Page 27 of All We Could Still Have

“I’m starving,” Dana announced. “Can we eat?”

Aunt Izzie turned toward the kitchen. I scooted by her, rushing into the bathroom and banging the door shut behind me. I eyed the window, wishing I could climb out. How could I go back out there and face my aunt again? How could I explain what I’d done? There was no excuse. I turned on the faucet and washed my hands, imagining how she would reprimand me.If you have to resort to lies to get what you want, you’re clearly not ready to be a mother.I turned away from my reflection in the medicine cabinet mirror, unable to stand the sight of myself. Aunt Izzie spoke the truth in her imaginary scolding. What kind of role model would I be for a child?

In the kitchen, a timer buzzed. “Dinner’s ready,” Aunt Izzie called.

There was a soft knock on the door and then Dana’s voice. “You can’t hide in there forever.”

I reached toward the toilet and pulled the chain. “I’ll be right out.”

When I returned to the kitchen, Aunt Izzie stood in front of the stove, banging a wooden spoon against a pot as if she were trying to beat it to death. Dana leaned against the counter next to her, eating bruschetta off a cookie sheet. Aunt Izzie whacked my sister’s knuckles with the spoon. I winced, sure the smack was meant for me.

Dana flinched and shook out her hand. “Ouch, that hurt.”

“Transfer those to a platter,” Aunt Izzie barked.

I sank into a chair, and Dana slid into the one next to me. Aunt Izzie placed the baking dish with the artichokes in the center of the table. The bread crumbs topping them were golden-brown perfection, making my mouth water. Aunt Izzie had done a lot of work preparing this meal for Kyle. I should have told her he wasn’t coming. “Those look delicious,” I said.

Aunt Izzie didn’t respond. She hadn’t looked at me since I came out of the bathroom. As much as I wanted to avoid a conversation about Kyle, I knew I couldn’t. “Look, Kyle and I, we’re—”

“Nicole,” Aunt Izzie interrupted, holding up a hand. “What’s going on between you and Kyle is none of my business. What I don’t understand is why you let me believe he’d be here tonight.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know I can never replace your mother, but I hope you know that if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you.” She turned toward Dana. “For both of you.”

Her reference to my mother did me in. If my mom were here, Kyle and I wouldn’t be in this mess. That I was sure of. “Thank you.” My voice cracked. I took a giant sip of wine, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. “Kyle and I will work things out.”

“Of course you will. You love each other,” Aunt Izzie said.

I heard Kyle’s angry words on the day he’d left.This whole thing has changed you into someone I don’t even recognize anymore. Someone I don’t like. I can’t have a baby with someone I can’t trust.I sliced into my artichoke as if I were trying to carve the memory from my mind.

“You know, your mother and Dominic went through some rough patches too,” Aunt Izzie said. “Talking to Father Doherty helped.”

“When did this happen?” Other than a few arguments around the time Hank moved back to town, I didn’t remember my parents fighting.

“Talking to a priest about marital problems is beyond ridiculous,” Dana said.

Aunt Izzie shot her a warning look. Kyle had argued something similar when my aunt had suggested pre-Cana after our engagement. “How is a priest going to prepare us for marriage?” he’d asked. I wondered now if we could have better worked through our fertility issues if we’d taken the course.

“Their arguments had to do with Hank,” I said.

Aunt Izzie dropped her piece of bruschetta to her plate and broke out into a coughing fit. I watched, paralyzed with fear, as her face turned red. “Can you speak?” Dana asked. She jumped up from her chair.

Aunt Izzie reached for her water. “I’m fine,” she croaked. “Chunk of tomato went down the wrong pipe.” She waited until she composed herself. “What do you remember about their arguments?”

I shrugged. I’d been ten when Hank came back. “Not much. Dad told me Hank was a hockey player, and he was sad because he hurt his knee and couldn’t play anymore. Mom was mad that Dad was talking to me about Hank. I don’t think she wanted Hank around me,” I said.

Aunt Izzie raised an eyebrow. “You’re misremembering something.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you didn’t understand something you heard.” She sighed. “Nikki, Hank isn’t the villain you’ve cast him to be.”

“Let’s not ruin dinner by getting her going on Uncle Hank,” Dana said to my aunt. “Instead, let’s talk about my big day this weekend.” She grinned. “Marie’s dropping off my puppy on Friday.”

“Are you sure you want a dog?” I asked.

“Lord help that poor animal,” Aunt Izzie said.

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