Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lorelie
“Nice party, Lore.”
Chloe’s voice comes from just behind me as I’m stacking empty cake plates, and balancing frosting-smeared napkins in one hand. I like to clean as I go, always have. It keeps things from piling up, keeps my head clear.
“Thanks,” I say automatically, before it even registers.
Lore.
She’s never called me that. Not once in the eight years I’ve known her.
I glance over my shoulder and find her standing there with that familiar look, arms loose at her sides, mouth curved like she’s already bored of whatever comes next.
She’s only doing this because Patrick refused her request to keep their parents away from her.
I know it. She knows it. We both pretend otherwise.
“Bet you’re relieved,” she adds, “that you don’t have to participate in the Boise family circus of throwing a brunch day after someone’s birthday.”
I smile tightly, choosing peace. “It’s at twelve tomorrow. Same place as always.”
“Of course it is,” she says, tone sharp, familiar in a way that reminds me uncomfortably of Genesis during her you’re not my mother phase after our parents died.
Only Gen was sixteen.
Chloe is a grown woman.
Still, not my monkey, not my show.
“We’d love to have you there,” I say, already turning away, done with her attitude.
The backyard is full, kids running wild, adults laughing, Milo shrieking with joy somewhere near the bounce house. It’s loud and messy and happy. Exactly what a birthday party should be.
I almost make my escape.
Almost.
“I’d rather not listen to Her Royal Highness Boise,” Chloe mutters behind me.
That does it.
I turn so fast I nearly collide with her. “What’s your problem?” I ask, my voice calm but edged.
“Excuse me?” she says, brows lifting.
“No,” I say. “Don’t play innocent, why are you acting like a teenager right now? On your nephew’s birthday.”
She tilts her head. “I’m sorry I’m not falling for the Boise charm. I’m just finally seeing them for what they are.”
“And what’s that?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Manipulators.”
I let out a short, incredulous laugh. “How?” I ask. “By raising you? By giving you a home, even in your twenties? They supported you. Championed you. And suddenly that’s manipulation?”
“My mother,” Chloe snaps, “forced me to follow after her.”
“How?” I say, louder now. “How exactly did she force you?”
She doesn’t answer.
I step closer, lowering my voice, but it’s colder now. “You’re entering the real world, Chloe. And by pushing your family away like this, you’re about to find out what adulting actually looks like when you have nobody to call when your car breaks down.”
Her eyes flash. I don’t stop.
“You know you’re not my blood.” I say quietly. “And yet I’ve treated you like family for nearly a decade. But if you keep acting like this, if you keep tearing down the people who show up for you, I will cut you off.”
Her mouth opens.
“From me,” I continue. “From my kids. From my family.”
That finally lands.
I step even closer, invading her personal space. “Do you have any idea what it’s really like to be without family?”
My throat tightens, but I don’t look away.
“Because I do,” I say quietly. “And believe me, you wouldn’t survive it.”
With that, I turn and leave her standing alone, like she will end up, if she doesn’t get a reality check.
The noise of the party swallows me whole the second I step back into the yard. I try to shake of my anger, months of biting my tongue and letting Patrick deal with her and I finally snapped.
“Hey, Lorelie, right?”
I turn to find one of the dads from Milo’s class heading toward me, red plastic cup in hand. Blanco. I’ve talked to him once I think, during his daughter’s birthday party last month.
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Great party,” he says easily. “Romy loves your son.”
I smile. “Well, he loves Romy,” I say. And it’s true. First-grade romance is ruthless and sincere.
He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “Hey, I hope this isn’t inappropriate, but… can I ask you a question?”
Here we go.
I take a slow breath, already bracing myself. This isn’t the first time someone’s tried to get free medical advice from me, in a backyard, next to a bounce house.
“It depends,” I say carefully. “Is anyone actively bleeding or unconscious?”
He laughs, relieved. “No, no. Nothing like that.”
