More than Once

11

CHAPTER SIX

BECCA

When I stepped inside my sister’s house, more annoyingly cheerful Christmas music was playing in the living room and the air smelled of delicious carb-filled food. I set my keys on the front entry table, and Hannah slammed into me at top speed, her red cape trailing behind her, her little arms wrapping around my legs. “Becca, Becca, Becca!”

I laughed and kneeled down to give my five-year-old niece a hug. “Hey, Supergirl.”

“Mommy says you’re bringing a boy over,” she said in a singsong way.

“Your mom is right. Where is she?”

“In her room.” A sad frown tugged at her tiny mouth. “She was crying. I brought her a tissue box.”

Oh, s**t. I wondered if Trish was having problems with Matt again. “That was good thinking. I bet she appreciated that.”

My mom stepped out of the kitchen, wearing a red apron with a snowman on it. “Hi, dear. Food is almost ready. Did you bring the wine?”

Shit, s**t, s**t. I’d been so messed up over running into Andrew and then Jared’s phone call that I’d completely forgotten. Turned out I did need all those reminders—and more, apparently.

“Crap, I’m sorry. I got busy at work and forgot. I’ll run out and get some now.”

My mother’s face took on that look she always got when I disappointed her. A strained smile, a tightness in her eyes. “No, don’t bother. It’s too late now and the snow is coming down something fierce. We’ll have to make do without.”

My gut tightened. Once again I’d proved to be a failure. “I’ll text An—Brett and see if he can bring some.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh, that would be wonderful, but only as long as it’s no trouble. He sounds like such a nice boy. I can’t wait to meet him.”

“He’ll be here soon enough. Try not to smother him to death, Mom.”

“I make no promises.” She glanced up the stairs. “Go get changed, and then check on Patricia, would you? Hannah, come help me with the rolls, dear.”

They disappeared into the kitchen, and I sent Andrew a quick text asking him to pick up some booze. He replied that he’d be happy to, and I felt myself smiling as I read his text. Why was I smiling? One night of pretending, I reminded myself. Followed by one date, and then we’ll probably never see each other again.

I stuck my head in the living room and said a quick hello to my dad, who was nursing the fire beside the Christmas tree. Then I headed up the stairs two at a time and into the guest room I’d been using for the last few months.

I changed quickly, donning a short, hunter-green dress my sister had picked out, but I kept my combat boots on. It might piss off my mother, but I had to keep a tiny bit of myself somewhere in my outfit. I quickly fixed up my hair and makeup, reapplying the red lipstick I knew Andrew liked so much, then went off in search of Trish.

Her bedroom door was closed, so I knocked on it using our code from when we were kids. “Come in,” she called.

I eased open the door and found Trish sitting at the window seat, gazing out across the front yard. Through the window, the neighborhood could be seen all lit up with lights and dotted with snow. A beautiful white Christmas, and Trish fit the picture perfectly, with her pale gold hair, red lace dress, and sparkling jewelry. But as I got closer, I saw that my twin sister’s eyes were wet and puffy and the perfect image crumbled.

We had identical features, but we couldn’t be more different. Instead of combat boots, she wore glittery ballet flats, and the only piercings she had were tiny diamond studs. Our hair was the same color now that all the dye had faded out of mine, but hers was long and styled into glamorous waves. My favorite color was black, while hers was pink. I loved music, and she loved books. And while I’d spent the last few years partying all night and making bad decisions, she’d been at home, raising her daughter and being the perfect wife.

I sank beside her on the window seat. “Hannah told me you were crying.”

“Did she?” She gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “I tried to hide it from her, but she’s very perceptive.”

“Is it Matt?” I asked. “Where is he?”

“He left to get more firewood, but I think that was just an excuse to get out of the house.” Her voice cracked a little at the last words, and I worried she might start crying again. She shook it off with a smile. “Can you believe it’s snowing this much? We might actually have a white Christmas this year.”

“Are you two fighting about me being here?” I asked, ignoring her question. “Because I plan to get my own place as soon as I have enough money saved up, I swear.” Which would take longer now that I was without a job again. Dammit.

“No, we love having you here. You’re such a help with Hannah. Marriage is just tough sometimes.”

Once, they’d been Patricia Collins and Matthew Nakamura, valedictorian and class president, prom queen and king, that one couple everyone admired and predicted great things for—until they’d gotten married at eighteen when Trish found out she was pregnant. All Trish’s plans for college had vanished after that, and she’d become a stay-at-home mom while Matt worked nights as a security guard and went to college (and now, law school) during the day. They were only able to buy this house with the help of his parents—with plenty of bedrooms for more kids in the future—but lately, I had the feeling that wasn’t what my sister wanted.