Page 91 of The Change Up
Bringing her trembling hand up to her mouth to cover the gasp. “Oh my god, it is you.”
My eyes bug out of my head as the overwhelming feeling to pass out washes over me. I can feel my knees buckle as Ty’s grip is the only thing keeping me standing.
“Breathe,” he whispers against my head. And I try to do just that as my mouth flounders, my mind forgetting every word in the English language.
“Wh-wh-what are you doing here?” I stammer the words out as my skill of speaking is clearly gone.
She steps forward, and I flinch at her movement like a scared deer who has just come face to face with a hunter. Camilla pauses. She has the decency to look hurt. As if.
“Mom.” I turn my head as a guy approaches her. Dressed in a Charleston baseball uniform, he looks to be a little younger than me. My eyes track the movement from where the guy approaches my mom. I watch as her face morphs into a proud smile as she stares at the guy drawing near us.
I’m so goddamn confused.
My eyes flash back to the boy and over his shoulder I see two more kids following with an older guy holding the hand of a young girl. She couldn’t be more than eight years old. Both look at each other smiling and giggling as they have no idea what shitstorm they are about to enter.
Four kids? Fourfuckingkids are making their way tomymother.
“Good game, honey,” my mother greets the boy who wraps her in a hug.
“Mom, Jessi won’t share her M&Ms,” a younger boy whines as he makes his way up to them.
My mo—Camilla’s eyes move past her children and find mine. I can’t quite decipher the look in her eyes. Embarrassment? Pride? But the one thing I can read is how nervous she is.
“I never thought I’d run into you at a ballpark.”
Scoffing, I step away from Ty who reluctantly lets me out from under his arm. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch as Niko and Hudson move toward us from where they were standing. “Youclearlyhad no intention of running into me ever.”
“Now wait—” she starts to protest, but I whip my hand in the air, cutting her off.
“You have fourfuckingkids!” I grit the words out, and they taste bitter on my tongue.
“Chloe Mariano, don’t you dare speak to me that way.” By now, the older man and young girl have joined. They look like one big happy, albeit confused, family. Nausea roils through my stomach with the overwhelming feeling of getting sick.
“You gave up the right to scold me when you abandoned me”
Hurt flashes over her features as her—husband?—slides in between her and her son, the baseball player. Her shoulders soften at his touch, and it makes me sick to watch her with her replacement family.
“Chloe, this is Heath, Maddox, Jessica, and Bria.” She introduces me to her new family. I give a tight-lipped smile because what the hell else am I supposed to do when meeting my siblings I never knew about? She looks up at the guy next to her, and a dreamy smile lights up her face. “And this is my husband Charlie. Charlie and I met a couple of years after I—after I left—“
“Abandoned,” I grumble.
“Heath is his son from his first marriage. Maddox and Jessi are ten, and Bria is eight.” She pauses, glancing over my shoulder. “Would you like to get dinner with us?”
My jaw practically hits the ground. “Get dinner with you? What, like we’re some kind of happy family?”
“Yeah, I’d like for my kids to meet their big sister.”
“You’ve had fifteen years for your replacement family to meet your original daughter. The daughter you neglected and forgot about. The daughter who spent her whole childhood waiting for her mother to come back. The daughter who has never felt like enough in this world because if herownmother couldn’t love her, why wouldanyoneelse?”
I don’t recognize the woman spewing these words. All I know is that I’m pissed. I’m hurt. I’m devastated to see that I was right all along.
I wasn’t good enough.
I wasn’t good enough for her to stay. For her to love. For her to introduce to her kids.
A tight ball is forming in my chest as a burning sensation seeps into my eyes. I can feel the tears threatening and the sobs wanting to erupt. But I refuse to cry in front of this woman. I refuse to let her see how much she’s cut me.
With one last look at the woman who birthed me, I will my feet to move. Taking off in a jog, I run past groups of people as my eyes scan the crowd looking for my favorite pair of hazel eyes. Tears burn and blur my vision. I see them up ahead, and I slow my pace to a walk. I’ve already caused enough of a scene, I don’t need to run up on my boyfriend and his parents whom I’ve never met before.
