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“What is it? And why can’t Ben do it?”
“Ben is busy. I have a job interview today at noon, and Mom and Dad are headed up to Napa, so I need you to watch the kids.”
“So? They’ve taken Sofia and Thatcher with them to Aunt Mary’s a bunch of times.”
“Normally, we would, but we’re off to a lunch and wine tasting tour of a new winery. A no kids’ lunch and wine tasting.” My dad shoves his hands into his pockets.
“We wouldn’t ask, but…” My mom beams as my stomach churns. Oh, it’s going to get better.
“Can you also take Sofia and Thatcher to the homecoming carnival? They’re supposed to have all kinds of booths, animal petting, and rides.” Emilia’s eyes beg me for help. “Ben is working the dunk tank with some of the other players.”
“The carnival!” Sofia pumps her fist into the air.
My sister tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “They’ve been dying to go for weeks, but I can’t pass up this job opportunity. It’s better hours and more money.”
Emilia and my parents stare at me expectantly, but it’s not them that does me in. It’s those squished-up adorable faces of two kiddos who want to party and have a good time that crack my resolve.
“How long?” I ask with a growling tone. I don’t mind hanging out with them, and it’s supposed to be a perfect afternoon, but I’m not about to let any of them think they aren’t messing up my day. At some point, I’m going to need a favor of my own, and I’m dragging this one out for payment.
“Four hours tops.”
“Fine. I’ll take them.”
The kids scream at the top of their lungs and bounce in their seats. If they’re already this hyped up, I can’t wait to see them when I fill them full of sugar and return them back to my parent’s house.
“Thank you so much.” Emilia wraps her arms around me in a bear hug, and I frown. When did she get so thin? Her ribs are practically sticking out.
“You need to eat something.”
“I can’t.” She pats my back. “I’m too nervous. I’ve got to get this job so I can afford my own place.”
“Now, dear, you don’t have to move out,” my mom says. “We love having you around, don’t we, honey?” She pins my dad with a glare as if she’s afraid he’s going to disagree.
“We love having the kids around.” He’s not stupid.
“I know.” She steps back and gnaws on her bottom lip. “But I’ve been a burden long enough. Thatcher is two. That’s over two years that I’ve taken over one of the two of your houses. First, I ruined Cole’s chances at getting a girlfriend by saddling him with a melancholy hormonal sister and two crying kids. And when I started feeling guilty about that….” She shakes her head. “I moved next door and interrupted your empty nest. It’s embarrassing.”
“Emilia, it’s not your fault.” I lay my arm around her shoulder but keep the rest of it to myself. As much as I’d love to trash-talk her ex, I won’t. Not when there’s a chance the kids would understand. If he gets his head out of his ass and steps up to be a better father, I don’t want them to have a tainted opinion of him.
Not for him. For them. They deserve someone besides me stepping up to the plate and being their pseudo-father figure.
“Thanks,” she sighs and grabs a plate, filling it with food as my parents beg off and leave for their day trip, and the kids run off to the playroom. When Emilia moved out, I convinced her to leave all her old stuff here for when the kids come over. “How was the game last night?”
“It was fine.” She hands me the plate while continuing to ignore her own need for food. “Thanks, Sis. It looks delicious, but I wish you’d eat some also.”
“I’ll save a plate for later.” She leans against the cabinet as I retreat to the table. “And it’s the least I could do for causing everyone to give up their lives for me.”
“We didn’t give up our lives for you.” I stab a section of scrambled eggs and stuff it in my mouth. God, that’s good.
“I don’t see you married or even dating.”
“I didn’t realize that was a requirement for living.” I drop the fork on the table. “I wish you’d stop blaming yourself for everything. That’s the problem with overachievers. When your life isn’t perfect, you beat yourself up over it. And if I’m not living, how exactly are you surviving?”
“Stop.” Her eyes flash with anger.
“See. You don’t like it when the shoe is on the other foot, do you?”
“Bite me,” she growls under her breath as I take a celebratory bite of breakfast. “Did you see her?”
