Fallon
I knew this trip was going to be a disaster the second my mom sent the itinerary.
Not because of the early morning hikes or the “bonding activities” she’d planned.
But because of the guest list.
My older brother, Oliver, was flying in from Singapore with his wife — Elise — a woman I’d spoken to maybe three times since their wedding five years ago. Elise had the warmth of a marble statue and the personality to match, and the last time we’d been in the same room, she’d spent the entire dinner correcting my mom’s French.
My half-sister, Bianca, was coming too. Of course she was. And she was bringing her husband, because why not make things as awkward as possible?
Neither of them had come to my wedding.
But sure. Let’s play happy families on a weekend getaway.
I paced the bedroo
