All the calm I had mere seconds ago is gone. Bitterness, mixed with memories of my childhood rushing to the surface. “Of course, you wouldn’t know.Youweren’t around—you wereneveraround.”
My mother’s eyes widen, and she leans back, scoffing, “Don’t be ridiculous-”
“Do you even know what that’s like?” I snap, slamming my hands on the table. She jumps, and Wyatt’s hand shoots out to grip my knee. I ignore it. “Couldyoueven imagine?”
“I thought we were over this.” She glances at Vivienne as if looking for answers. “Thatyouhad enough time to get over it and stop punishingme.”
Anger is bubbling now, and I’m sure it’s going to boil over. That I’ll take the wine glass from her manicured fingers and smash it over her head. “Alright,” Ana claps, standing. I blink, violent thoughts ebbing when she says, “Everyone out. I need help with the dishes.”
I wish I could thank her for the hand she just lended me. One by one, they file out. Blake, Wesley, Haden, and even Brinley, who’s now clutched in Ana’s arms. I don’t miss the annoyed look my mother shoots Ana’s way. Wyatt doesn’t move. Instead, he comes to stand by my side when I get up and move to the living room. Vivienne stays, too, standing behind our mom and nervously biting her nails. When we’re alone, just the four of us, I rip into her. Years, and years, andyearsof suppressed rage and sadness breaking free. “Howdareyou? How dare you come intomyhome and act this way?”
My mom throws a hand over her heart, scandalized. “I have not-”
“Don’t!” I shout, stopping her with a violent hand in the air. “I’m speaking.”
“You do not get to come in here, and pretend you’ve done nothing wrong. I do not know you;my daughterdoes not know you;my husbanddoes not know you. So, let me make this crystal fucking clear–” I enunciate each word with clenched teeth and wild hand gestures, “If you think you can waltz in here and criticize the people I love, you’ve seriously misjudged your place.Youare not family; you are merely a guest of Vivienne’s.” I punctuate the words with a sharp glance in my sisters’ direction. Her eyes have begun to water, but I can’t bring myself to care. Not tonight, and definitely not after this.
She opens her mouth like she might respond, but I cut her off before she can try to paint a pretty picture that doesn’t belong here. I jab a finger in her direction. “Youare the one who chose not to stay.” And then one in my direction. "I'm the one who had to work two jobs to be able to feed myself when your ex-husband jetted off to another country on a whim.” I shake my head, a shaky laugh escaping. From nerves, or fury, I don’t know. “You didn’t watch me graduate high school. You weren’t around when I went through my first heartbreak. You weren’t there when I opened my shop. You only knew I was pregnant because of Vivienne. The only way you could have known I was married? Vivienne.Youdidn’t try to call, or text, or be a part of her birth. You’re only here now because it’sconvenientfor you.”
“You can’t talk to me that way!” she finally snaps, gentle façade dropping as her voice fills with venom. She points an accusatory finger in my face, “I am your mother. Say what you want Whitney, but you are who you are because of me.”
She says it like she raised me. Like she had a hand in the life I’ve built for myself.
“Everything I am–everything I’ve had to fight to become—is in spite of you!” I scream. I scream so loudly Vivienne gasps, and Wyatt moves, stepping between my mother and me. But despite what it may look like, my anger is dwindling, and that familiar burn is too close to cutting loose. No apology in the world could make up for the time that she missed. For the scars she etched into my skin. For the trauma she made me endure.
My mother lived a double life. When she got pregnant with Vivienne, she left my dad and I. After he found out my mom had been cheating, it all went downhill from there. Vivienne and I grew up very,verydifferently. She had the mom I never did. The mom who showed up. Who attended her sport events and put her through college. Who held her when she cried. Who loved her when sheneededher most. I never had any of that. I onlyhad a broken father, which turned into a supply of money I never wanted in the first place, which turned into a lonely apartment in the middle of town. Before I found Vivienne, I hadnothing.And it’s all because of the woman we share blood with.
“You ungrateful little-”
“That’s enough,” Wyatt booms, stepping in front of me. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
I think I hear Wyatt speaking, maybe even calling my mom a few choice words, and the sound of a door slam on her way out. But it sounds and feels like I’m drowning. Maybe I’m still mad? Still envious of what Vivienne had and I didn’t. But that isn’t fair, is it? We were kids. It wasourparents who failed us. And despite that, we found each other.
The first day I visited Vivienne in the city, the first time I ever met her—it was life altering. It didn’t matter that our mom tried to keep us apart or that we didn’t share the same father. She ismylittle sister. The one person I can call my own.
But right now? Right now, I don't recognize her. She looks a little too much like our mother, and a lot less like my sister. “I-I didn’t know all of that.” Vivienne chokes out, shaking her head. “I didn’t.”
“Get out,” I whisper.
“Whitney, please-” Vivienne begs, taking a step towards me.
“Get out!” My shout is firm, and it makes her flinch. The sight of tears streaming down her face is what makes me turn around. If I watch her cry, I’ll fold. And I need a minute—justoneminute to process everything that’s just happened. Ineedto be alone. I’m horrified.Embarrassedat the scene that just unfolded.
I’ve been so busy pretending to be someone I’m not, that I didn’t even stop to think about how different mine and Wyatt’s families are. I should’ve sent my mother off, should have found a way to avoid this long-awaited feud exploding in the middle of Wyatt’s family’s Thanksgiving. Because how will they look atme, now? Will they see a shitty mom for denying her daughter a relationship with her grandmother? A bad sister for kicking Vivienne out? A woman with little patience and too many grudges? The Conways are the few people in my life that I don’t want to judge me, the ones I can’thandlejudging me.
I book it towards the guest room, not waiting to see Vivienne leave. The same guest room I haven’t slept in in weeks. Wyatt’s steps thunder after me, but I’m quicker. I can’t look at him, can’t see those eyes full of pity and sadness at everything I’ve just exposed. Can’t look and find the disappointment he has from the kind of woman I really am.
So, when I get inside and grip the door handle, I land my last blow for the night,“I’m not another problem you can fix, Wyatt. I’m not even really your wife, remember? So, stop pretending that you give a damn.” And I slam the door in his face.
Chapter Thirty-Six
WHITNEY
It took me all of ten minutes to calm down and leave the guest room. I needed Brinley. To hold her and hug her. To remind myself of what I have and who I am. And regardless of how sad or angry I feel, being a mom doesn’t stop because of it. So, when I prattle out to the main room and find Ana and her playing on the carpet, I sink to my knees beside them. Mindlessly picking up one of Brinley’s blocks, I ask Ana, “Where is everyone?”
She casts a sympathetic glance over me, “Wyatt drove Wesley, Blake, and Elain home. Didn’t want them trekking back through the snow.”
I have no idea what happened with Vivienne, and I don’t ask. I’m just glad she was gone. I’m not ready to face her, and I’m still internally battling with myself. Is it fair for me to kick her out? Butwhatwas she thinking? Why—no,howcould she put me in that kind of position? Force my daughter to be around a woman who doesn’t give two shits about her? Forcemeto be around the woman who’s done nothing but bring me endless amounts of pain?
