Chapter 2
Chapter Two
MATT
“ H ey, it’s me!”
As usual, the first to (un)welcome me to my parents’ house is Mom’s creepy three-legged creature—some might call it a cat. Unsurprisingly, it stands at the end of the hallway, back arched, and hisses.
Little satanic devil.
I thought cats had a life expectancy of roughly fifteen years, but Freddy is blowing off every prediction.
Twenty-one years old and still the meanest motherfucker in the house.
Last week, when I walked past him, he growled and played Tarzan on my leg, biting so hard that his lone tooth pierced the fabric of my jeans and left a bloody mark on my calf.
“Mom, come get your thing out of the way!” I yell from the doorway.
Freddy hisses again, low and deep, and maybe it’s my sleep-deprived brain, but his pupils almost seem like they’re glowing.
“You’re so dramatic.” Mom appears, scooping up her abomination, who proceeds to rub its face on hers and purr . “Who could he possibly harm? Huh, Freddy? Who? Tell me, who?” she says in a baby voice, holding the cat in front of her face.
When she nuzzles into his gray fur, I swear he watches me and smirks. Twisted two-faced asshole.
I take off my boots and grab the flowers I brought, keeping him in my peripheral vision as I skirt past them, half-expecting a paw to come swinging.
In the kitchen, Dad is making his usual Sunday roast. Daphne sits on one of the stools, deeply engrossed in her coloring book.
“Hey, Daph.”
My sister doesn’t look up. Her tongue is stuck between her teeth while she outlines a rose with a red crayon.
“Daph. Daphne.”
“Can’t hear you, bud.” Dad taps his ear and nods at her. “She has it on to the max.”
I crane my neck, and sure enough, I spot the AirPods hiding under her long blond mane. So I round the counter, then lower my face to its surface and wave.
When she catches sight of me, she breaks into a big, toothy smile. “Matt!”
She jumps off her chair, darts over to me, and pulls me down for a hug. “Hey, Daph.” I circle one arm around her and lift her off the ground, holding her as tightly as she clings to me.
“You let your hair down today,” she says. “I like it better this way. It looks like mine.”
“It does.” With a kiss to her cheek, I set her on her feet. “What were you listening to?”
“My nature sounds playlist.” With one hand on her hip, she glares at the man beside me. “Dad was cooking very loudly.”
He only smirks in return. “I might have dropped a pan.”
“Anyway, it was perfect because I’m working on coloring this rose, and with those sounds, I could almost believe I was in a field full of flowers—oh, except roses grow on bushes and they have so many thorns.
A field of rose bushes wouldn’t be very comfortable.
I don’t think I’d like it. I wouldn’t want to accidentally hold a rose too close to my body and get my heart pierced like the nightingale. ”
I smile, amused. “I doubt the thorn would be long enough to get to your heart, Daph.”
“You never know.” With a shrug, she settles on her stool again. She picks up her crayon, tucking her hair behind her ears, and watches me expectantly. “What bouquet did you make today?”
“Someone ordered flowers for a Barbie-themed party, so I made a total of forty using zinnias, snapdragons, echinacea, strawflower, yarrow, lisianthus, and apple mint.”
Her eyes grow wide. “Your store must have been so pink.”
“It really was. I took photos for you.” I fish my phone from my pocket and swipe the screen to unlock it. “Look.”
As I open the photo of the forty completed bouquets inside the store, she gasps. “They take up the whole store! And you even used pink tissue paper. Did they like it? Can I keep the photo?”
“Yes, they did. And yes, I’ll send it to you later. But I can do you one better.”
With a flourish, I whip out a small pink bouquet from behind my back.
Daphne squeals, the sound ear-splitting. “This is gorgeous . Can I have it?”
God, I love her. “Of course, silly. It’s for you.”
She plunges her nose into the zinnias and inhales deeply. “They smell so dreamy. Thank you, Matt. I’m gonna put them in a vase in my bedroom.”
Without waiting for a response, she darts down the hallway and up the stairs to her room.
“You just made her day,” Dad says as he slides the roast into the oven. “I take it business is going well?”
