Page 8 of Bad Decisions

“And how’s my favorite niece doing?” I reached for Emma and tickled her sides, laughing as she let out a piercing screech.

“Is that Emma?” My smile fell as Mom’s voice rang through the diner. I glanced over my shoulder, watching as she stuffed a rag into her apron and rounded the counter. “Thought I heard you.”

She didn’t give me a second glance as she stepped beside me to take Emma from Eli. As she turned, our eyes briefly met, but there was nothing in them. No warmth a mother should have for her daughter. No love or affection.

Nothing.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” she asked Eli over her shoulder.

“I took the day off.” He rubbed the back of his neck, giving me a guilty look. I held my hands up, letting him fend for himself this time. I wasn’t about to get in the middle of it, not when Mom and I were still simmering from our fight this morning.

I gave him an unapologetic smile as I moved back to the counter. He shook his head, his lips tightening as he tried not to smile back.

“I can’t believe your boss lets you take so much time off,” Mom said.

All humor drained from his face. I knew a probing question when I heard one and turned my back to him. When she interrogated me, Meredith always just watched, and it made things a million times worse. She never stepped in. She never went against Mom.

She just stared.

I wouldn’t do that to Eli—Icouldn’tdo it.

His footsteps were quiet and unhurried as he moved toward the little booth Mom and Emma were in. The cracked red vinyl squeaked as he slid into it.

“Tim’s pretty understanding,” Eli said tightly.

I ignored their conversation as I grabbed a few mugs, a pot of coffee, a kiddy-cup of juice, and slid it all onto a tray. With a deep breath, I turned to face them. Mom’s eyes met mine, slashing through me before she dropped them back to Eli.

I stared at the back of his head as I made my way to them, carefully balancing everything on the tray. They paid me no attention as I set everything on their table, nothing more than their waitress.

Emma bounced her stuffed unicorn on the table, talking to herself. The sight of that little toy made my throat tighten. I’d had nightmares of that unicorn, of the way she’d clutched it at the funeral and every day before. The scream she’d let out when Mom tried taking it from her. The blankness in Eli’s eyes as he stared at the wall.

I turned away before they could see my tears.

I hadn’t seen Eli since the funeral, and he somehow looked more haggard now than he had right after her death. A part of me expected him to be better by now.

Even with the signs of aging, the fine lines around his eyes, the slight graying at his temples, he’d always looked younger than he was. But now, he looked older. He looked exhausted.

His black hair was mussed, like he hadn’t taken a comb to it in days, and it was longer than I could ever remember seeing it. Dark bags sat under his dark eyes, and he had over a week’s worth of stubble on his jaw.

At what point did stubble turn into a beard? Because he was definitely getting there.

He was always so put together. He and Meredith were perfect—both of them perfect with perfect jobs, the perfect marriage, and after Emma, the perfect child.

The perfect life.

Then there was me.

The disappointment of the family. The black sheep.

According to my mother, I still had my head in the clouds and I needed to be realistic. I needed to get a real job and settle down.

I didn’t want that life, though.

Not that I didn’t want to settle down. If I could find the right person, then maybe. But I was only twenty-two. There was no reason I had to stop traveling—to stop living. I had no obligations, nothing tying me down. Why wouldn’t I live life?

But sometimes I longed for the stability of a settled life with a partner, maybe a few kids.

One day, I reminded myself.

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