Shameless

At least I’m laughing when I get off the phone. And really, it’s nice to know she’s in my corner.

I hang up and get Izzy bundled up. Because we have an appointment. And it’s something that will probably change our lives forever.



Izzy has been quiet the entire drive. Which freaks me out a little. I even stop to check on her. To make sure she didn’t sneak a Cheerio and accidentally choke on it. Finally, I stop at Target and buy three baby mirrors so I can see her in my rear view mirror from every angle.

Not gonna lie. This whole thing makes me a little nauseous. The longer I drive, the more time I have to think about my plan. And all of the ways it could go wrong.

When I get out of the truck and poke my head in the back of the cab, Izzy grins. I smile back as I fix her little barrette, which is hanging off her forehead.

“Can’t have you going in there looking like your uncle doesn’t know how to dress you.” I pull up both of her socks and fix her pants. “Iz, I know this has been a rough week, but do you think you could be extra good for me today?”

She nods solemnly. It probably helps that she has no clue what the hell I’m talking about.

Reaching down to her feet, I grab my duffle bag and make sure I brought everything. I mean, if I forgot something, I’m shit out of luck at this point, but looking through it calms my mind.

Before I get the baby out of her car seat, I pat my coat pocket to make sure I brought the most important item of all. And then it’s time.





58





Katherine





Voices ebb and flow down the hall. The cheer in everyone’s muffled voices makes me a little stabby.

I suspect my parents know I’m in a foul mood because they’ve left me alone. Either that or they’ve had their hands full with every relative in South Texas who has undoubtedly decided to visit. The front lawn is probably overflowing with cars.

But that’s a nice distraction from the conversations I’ve been having with my parents. No wonder they want me to stay here “to get my bearings.”

At least they seem to understand what I’m saying about my old job and why I don’t want to go back to politics.

My parents even look moderately sympathetic when I talk about Brady.

I’m exhausted from last night. My mom made me whip up an ungodly number of tamales for the family visiting tonight. I finally doze off but a knock on my bedroom door jars me awake. I’m guessing my pity party is coming to an end because Tori rips off my comforter and jumps on my bed.

“What the hell?” I glare.

“You can’t lie in bed all day, loser. It’s New Year’s Eve. Get the fuck up. We’re going to par-tay like we’re hoochies in a Prince video.”

I smile pleasantly until she smiles back, and then I yank the comforter out of her grip and burrow deeper. “How do you even know who Prince is?”

“Mom’s been watching old episodes of I Love The 80s on YouTube.” She sits on me like the slug that she is.

“Tor, we need to establish boundaries,” I grunt under her weight.

She snorts. “So does that mean you won’t give me Brady’s number? You know, if I wanted to call him and show him a good time?” Then my little sister starts grinding on me.

I whip the blanket off my head and shoot her the dirtiest look I can muster. She laughs harder.

She holds up her hands. “Kidding. God, you should see your face!” But then she stops laughing. “Your eyes are kind of puffy.” She kisses my forehead and whispers, “I’m sorry you look like shit for the holidays.”

“You were such a sweet baby. What happened?”

“You adore me. Admit it.” Then she tucks herself under the blanket and spoons me.

We lie there and listen to the festivities in the other room.

“So you love this Brady guy, huh?”

I sigh. “Yes.”

“Enough to have his babies and live on a farm and go all Laura Ingalls Wilder?”

“The chick from Little House on the Prairie?” I mull that over. “They didn’t have running water. So I’d say yes, but I need indoor plumbing.”

She snickers. “Please tell me Brady is hotter than Almanzo. He was kind of douchey.”

“It was that awful haircut.”

“Hmm. Yeah.” She snuggles closer and sticks her cold nose in my neck. “So if Brady were to show up on a horse, all white knight and shit, you’d forgive him for letting you go?”

Another deep sigh leaves me. “There’s nothing to forgive.”

“So you’re not mad at him?”

“God, no. I just wish things were different. That he didn’t have to go back to Boston. But I knew what I was getting into. He was always honest with me.”

“It still sucks hairy balls, though.”

“Yeah. It does.”

We spoon in silence, and I have to admit it’s nice having my sister comfort me. Makes the ache in my chest a little less acute. Less like I’m getting sliced repeatedly and more like I’m bleeding out from one gaping wound.

After a few minutes, she crawls out and declares that it’s time to stop moping. “Mom says dinner is on at seven. You should shower too because you kinda stink.”

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