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A man in a crisp white lab coat strolled into the room.
“I’m here to check on the patient,” he said.
Aunt Tasha nodded and herded me out of the room with a well-placed grip on my bicep. But I’d had enough of being manhandled. I shrugged her off and gave her my best impression of rabid dog eyes.
“Please, girl.” She rolled her eyes. “If anyone has a right to be pissed, it’s me. If you think your presence here will get you a cut of the family fortune, think again.”
“Tasha.”
My father walked up and got between us.
“Christian. If you want to give your spawn a share of your cut, that is fine. But we aren’t cutting another slice for her.”
“Mom wanted her here.”
I’d had enough. I angled my body forward so I could get back in the conversation.
“Do you even care about your mother? Because I do. I don’t need her money to love her.”
She ignored my words as much as she’d ignored me my whole life.
“You mean nothing to me. You’re just my brother’s little indiscretion.”
I curled my hands into fists. “You’re just jealous because apparently your Botox not only froze your face and heart, but your ovaries too.”
When her jaw went slack, I giggled. I couldn’t help it. For so many years, I’d wanted to tell her off and now I had. But even I had to admit that was mean. I would regret the statement later. Rumor had it, her husband had left after several times she’d failed to reproduce. But I was tired of being considered nothing because I was born.
“You little—”
Dad grabbed her arm as I ducked under it. They were whisper-shouting at each other as I reentered Gran’s room.
The doctor was on his way out and I stopped him.
“How is she?” I asked.
“She’s doing better. Her oxygen levels are up, but we’ll keep giving her some but with a nose tube instead of the full-face mask. I’m cautiously hopeful for a complete recovery.” He tapped my shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. We have a full house tonight.”
I didn’t know much about pneumonia. I would look it up on my phone later, so the next time a doctor came around I would be able to ask the right questions.
My destination was the chair next to Gran’s bed as I took her hand. She smiled before closing her eyes. I pulled my computer from my bag, set to write on my blog. I hadn’t exactly traveled, but I did have a fun road trip.
I found myself typing the titleCold and Stormy Road Trip with Hot Guy. The story I told was true enough, even admitting to the heat that formed between us. I may have let out that I thought it was probably one-sided. It was a blog and I didn’t think people wanted to read about my issues with self-esteem at times. That really wasn’t the purpose of my posts. I wanted to inspire people to travel and take risks.
I was typing the last line when someone said my name.
Standing not too far away was the youngest of us. “Sister,” I said, knowing it would make her cringe. I followed it up with, “What brings you to town? Shouldn’t you be at school?”
She attended a party school in Florida.
“School hasn’t started back up yet, but I’m here to surprise my boyfriend.”
Of course, she wasn’t here for Gran. I looked over at where she slept soundly.
“Don’t start,” she said, guessing where my head was. “I’m here, aren’t I, and I’m not surprised you’re sniffing around Nana.”
I wanted to be nice, but my bullshit meter was at its limit.
“And you’re here because you smell money.”