“Good,” I say. “Because my rate triples if I have to get blood on my clothes.”
He shifts, suddenly awkward. “It’s… uh. For a friend,” he says, which immediately tells me it’s not. “He was asking if it’s normal to have, like, shooting pains in your chest first thing in the morning? So bad he can’t get out of bed until they pass?”
My smile drops.
I study his face for a second, the way he’s trying to keep it casual, like he didn’t just say the one thing you never downplay.
“No,” I say flatly. “That’s not normal.”
His brows knit together. “It could just be stress, right? Or like, muscle stuff?”
“Any pain in the chest is bad,” I say, firm now. Doctor voice sliding into place whether I want it to or not. “I don’t care if it’s sharp, dull, burning, shooting, or ‘kind of weird but probably nothing.’ Chest pain is never something you crowdsource at a birthday party.”
He swallows.
“Tell your friend to go to the ER,” I continue. “Today. Not urgent care. Not Google. Not tomorrow morning if it happens again. The ER. They need labs. An EKG. Possibly imaging.”
His awkward smile is gone now. “You think it’s serious?”
“I think ignoring chest pain is how people end up being a cautionary tale,” I say gently. “Best case? It’s nothing and you wasted a few hours. Worst case? You didn’t.”
He nods slowly. “Okay. Yeah. I’ll tell him.”
“Good,” I say. Then, softer, because I can see the fear creeping in. “And for the record, friends who ask for help are doing the right thing.”
He exhales, thanks me, and walks off, phone already in his hand.
Feeling eyes on me, I turn.
Patrick’s standing a few feet away, one hand wrapped around a neon plastic sword Milo must’ve abandoned, the other braced on his hip. He raises a brow in the direction Blanco disappeared, mock-scowling like he’s about to interrogate a suspect.
I smile and lift a brow right back.
Challenge accepted.
He starts toward me, rolling his shoulders like he’s gearing up for something dramatic, plastic sword swinging at his side.
Only, he never makes it.
Patrick
“Hey, Mom,” I say, trying to angle around her.
She mirrors me instantly, stepping just enough to block my line of sight again. It doesn’t actually work, I can see over her head, but it definitely gets my attention.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“What?” I ask confused.
She lowers her voice, that careful, sympathetic tone she uses when she’s about to drop some unsolicited advice. “Honey… I know it’s painful seeing Lorelie with another man. But you’ve been apart for a long time. She was bound to move on at some point.”
I blink. “Mom?”
She keeps going. “You have to understand. I mean, I’m sure you’ve had needs too, and-”
“Mom,” I cut in quickly, before she can finish whatever sentence about my ‘needs’ she’s winding up to deliver.
I glance around. The kids are blissfully unaware, running wild on sugar, but the adults? Oh, they’re watching. Subtle pretending-not-to-listen watching.
“Can we not?” I murmur, gesturing vaguely with my eyes.
She huffs. “I just don’t want you to be lonely.”
“I’m not,” I say. Then, because apparently, I can’t help myself, I add, “Actually… I have someone special in my life.”
Her mouth drops open. “You do?”
I nod, trying, and failing, not to smile. “She’s amazing. Really great with the kids.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “She’s met the kids?” she asks, scandalized.
“Yes. Of course,” I say. “Actually… she’s coming to the brunch tomorrow. I hope that’s okay.”
Her mouth opens again, then closes. Opens. Finally, she says, very carefully, “If Lorelie is okay with it.”
I nod, smiling outright now. She told me I couldn’t mess with the party, and I’m not. I’m just messing with the brunch. “She is. She’s bringing a date too.”
“Oh.” My mother actually sways a little.
Right on cue, Harvey appears at her side and steadies her with a hand on her shoulder. “You okay, Mom?”
She nods, eyes never leaving me. “Apparently your brother is bringing a date tomorrow.”
Harvey looks at me, a twinkle lighting his eyes. He knows. Of course he knows.
