Page 25 of I Can't Even

“I know.” She nodded and her blonde bob swept across her cheeks. “You have every right to be. I can’t believe they did this to you.”

We sipped our coffee. The bitterness of the brew curled my tongue. Soph had always like her coffee strong enough to sprout chest hair. I resisted the urge to glance down the front of my dress just in case tweezers were going to be required later.

“I saw Liam today,” Soph said after a few minutes. “He said he was sorry for my loss.”

“He said the same to me. I wonder how long he had to practice to get the words out.”

“He never took his eyes off of you.” Soph sipped her coffee, watching me over the rim.

I snorted, ignoring the relieved flutter inside my chest that at least the man wasn’t immune to me despite our past. “You sound like your daughter. Hannah told me I should "tap that.’”

“What? My Hannah?” Sophie lowered her cup.

“The only Hannah Banana I know,” I said.

“Do you think I need to talk to her?”

“No, she admitted she hasn’t “tapped” anything yet,” I said.

Soph’s spine relaxed, and she sagged against the seat back. “Oh, thank god. I am not up for that. I barely got through the discussion on how tab A goes into slot B and makes baby C and why you don’t want to do that until you are at least thirty.”

I briefly closed my eyes. “Please tell me the sex discussion between you and your kids did not go down like an IKEA furniture manual.”

“It might have,” Soph said. “I even used visual aids, which I really think upped my birds and bees game.”

“Do we have any vodka for this coffee?” I lifted my mug.

Soph laughed. “You should have seen the twins’ faces when we got to the STD portion of my PowerPoint presentation on why they should keep a lid on it. Nothing screams “abstinence” quite like the image of a cankered wanker with a full-blown case of syphilis.”

“Sweet baby Jesus!” I shook my head. “And how is their therapy fund?”

“Plentiful,” Soph said. “They’ve grown up so fast. I feel as if I’m losing them and if they go away this summer...I don’t know if I can let them go, Jules.”

“I know,” I said. I didn’t. I mean I only had two cats, which was not even close to the same thing, but I hated the idea of not being with them for three months, so poor Soph had to be reeling. “Maybe Mr. Loren can find a loophole. I mean, we can’t really give up our lives for three months. Babs can’t reasonably expect that. Maybe we could contest the will.”

“Maybe.” Soph glanced over her shoulder at the stairs. “But I think I know why Babs asked this of us.”

“Why?”

“For Em. She’s never lived alone. I think Mom wanted us to watch over her for awhile.”

I nodded. That, at least, made sense. It was still impossible but at least there was some rationale behind it.

We finished our coffee. Em’s cup sat untouched. I knew my younger sister was upset with me, but I still felt like I was the one taken out at the knees and I just didn’t have it in me to coddle her right now.

“So, what are you going to do?” Soph asked.

“About?”

“Everything,” Soph said. “Your birth mother, New York, Liam, all of it.”

“New York isn’t going anywhere,” I said. “I can work just easily from here as there, although I do miss my cats.”

“How are Spaghetti and Meatball?”

“In good hands,” I said without elaborating. I was going to have to cry, beg, and plead to get Jessie to continue watching them for me, but desperate times and all that.

“As for my birth mother, I don’t know,” I said. “It’s been twenty-seven years. Who knows where she is or if she’d even want to see me.” The mere thought of looking for her made me queasy.

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