Chapter 41
Rachel
One hour earlier
“Hey. Your son’s talking to you.”
Sophie’s voice is what finally snaps me out of my thoughts. I look down and, as she said, Cayce is there with a toy that probably belongs to Gwen, Sophie’s eldest.
“Mom, look! I want one like this, too!”
“We’ll add it to your Christmas list,” I say.
“But Christmas was just now!”
“Your birthday list, then.”
“That’s in way too long!”
I sigh, exasperated. The last thing on my mind right now is arguing about gifts.
“Cayce, you and your brother already have lots of toys at home. I’m not having this argument with you.”
The twins turn six in June. If you ask me, that’s the perfect equilibrium between Christmas and a birthday, but he hasn’t figured that out yet.
Cayce is about to argue, but then Sophie interrupts him.
“You can come play with Gwen’s toys anytime, Cayce. You’re practically cousins now!” She ruffles my son’s hair, which earns her a giggle.
Seemingly happy, he goes back to play with Corey, Gwen, and Sophie’s middle kiddo, Heather.
Julian, on the other hand, sits firmly on Sophie’s lap, ever the velcro toddler. At eighteen months, he can walk and climb perfectly fine on his own, and even play with the older kids when they’re being careful, but the energy of the others seems to intimidate him.
I grab my mug of tea from the small table and lean back against the cushy sectional.
Right now, the kids are busy building a fort in the remainder of the living room.
Océane is in the middle of it all, helping the kids in tasks where height is necessary, despite her own short stature.
Give Gwen a few years, and she’ll dwarf her.
For a moment, I’m able to stop obsessing over how Karan must be doing, home alone, shifting that focus on my sister instead.
Her face is alight with laughter, her cheeks warm and pink.
I can only guess what type of pain is going through her body at the moment, but despite it all, she’s having a grand time with these kids.
“I’ve got to admit,” I start, gazing back at Sophie, “Océane really seems to have thrived here. I shouldn’t have been nervous at all.”
Sophie winks. “Told you.”
Today, her golden hair is tucked back in a mom bun, and I’m envious of how the cozy yet cute matching set of lilac sweats complements her long body.
How Sophie always looks put together even when rocking a ‘mom’ style is beyond me.
“But honestly, I think she’s the least of your worries right now,” Sophie adds.
“I know.” An impossible weight sits so heavily on my chest it’s a miracle that I can breathe. “But I’ve been there for him, Soph. I’ve tried so, so hard all week.”
I take a sip of the herbal tea to calm myself down.
“I literally had no other focus but him. He’s been completely catatonic.”
“I’m really not surprised,” Sophie points out, arching an elegant eyebrow. “That man and his parents were attached at the hip. Pretty sure they forgot to cut the umbilical cord thirty-one years ago. And now, he’s cut that cord. That must hurt like hell.”
“Yeah. I’ve been telling him for over a year.” I purse my lips and let air out. “I only wish I could help him feel better.”
“It’ll come with time, I’m sure. That man had literally no control over his life, and now that he’s taken back that control, it must feel alien to him.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
Sophie cocks her head. “From what you’ve been telling me, it was either his parents driving his decisions, or you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, girl, you.”
I scour my brain, overanalyzing every tiny interaction I’ve had with Karan over the last fourteen years, but I don’t have time to come to a conclusion before Sophie continues on her rant.
“He was either getting pulled in one direction by his parents, or in another direction by you. Is there ever anything Karan did, of his own free will, that came from him?”
“You called for me?” Will interrupts, coming in the living room with a tray of snacks he’s been preparing in the kitchen.
At the sight of him—or rather, the snacks—the kids cry out in glee and swarm him.
“It’s not all about you, sir,” Sophie says, rolling her eyes in jest and giggling, before turning back to me. “So. Tell me. Is there anything Karan ever did that actually came from him? That wasn’t a suggestion or pressure from either you or his parents?”
I open my mouth, ready to list out all the things Karan has going for him, but I find myself struggling to come up with a single one.
Fuck.
Is it really that bad? Before his parents came to the city, Karan was constantly happy. He was driven. He loved his old job.
A job I told him to take.
The weight on my chest doubles in size as a memory surges through my head.
The Ubisoft project.
Not only did they win Best Prototype, but Ubisoft also offered them a job straight out of school. Karan wanted to join his teammates and start his own indie game studio.
I encouraged him to take the job instead.
