She turned and started up the hill toward the cars, giving me a very nice view of her plump ass in those shorts. Over her shoulder, she said, “The spreadsheets don’t do it for you?”
“Nah,” I chuckled. “You know I prefer redheads.”
Chapter 7Chloe
“Are you sure? This seems insane.”
Celine shifted her weight from one foot to the other, rocking from side to side while Julian clung to her. Her sweet little guy was like a barnacle. Had been since birth. At four, he was almost too big to be carried, but it seemed like, more and more, he was in his mama’s arms. Wearing his favorite Spiderman pajamas, which were faded from repeated wear, he buried his head in her neck.
I admired my sister. She had a way of making every person she encountered feel special. Like now, she was giving me her full attention while comforting her son.
And she was beautiful. The kind of natural beauty that women longed for. Cute button nose, high cheekbones, and round blue eyes. She looked exactly like my mother, right down to the lone dimple on her left cheek. Where my hair was fiery red, hers was strawberry blond.
It suited our personalities. She was the sweet, easygoing sister.
I was the more severe version: pointed chin, arched brows, and dark eyes.
We’d taken totally different paths in our lives. I’d left for the West Coast, gone to school, and built a successful career out there.
She’d stayed close by and married less than a month after earning her teaching degree. Granted, Donny Whittier was no prize. Even today, when I’d asked where he was, she’d said he was “working.” Dubious. His family owned the only privately held lumber mill left in Maine. He’d been raised with a silver spoon shoved up his pompous ass. He was probably enjoying the lunch buffet at a strip club, not that I would ever say that. When it came to her shitty, neglectful husband, I’d learned to bite my tongue years ago. I’d let my inability to keep my mouth shut drive a wedge between us before, and I wasn’t going to risk it now.
Celine was the sweet, maternal, loving version of me. With clear skin, lots of friends, and the kind of effortless style that people devoted Instagram accounts to replicating.
I spent a lot of time and money trying to look half as good as she did by just rolling out of bed. But I’d long since buried any jealousy.
And our lives had taken totally divergent paths.
I was getting closer and closer to making peace with the reality that I’d never be a mother. Most days, I could live with my choices, but sometimes, the ache became crushing. And as Celine stroked Julian’s hair, that pain grew more intense.
In my twenties, I’d been fueled by the unhealthy combination of ambition and rage. I’d pushed myself, worked hard, and played even harder. Traveling and collecting experiences were what I lived for.
Then I hit my thirties, and I started to feel this tug. At first, it was almost imperceptible. Just a whisper of a feeling when I’d see a woman playing with her kids in a park, or two parents smiling at one another while wrangling their kids at a restaurant.
It took years before I even let myself admit that I wanted that. I wanted to be a mother. To love unconditionally and completely.
I’d done a lot of cool things. I’d lived and traveled, and I was damn lucky.
But now, looking ahead to the next decade, I was feeling that biological pull. But this time, it was so much more acute. And it was almost every day.
Karl and JJ had been pushing me to get a dog. Karl was far too good at reading me. He’d recognized the longing even before I did, even if he was a twentysomething man who didn’t exactly understand it.
I’d come close. For years, I’d been talking about a dog. Not that a dog was a fitting substitute for a child, but it was the thing I’d promised myself long ago. I swore I’d find myself a four-legged companion once I was settled.
But I’d never really been settled, had I?
Even here. Yeah, I’d bought the house, but I had no intention of sticking around. Not only because Maine winters were heinous, but because the job would take me somewhere new. My partners were getting older, and they were no longer interested in long-haul travel, especially for months at a time.
I had at least another decade of travel and nonstop hustle in front of me. So for now, spoiling my nieces and nephew would have to be enough.
And I’d enjoy every second of this summer. I’d give Celine the kind of support she deserved and soak up the moments with these incredible kids.
I stepped closer and put my arm around my sister, and she kissed my cheek.
There was a saying about how as a person aged, they’d get the face they deserved. Celine was so kind and so good and so loving that she deserved to be this luminous forever.
For as much as I believed that, the thought of her aging brought with it questions about my mother. What would she have looked like now, if she’d been allowed to grow old, if she hadn’t left us in her forties? I closed my eyes and saw her like I normally did, and my heart ached.
All the conventional wisdom about grief was bullshit. It never went away. It never lessened. Instead, the person grieving just got better at dragging it around with them every day.
I took a breath and focused on the grass, the trees, and the sky. It was a technique my therapist had taught me when the grief vortex was too intense to ignore. I watched Ellie and Maggie run in the yard, playing some imaginative game that involved dragons. It was hard to believe that Ellie was already nine and almost as tall as I was. I loved these kids. Though I’d long ago given up the possibility of having any of my own, I’d vowed to take care of them forever.
Each already had a healthy college fund, but what was more important was spending time with them. I vowed then and there to be around more. And what better time to start than this summer?
I turned back to Celine, who was looking at me expectantly.
“Where did you just go?” she asked.
I ignored the question, unwilling to admit how, sometimes, I got pulled under and struggled to come back.
“Everything is going fine,” I assured her. “Granted, I’ve got the FBI coming tomorrow, but I’m handling it.”
In theory, I should be at the office, meeting with the lawyers, who had arrived yesterday and were prepping for our meeting with the feds. But I’d been too unsettled. So instead, I’d driven the thirty minutes to my sister’s house, desperate to reset myself.
Hugging the kids and spoiling them with treats I’d picked up at the adorable new bakery in town had made me smile, just like I knew it would. Had I also shoved a few of the molasses cookies straight into my mouth while driving? Why yes, I had.
She pushed her long hair off her neck, the Maine humidity was in full force today.
