Page 19 of Where We Belong

“Drop it,” I murmur, my fingers dancing across the keyboard.

“You know who’s paying for this?” she asks, her voice carrying a little anger.

I sigh, biting my tongue. I want to tell her that she’s being fucking dramatic. “No one is paying for anything.”

“Bernadette,” she says pointedly.

I sigh inwardly, fingers pausing over the keys. “What do you mean she’s paying for this? She’s three. I doubt she’ll remember my name.”

“Bernie keeps asking for you. Her face falls when we tell her Cory isn’t around. She’s hoping that you’ll be there tomorrow.” Fern looks at me sadly. “But I don’t think tomorrow is ever going to happen, is it?”

“It’s for the best,” I say hollowly, dropping my gaze. It breaks my heart knowing that Bernie misses me, and I can’t be there for her. I adore that little girl. From the first moment I held her she stole my heart.

One soul lays itself bare, surrendering every beat of its vulnerable heart, every hushed whisper of private dreams. The other remains untouched, standing at the threshold but never crossing over, cradling a heart not theirs to keep. The imbalance is palpable, a quiet torment reverberating through the chambers of the longing heart, reminding the bearer of a love that could have bloomed but never took root. But that person who surrendered everything doesn’t care. They believe they can love for two. And there’s the biggest lie of them all: you can’t make anyone love you.

Everyone thinks I’m just not willing to help Ben because I’m busy. They don’t know I was heartbroken because I lost the two people I never had. Some nights it still hurts. Being in love with Benedict Farrow was a dangerous game, waiting for him a losing bet. I loved him silently and even when I tried to be careful, my heart was sliced into pieces.

Fern crosses her arms and gives me that stern maternal glare that says either you talk or face the consequences. “What exactly is for the best?”

“You’re a mother, Fern. You, more than anyone, are aware that children need stability. I can’t help them all the time. I have businesses to run and a life to live,” I say, hoping this does the trick because I hate when she’s on my case.

Just let it go, Ferny.

“I don’t buy that. What really happened between you and Benedict?” she presses.

Why the fuck is she not backing down?

I let out a loud breath, my shoulders slumping in defeat. “Ben didn’t like that Bernie and I were getting close. I realized it was time I distance myself so—”

“No. Something else happened,” she cuts me off sharply, clearly not believing my story. My sister’s bullshit detector is working overtime.

“She called me ‘Mama,’” I say quietly, my voice quivering as I remember that morning. “Right as I was coming into the house. She saw me and said, ‘Mama.’ Bernie gave me the biggest smile in the world and ran to greet me. He stopped her and made sure to tell her I was just Cory. Just Aunt Cory.”

I swallow hard. This time I don’t shed any tears.

“So, we’re also protecting your heart, aren’t we?” Fern asks gently.

“As I mentioned before, it’s for the best.”

“Somebody has to shake some sense into that man and make him realize what’s in front of him,” she says exasperatedly.

I stare at her in confusion, her words not making sense. “Who?”

“Ben,” she states pointedly. “He’s so hung up on his fucking friendship with Heath that—” she stops herself abruptly.

I study my sister, sensing she’s hiding something. “What were you going to say?”

She waves her hand dismissively. “You two have to fix your issues.”

“There are no issues,” I say flatly, my jaw clenched. “I’m just his best friend’s little sister.”

I don’t add that I was Ben’s afterthought. I remained loyal by his side for years, hoping he’d fall in love with me, gratefully receiving those meager crumbs of attention he tossed my way. I stayed even when he repeatedly broke my heart.

The incident with Bernie was the final straw, the moment I realized enough was enough. “Let this go, okay.”

Fern nods reluctantly. “How are things with Bodhi?”

I exhale in relief, my body relaxing. This is a conversation I can have with anyone, even her. “It’s good. Paris was fun. Yeah, things are definitely better.”

---