Page 57 of Bred By the Minotaur
“When my house is finished!”
She gives a sad shake of her head. “I’m just going to ask the same question: why? Sell the house. Move in with Hank. Have a baby together. What’s so wrong with all that?”
I hiss through my teeth. “I don’t know how to be a parent, Sandra! I watch Hank do it, and I’m just in awe of him.” I choke back tears, thinking of how much he loves Milo, how good he is at caring for him.
She doesn’t get it. None of them get it.
“Do you know why I kept those letters?” I ask quietly.
My sister furrows her brow. “What’s that matter? They’re gone now.”
“I kept them as a reminder. As a lesson. Not to be like them.”
She looks even more confused now. “Is that what you’re worried about? Our parents?”
“I don’t have it in my blood, Sandra. To be a good mother to Milo, to this new baby. I come from bad stock.”
She gasps. “Don’t say that!” Her fork rings as she sets it down hard on her plate. “You are nothing like our parents, Phoebe.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then learn from Hank,” she says. “Read all the parenting magazines. I don’t know why you refuse to see the happiness standing right in front of you.”
I swallow hard, avoiding her eyes. It’s just too much to commit to them, to both of them and the baby inside me, in the way Hank wants.
“Don’t hurt him.” Sandra narrows her gaze at me. “Don’t lead on Hank if you really intend to move out later.”
I bite my lip. Now that I’ve had a taste of him, I couldn’t possibly give up what we have.
But she might be right. If I don’t plan on staying, I should cut it off now.
Twenty-One
Phoebe
The short trip back to the house feels like walking to the gallows. Can I really end things with Hank? The idea of it, of saying those words to his face and watching him fall apart... that might break me.
I rack my brains for the right answer as I step in the door to the kitchen lights off. Imelda is in the living room, reading a book in a chair. She must have put Milo to sleep while I was gone.
We make a good team.
I sigh as I walk into the living room, ready to be interrogated again now that she knows what’s going on between Hank and me. But Imelda just looks up over the top of her glasses at me and arches an eyebrow.
“Sandra liked the mac,” I tell her.
“Oh, good.”
When I don’t say anything else, neither does she, and she goes back to her reading. I guess I’m surprised, but also not that surprised Imelda doesn’t want to talk about it. She seems to be a firm believer that her son’s business is her son’s business, so I head to the guest room to get ready for bed.
But I lie awake for an hour, and then two, puzzling over the right thing to do. My hand absently rubs over my belly, where I imagine Hank’s baby growing. Wouldn’t it be good, though, to be here when I need help later on in the pregnancy? And then... if I stayed, I wouldn’t have to hand it away to someone, never to see it again.
It would ruin everything I have with DreamTogether. Would there be repercussions for us? I need that money to pay my mortgage and Sandra’s.
It’s too tangled, too complicated. Finally, after counting a thousand sheep, I manage to drift off.
I wake up to a muzzle in my face, lips pressing against my cheek.
“It’s me,” Hank says in a low voice, kissing down my neck. He scoots me over on the bed easily, then climbs in beside me.