“It is, yeah.” I rough a hand through my hair. “I have an important meeting with a venture capital firm next week. Thinking about expanding.”
“Already?” Mom chimes in as she joins us—sans Freddy, thank god. “It’s been, what, five years since you opened the store? And you’ve been working so hard. Why not take it easy for a bit? Focus on something else for a while. Maybe someone .”
A groan threatens to escape me, but I lock it up tight.
Here we go again. When will my eligible son find someone to spend his life with?
Will I ever have grandkids? You know, I’m not getting any younger.
Are you not interested in girls, is that it?
I’ve heard them all, and Mom is barely fifty. She’s not going anywhere anytime soon.
I exhale sharply, biting back a retort. “It’s my business, Mom, not a hobby. I can’t just ‘focus on something else.’ And I don’t want to pass on this opportunity. It could be huge.”
With a sigh, she deflates. “As long as you’re happy, sweetie, and not burning yourself out. You know how much I hate it when you put too much on your plate. I hardly get to see you.”
“You see me every Sunday.” I arch a brow, giving her a pointed stare. “And besides, Daphne’s here. Spend time with her.”
Mom waves me off. “You know how she gets. It’s hard to do anything with her.”
I grit my teeth, tamping down my irritation. “Mom.”
“What? I’ve tried so many things, Matt, and she’s not getting any better. Last time I took her to the mall for back-to-school shopping, she freaked out thirty minutes in and we had to leave.”
“You know the mall is too crowded, and you brought her there anyway?” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.
That must have been hell for my sister. Guilt sinks in my gut.
If I’d been with her, I could have protected her.
I was probably busy with the store, and the thought makes me sick.
“The mall overstimulates her. Did she at least have her headphones to cancel out the noise?”
Mom lets her arms fall to her sides with a huff. “I don’t know, Matt. I can’t keep up with all her little quirks. Why can’t she be more like you? You’ve always been so easy-going, even when you were a kid. I’m telling you, it’s a phase. She’ll grow out of it.”
I clench my jaw and groan. “It’s not a phase , Mom. Daphne’s autistic. It’s not something she can get rid of.”
Mom frowns. “You shouldn’t call her autistic. Barbara at work says it’s ‘people with autism’.”
I drag a hand down my face. “We’ve been over this already. Daphne’s autistic. Saying ‘with autism’ makes it sound like she’s sick or something. She’s not. It’s just how her brain works. And since when do you care what Barbara thinks anyway?”
Bouncing my knee, I glance at my dad, who stays focused on cleaning the kitchen, pointedly ignoring the conversation. It’s always been like this—this weird dynamic between the two of them.
Dad understands Daphne. He went to every one of her specialist appointments, joined parents’ information sessions, and carved out time in his schedule to take her to activities with other autistic teenagers.
Ever since her official diagnosis, he’s done all he can to support her.
Except shut my mom down in situations like this, I guess.
But Mom? She’s a different story. She isn’t a bad mother, despite some of the shit that comes out of her mouth. Her love for her kids is beyond any measure. But with Daphne, it’s like she’s hit a wall of ignorance and has no idea how to move around it.
Her generation was raised with hands of steel. The only wounds that mattered were physical. All other slights, hurts, and disappointments could be fixed with a bit of hard work and perseverance. Dad’s upbringing was less traditional in that regard, I suppose.
Mom really does try with Daph, but she often falls short, and then, they both end up miserable.
And I’m caught in the middle. Being my sister’s most fervent protector while trying to live up to Mom’s perfect image of me.
Dad moves behind Mom and cups her arms, dropping a kiss in her hair. “She’s doing her best, honey. Matt, can you get your sister? Dinner’s ready.”
I study Mom for a second, noting her frown, and sigh. “Sure.”
Upstairs, Daphne is locked in her room, with a “You shall not pass ” sign hanging on her door.
I snort and tap my usual pattern on the wood: three knocks, a pause, two knocks. “Dinner time, Daph.”
“Coming.”
There’s a thump, and an instant later, the door flies open and my sister stands proudly on the other side, a sprig of echinacea in her hair.