He nods once. “She’s great.”
My mother snaps her gaze to him. “You’ve met her?”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “They picked me up from the airport.”
I smile to myself. I picked him up when he finally flew back last week, that’s also when I told him about Lore and me.
All the tension that used to live in my parents’ faces when Harvey’s name came up evaporated the second they learned why he left, the whole story, start to finish. I guess that’s what happens when you’re the precious firstborn.
Mom exhales slowly, still processing. “Well,” she says faintly. “I suppose… that’s… good.”
I glance back toward the yard, toward Lore, laughing with Gen.
Yeah.
It’s more than good.
The party’s winding down by the time Dad finds me stacking chairs near the fence, the late afternoon sun dipping low enough to make even me droopy. Kids are sticky and exhausted, filing out one by one.
“Son,” Dad says, sitting down on one of the chairs I was just about to pick up.
“Dad,” I say, stopping.
He pats his knee. “I’ve been waiting for this.”
Uh-oh.
“Your mother tells me you’re seeing a new woman.”
I huff out a breath. “Well… not new exactly.”
“Patrick,” Dad says, voice turning serious. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
Shit. The tone alone makes my stomach drop.
“Dad…” I trail off, suddenly unsure where to start.
He clears his throat; eyes fixed somewhere past the yard. “We love Lorelie. You know that. Like you do.” He pauses. “I don’t know if this… relationship is a rebound. Or if you’re using another woman to make yourself, feel better. Frankly, I don’t care.”
My chest tightens.
“But now is not the time to stroke your ego,” he says frustrated.
I don’t know what to say. So, I don’t say anything.
His jaw tightens. “Your mother left me once.”
That snaps my head up. “What?”
“She was right to,” he says quietly. “It was the only thing that made me realize I was acting like an ass. Letting a friendship with another woman cross lines it shouldn’t have.” He finally looks at me then. “I thought this separation would do the same for you.”
He exhales. “Frankly, son, I am disappointed.”
Shaking his head, dad stands and walks back into the house.
Fuck.
That was brutal.
I finish stacking the chairs on autopilot, feeling like absolute scum. What I thought was funny, clever, even, suddenly feels childish. Stupid.
By the time the backyard clears out, the sun’s nearly down. I head inside and realize everyone else is already gone. Only my parents, Harvey, Gen, and the kids remain. Milo’s asleep on the sofa.
Lore is standing in the living room, her expression tight with confusion. I catch the tail end of her sentence.
“-tradition?” she’s saying.
“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping beside her, deliberately not looking at my dad.
She turns to me. “Your dad says he can’t come to brunch tomorrow.”
I glance toward him. He still won’t meet my eyes.
I bite the inside of my cheek and look back at Lore. “I told him I was seeing someone.”
Her brows draw together. “Patrick.” Lore looks at me, unimpressed. “I thought we agreed…”
“I know,” I say quickly. “Mom asked and I-” I scrub a hand over my face. “I’m sorry. I thought it would be funny.”
She exhales through her nose, clearly not amused, then turns back to my parents, who are now staring at both of us like they’ve missed a crucial chapter.
Lore reaches for my hands, lacing her fingers through mine.
“It’s me,” she says calmly. “He’s seeing me.”
Silence.
“What?” Dad says flatly. “You lied.”
Mom covers her face, shoulders shaking. For half a second, I feel like the biggest asshole alive, until she yells.
“Oh, thank God,” she says, muffled behind her hands. “Sweet Jesus.”
I blink. “What?”
Mom lowers her hands, eyes bright. “Your dad said there was something between the two of you,” she says. “I didn’t believe him because he’s so rarely right.”
I look at Lore. She looks back at me; one eyebrow raised like really?
I turn back to my dad. “So, what was all that disappointment crap?”
Dad shrugs, completely unapologetic. “I thought it would be funny.”
Lore snorts beside me.
I make a face. “Rude.”