A gift, one I didn’t buy.
Lottie slowly unwrapped the bow, peeling the silk away and revealing the gift inside. A pair of silver cast, monogramed baby shoes.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” my mother said.
“A perfect gift for the new Crowne heir,” Lynette said. “You can put them in the nursery.”
“It’s lovely,” Lottie said to me with no emotion. “Thank you.”
Most of the time, I couldn’t look at Lottie, couldn’t be reminded of my failure. But there were times, brief pain-sharp moments—like now—when I can’t not watch her. When she looks like she’s already dead.
It made looking at her impossible, but for an entirely different reason.
“At this rate, there will be nothing left for the shower,” Lynette crooned when Lottie opened yet another gift for the baby—a Swarovski pacifier.
“It’s beautiful,” Lottie said softly
Story deserved these presents. Being forced to sit for over an hour as Lottie opened gift after gift made me even more determined to build a future where she could sit beside me. There was so much I wanted to say to Story, but I couldn’t. So I said it with my eyes.
I miss you.
I love you.
If possible, her stony eyes cracked, reading the thoughts I couldn’t say aloud.
“It is, isn’t it?” Lynette agreed. “That one is from Jack.”
Lottie stood to her feet, dropping the Swarovski pacifier to the floor like the box had been on fire. It shattered on the marble.
“I think you should sit back down.”
Lottie swayed on her feet, staring at th
e broken pacifier.
“Oh well,” my mother started with a wispy smile, on her umpteenth mulled wine. “I’m sure he can replace it—”
“I don’t want him to replace it,” Lottie snapped.
A hush came over the room, my eyes torn from Story for the first time since we started. I’d never heard Lottie speak like that.
Ever.
Like she wanted to drench her words in acid. Jack shifted uneasily across from us, on a velvet wingback. For the fucking life of me, I didn’t know why he was invited either. He wasn’t a du Lac or a Crowne.
But I’d stopped asking why when they’d stopped giving me real answers.
“Sweet pea,” Lynette said in a dulcet, pacifying tone. “I think you should sit back down.”
Lottie swayed on her feet, staring at the broken pacifier. “Why the fuck is he even here?”
“He’s family,” Lynette said.
“No, he isn’t,” Lottie gritted. “He should be home with his real family.”
Lynette’s smile flickered. “We’ve known Jack for ages; he’s basically family. You know…” Lynette turned to my mother. “There was a time when people thought Jack and I would end up together.” Lynette giggled. “But there are too many hoops when you’re royalty….”
My mother nodded along to Lynette’s story, on board with trying to lock the elephant back up in its cage.