“That’s very pretty,” I say.
“Thanks.” She pats the flower. “I want to stare at the flowers all the time, but that might be hard. So this way, I can have a piece of the bouquet with me. Then, if I want to, I can take it out and look at it.”
“That’s very true. Come on, Mom and Dad are waiting.”
As I hit the bottom step with Daphne on my heels, Dad’s voice carries all the way to us. “Maybe we can still cancel it.”
“Cancel what?” I say as I slide into my usual seat at the dinner table.
“Well, sweetie—”
“Deborah.” My dad presses his lips together, his attention drifting to Daphne.
I follow his line of sight, then look at him, frowning. “What’s going on?”
With a sigh, Mom sets her napkin on the table. “It’s not a big deal, sweetie. You know our thirtieth anniversary is coming up. And, well, we booked a month-long cruise for the occasion. The reservation was made months and months ago. We’re leaving next week.”
Dread curls in my gut. “Daphne’s first day at her new school is next week. You can’t leave.”
Dad clears his throat.
“Oh, she’ll be fine.” Mom waves like she’s batting at a fly. “We can’t cancel it. It’s a nonrefundable trip.” She looks at Dad, then at me. “We were hoping you would take care of Daphne while we’re away.”
I rein in the “absolutely not” that tries to push its way out of my mouth.
Even if Daphne is only half listening to this conversation, she shouldn’t be subjected to yet another instance where someone makes her feel unwanted.
She wouldn’t understand all the reasons behind my initial reaction.
I love her to death. I’d do anything for her.
But the timing couldn’t be worse, and on such short notice…
I sit forward, forearms on the table. “Can’t you reschedule? Go next month, maybe?”
“We could probably look into it, Deb,” Dad replies.
“It’s not ideal,” she quickly retorts, shooting him a glare. “According to the cruise website, the weather in both Alaska and Hawaii is perfect in September.” Mom sniffs. “You’ll be fine, Matt. The two of you love spending time together.”
“We do, but I’m in the middle of clinching a huge investment opportunity. I can’t take care—” I glance at Daph, only to find her chomping on a hunk of Dad’s roast, her focus fixed on me.
“You can’t take care of me?” she asks, mouth full.
“Of course I can,” I rush to say. “But next week would be difficult. I’m very busy with work. I don’t know if I could drive you to your new school and make sure you’re doing okay on your first day.”
Mom places a hand on my forearm, as if her touch might appease the annoyance forming inside me. It does not. “I wouldn’t ask if we could change our plans, sweetie. I’m afraid we don’t have an alternative.”
I stare at her, fork frozen in midair. Of course there’s an alternative. Canceling. Canceling the damn cruise. And ask ? She’s not really asking .
“We deserve a break.” Her attention drifts to Daphne. “You could have your meeting once when we come back, couldn’t you?”
Anger claws at my throat, but I swallow it down for my sister’s sake.
She’s not a bad mother, she’s not a bad mother. She’s just stressed and ignorant. Be patient.
Eventually, my irritation fades. But so do the high hopes I had for this meeting next week.
It was a friend of a friend of a friend situation.
An accountant James knows through his job put me in contact with his brother-in-law.
The guy works for a venture capital firm looking to invest in fast-growing start-ups in rural areas.
I fit the bill to a T. My business is booming, and I’ve won several prizes for my creations, but I don’t have the resources to maintain my current workload.
I need money. To hire, to expand. But mainly to help my dad pay for Daphne’s private school.
The one my mom refuses to contribute to.
I don’t know whether I’ll ever have another opportunity like this again. And there’s a good chance they won’t agree to wait a week for me. Business is a fast-moving train. If I miss it, then there’s no telling when the next one will show up. If it’ll show up at all.
I’ve poured my heart and soul into Daphne’s Wildflowers, but at the end of the day, family comes first. My sister always comes first.
“Looks like it’s going to be you and me for a whole month, Daph.”
She shrieks, her voice full of glee.
I laugh in response, but the sound is hollow, empty. Much like the brighter future of my store I’ve just closed the door on.