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And then Kirill blew into my life.
We should have so much in common—two people with complicated family histories who care for family members. And that sex… my God. Truly the best sex of my life.
But now, I know exactly what I'm missing while I'm sitting at home and crying in the dark.
I must fall asleep like that, because the next thing I know, my front door is slamming open and sunlight is streaming golden and bright through the curtains.
“Auntie Rayne!” Lily screeches. She does a cannonball into the bed. I groan as her bony little legs connect with my kneecap.
“Mom told us to be quiet,” Brady hisses at his sister at roughly the same volume she screeched at. Then he lowers his voice. “Hi, Aunt Rayne.”
I rub sleep out of my eyes. “What are you two goblins up to?”
“We want to go to the beach,” Lily says. “Do you have a bucket? We have to build a sand castle.”
“Have you asked your mom? There might be one in the garage.”
“Mom said maybe you’d take us,” Brady says.
“To the beach?”
He nods. “She said you have the day off. That you have nothing going on all day.”
“She did, did she?” I inwardly roll my eyes. I’m sure Lana said it just like that.Auntie Rayne will have nothing going on allllll day.Now, what excuse could I have to not want to take two four-year-olds to the beach?
I love them, I do. But is this how I imagined my only day off for the entire week? Not quite.
Then again, ordering takeout and wallowing in bed all day, dreading my prodigal return to work tomorrow, might not be the best option, either.
“What time is it?” I roll over and grab my phone. I groan. “It’s not even eight o’clock! Get out of here, you gremlins.”
I tickle Lily’s side and she squeals and squirms around. In her struggle, she kicks the photo album I’d been looking at last night. It flops onto the floor and Brady, ever the little gentleman, puts it back on the bed.
Lily yanks it away from him and flips to the middle of the album. She jabs her finger at a photo. “Is this you?”
I lean forward and she’s pointing to a picture of Mom. It was at Aunt Debbie and Uncle Roger’s second wedding. They got married and divorced before I was born, and then reconciled and “lived in sin” for years, by Aunt Debbie’s own admission.
A few years ago, they decided to make it official again. Mom was the Matron of Honor. She wore a silver bridesmaid’s dress and had a drink in one hand and a microphone in the other. I snapped this picture of her singing karaoke at the top of her lungs. I think it was ABBA, or maybe Celine Dion. I remember laughing until my sides hurt.
“What? No,” I snort. “That’s Grandma. She’s twice as old as I am in this picture.”
Brady leans over the picture. “That’s not Grandma. Grandma is bigger. And she has red hair.”
“You’re thinking of Grandma Corden. Your dad’s mom. This is your mom’s mom. My mom.”
The kids blink at me like I just tried to explain long division.
“Grandma Garner,” I explain. “Miriam. Midge?”
Again, the kids don’t respond to anything I’m saying. It’s like I’m speaking a foreign language.
“You all met her, right?” I ask. “I mean, I know you did when you were little… And there was the time you came to visit… But actually, no,” I shake my head. “Your mom came by herself that time.”
I sift through my brain for anytime I’ve actually seen Lily and Brady with my mom, but there’s nothing.
“Your mom must have told you about her, though,” I protest.
Lily shrugs and slaps the book closed. “This lady looks kind of like you. And like Mama.”