He trusted me. He took the job. It was hard work, but he thrived in that environment, like I knew he would.
Still, he didn’t give up on his dreams. Whenever he had a moment to himself and the two of us weren’t doing something together, I could find my husband hunched over his computer, his eyes full of stars, pouring passion into his next prototype.
He wasn’t multidisciplinary, so the game’s looks and audio were rudimentary, but he had something.
And he loved it.
When the subject of going off on his own and starting an indie game company came up, I should have been excited. What he didn’t know was that mere minutes before he told me about his idea, I’d taken a pregnancy test.
It was positive.
I didn’t force Karan to get me pregnant, though. We’d simply stopped using protection a few months back, both agreeing that whatever happened would happen. It’s just something we didn’t think about when Karan made those plans.
But the rest?
Oh, God.
I cover my mouth with my palm. Sophie places a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Is that a no, then?”
“Sophie, what do I do?”
“You start by calming down.”
Only when she says this do I notice how quick my breathing has gotten. I listen to her and take a few deep breaths.
Further in the living room, the kids and my siblings are too focused—and too loud—to pay us any attention.
Good.
Julian wriggles on his mother’s lap to go join the others, probably enticed by the snacks. Sophie lets him go, but not without pressing a quick kiss on his head.
“So, yeah, I think the next few weeks are going to be tough on him,” she continues. “Why do you think I told you to bring your kids here?”
“I thought it would be better by now.” My voice is weak. “And Océa—”
“And let me tell you,” she interrupts, wagging her index finger, “that man is not the only one with unhealthy attachments to his family, ma’am.”
“What?” I look over at Océane, making sure her focus is still not on us. “Karan said he was fine with her living with us.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t ask him first.”
“Yeah, but he agreed with it after all.”
“Rachel, that’s not the point.” Sophie sighs and shakes her head. “You were like this with Will, too, you know. You put all of this weight on your own shoulders and somehow believe that you’re responsible for everyone’s well-being.”
“That’s because I am.”
“Are you, though?”
“My parent a—”
“Are no longer in your life.” Sophie clasps my hands in hers, quieting her voice, her big blue eyes bore into me. “Look at them.”
I take a look at Will and Océane again, seeing that Océane is now play-wrestling with Will.
Fuck, he’s going to hurt her.
No, he’s not. He knows what he’s doing. He’s not an idiot.
Sophie chuckles. “I was about to say, look at them, and see how they’re adults. But now they’re acting like kids, so it’s not really helping my point.”
“I know they’re adults.”
Will is, in fact, older than me. But Océane is twenty-one years old. She’s an adult, but barely. With our age difference, she was practically my baby.
“But…” I look back at Sophie, my lower lip trembling. “You said it yourself. Our parents are gone. She’s got no one else.”
Sophie huffs. “Oh yeah? Fuck me and Will, then.”
“That’s not what I mean—”
“No, that’s what I’m talking about, Rach.” She squeezes my hands tighter. “I know you don’t mean it as an insult, and I don’t take it as one. Your trauma has you convinced that you’re the only one you can trust to take care of the people you love. Well, I’m here to tell you, it’s bullshit.
“You are not alone, Rachel. You haven’t been alone in a long time. And if you don’t believe me…” She lifts her nose in the direction of my siblings again. “Maybe you should talk to them. See what they have to say. And actually listen instead of making assumptions about who’s capable of what.”
Before I have a chance to reply—or even think through anything—Sophie whistles loudly. The entirety of the room stops what they’re doing and looks in our direction.
“Will. Océane. It’s sibling talk time. Rachel needs some air, so why don’t you go with her?”
“I do no—”
“Shut up and go talk to your family,” she whispers in my ear before pushing me off the couch and forcing me to stand.
Oh, well, shit. Looks like this is happening.
The three of us, all bundled up in our warmest winter gear, don’t say a word at first as we begin our walk down the street. Only the ambient sound of the city, along with the crunching of our boots against the crackling snow and ice covering the sidewalk, keeps us company.
I purposefully walk at a slow pace to give Océane a chance. It seems like she’s having a good day, from the way she’s been goofing around with Will and the kids, but still. I don’t want to exaggerate and take too big a risk.
It’s not like we’re rushing to go anywhere, either.
I’m very aware of what I have to say. The words keep bouncing around in my head like ping pong balls, and it’s all I can do to keep them inside and overthink them.
Once I speak them into reality, I cannot take them back.