“Well, pink, obviously,” she says, taking a sip of water. ‘“But I don’t want it to be Disney princess themed. I think that’s been really overdone.”
I slice the end off my asparagus and neatly take a bite, nodding along with Olivia for once at her decision not to Disney-princess-theme her unborn child’s room.
“You could always do something gender-neutral,” I point out.
All three of my sisters look at me with polite confusion and disdain, as if I’ve suggested having the baby sleep on the roof, or naming it Broccoli.
“I’d love a real princess-themed nursery,” Olivia goes on, ignoring my perfectly valid suggestion. “She’ll be the queen of our little castle, after all. If it’s a girl.”
She smiles and squeezes Michael’s hand, and he nods.
I eat some more asparagus and try not to feel too much like an alien in my own family, because as hard as I’ve tried my whole life, I just don’t get it.
I want to. Or, at least, I used to want to, before I gave up and just accepted that I’m a penguin among hummingbirds. I tried my hardest to get as excited as the four of them over engagements and weddings and dress fittings and nursery decorations and all those things that women in this world are supposed to love and that I never did.
I like all those things. Love and weddings and babies are all great. I love the hell out of Bree and Callum, and even if Olivia’s on my nerves right now, I’m excited for her kid, too.
I just cannot bring myself to care what its nursery looks like, and I’m pretty sure it’s because I’m broken.
“…that senses when the baby moves, and rocks it back to sleep so you don’t have to,” Winona is saying. “They’d just come out when Callum was born, but my friend Jenn had one for her first and she absolutely raves about it.”
Olivia’s nodding along like she’s trying to take notes, so I take the moment to find Seth’s leg under the table and give his thigh a quick you’re doing great and it’ll be over soon squeeze.
He covers my hand with his, glances over, gives me a quick, secret smile.
“…concerned about the altitude, but my OB-GYN said it was all right. Still, I’ll be keeping a close eye on things,” Olivia says.
“Honey, Snowpeak’s only at about five thousand feet,” my dad interjects.
“Well, I’m just glad you’re still coming,” Vera says, indulgently. “Family weekends are so important. With everyone.”
Seth’s leg tenses slightly under my hand, so I move it away and into my own lap, curling my fingers into a fist, fighting guilt.
In two weeks, we’re going to Snowpeak, West Virginia on our annual skiing getaway, and I have yet to mention this fact to Seth. It’s partly out of sheer thoughtlessness, because I honestly forgot it was coming up this soon, and partly because I want to invite him and also don’t want to invite him.
Vera gives me a significant look. Then she darts her eyes to Seth before looking at me again and doubling down on the significance of said look, as if I didn’t understand it the first time.
I hold my ground and look right back. We had a talk the week after Ava’s wedding, once I’d stopped being the most hungover person on the planet, and it went better than I was expecting. I’m not sure I’m fully convinced that she’s going to respect boundaries forever, but she at least seemed to acknowledge my point, so I’ll take it.
“Yes, I can’t wait,” I say, practically daring Vera to say something to Seth.
Please let me deal with this myself, I think, trying to psychically beam my thoughts into her head. I already fucked up, don’t make this worse.
She doesn’t. Miracle of miracles, my stepmother looks away and takes another sip of wine. It feels like angels shine lights from above and sing the Hallelujah chorus.
Until Olivia slides right into that silence and pipes up.
“Seth, you’re coming, aren’t you?” Olivia pipes up. “We’d love to have you along. It’s so much fun, such a nice, relaxing getaway, and the two of you could have some really romantic alone time.”
I nearly throw my fork at her. Olivia knows damn well that I haven’t invited Seth, because she asked me an hour ago whether I’d invited him and I said no.
“He’s already made plans for that weekend,” I say, smiling back at my sister, fork still gripped in my hand. “What was it you said you were doing?”
Seth and I look at each other. I’ve got a fake smile frozen on my face, and his eyes flash, even as the rest of his face stays neutral.
“I have to… help my brother find chairs for his wedding,” Seth says, his eyes never leaving mine.
I kick myself for not supplying the lie.