dumped him because I told him I was pregnant and scared, then he got scared, and then we got back together and he proposed?”

“Uh,” Benji’s face drained of color, “no.”

“Did I mention he’s famous, too?”

“Mia.”

I lowered my voice and tilted my head toward Benji. “Right,” I sighed, “because that didn’t happen to me, it happened to our sister.”

Benji stared at me, his eyes wide, his mouth gaping. I nodded, agreeing with his silent profanities and disbelief. My buzzing phone distracted me for a second, but I didn’t know exactly where my purse was and Benji looked like he was about to pass out, so I crawled across the bed to flick him in the cheek.

“Benjamin,” I quietly scolded, “stay with me here.”

“I can’t believe you just spilled it all like that,” he muttered, eyes still wide and unfazed.

“Why is this all about me?” I flicked him again. “None of this is about me. None of this is my fault. Your little baby sister is making cookies downstairs with mom, wearing a humongous monstrosity of an engagement ring given to her by some famous British dude who also knocked her up, and he has the most horrendously obnoxious brother. I guess he and I have something in common. Benji! Please blink. Or breathe.”

He rubbed where I’d flicked him twice, scowling at me before he could say anything else. “Are we not saying anything to mom yet? Did Sadie tell her?”

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