Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
As much as I have a million reservations about moving in with my almost stepbrothers – kill me now – couch surfing or sidewalk sleeping would be worse.
“Okay,” I tell Mom, ignoring Randolph despite the fact he’s standing next to her. “I’ll move into Randolph’s house, and you can fly off into the sunset.”
“That’s marvelous.” She claps, missing the bitter undertone to my words. As long as Mom’s happy, I’m just expected to tag along with matching emotion.
Mom is leaving in three weeks, which gives me just enough time to sort through my belongings, decide what I want to keep, and get rid of the rest. It’ll be cleansing in a way. I’ve had the same room since I was ten, and it reminds me of the past far too much.
Maybe it’ll be cathartic to have fewer belongings, I muse, trying to reassure myself.
As it turns out, the sorting is much harder than I imagine. Mom tries to help, but we just get bogged down in memories that we’d both rather forget. Family pictures break my heart. They go into a box that I’ll store at the bottom of my cavernous new closet. My paltry selection of clothes will look ridiculous. I’m sure Randolph’s home has never seen so many thrift-store purchases.
Moving day is also a saying-goodbye day, a double whammy of unsettling experiences. Mom squeezes me tightly as we simultaneously finish loading her things into a limousine heading for the airport and packing my boxes into a removal van Randolph has paid for.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” she says as her hand strokes over the back of my neck beneath my ponytail.
“I’m going to miss you too, but you’re going to have an amazing time. I want to see everything, so make sure you send me lots of pictures, and we can video call.” I don’t want her to leave with any residual feelings of guilt.
“I will. We can call every day. And you’re going to love living with Randolph’s sons. They really are great boys.”
“I’m sure I will,” I say, imagining two preppy men who look like younger versions of their dad. The image I have in my head involves sweaters draped over shoulders, beige slacks, and boat shoes.
“They’re really excited that you’re moving in.” Mom pulls back, her hands gently gripping the tops of my arms as she looks me over. “The sister they never had.”
“I’m not their sister,” I say, shaking my head for emphasis. I might be taking this ridiculous step to becoming their housemate, but I’m not going to pretend that I’m joining a new family unit.
“You’ll be their stepsister next year when we have the wedding.” Mom tucks my hair behind my ear, trying to tidy me up as always. My style has never met her approval. “You always wanted a sibling, but it wasn’t to be.” She pulls back, tugging her purse onto her shoulder as though she’s eager to leave. She turns, gazing at the limousine, taking a step forward. “And who would have thought that anyone would have five sons in a row and no daughters?”
She says it in a breezy way, but it hits me between the eyeballs like a stray bullet.
Wait. What?
“Five?”
“Yes, Randolph has five boys, all born around a year apart. Some would say it’s a blessing. There are plenty of heirs to the family name, but I think his first wife was disappointed she didn’t have a girl.”
“I should think she was exhausted,” I say. “Five?”
The prospect of moving in with two Randolph juniors was terrible enough, but five? How can anyone be expected to live with five men? Especially when it’s likely that they all look like off-duty polo players.
My mind flicks to my friend Maggie, who’s living in a polyamorous relationship. Her father died, and she inherited a house filled with eleven foster brothers who are now foster lovers!
Eleven.
Men.
I don’t know how she does it. I haven’t found even one man who is worth my heart, and that isn’t for want of trying.
I’m not so lucky as to stumble into love as she has, and there is no way that the five Carlton men are going to be sexy in the way that Maggie’s men are.
“I just know they’re going to look after you like a princess,” Mom says.
“I don’t need looking after, Mom. I can look after myself.”
“I know, darling. But sometimes it’s nice not to have to.”
At that moment, Randolph appears with the last of Mom’s luggage. So much of her stuff has been put into storage, and it feels as though my childhood home has been boxed away, never to resurface. I’m sure Randolph’s house in Antigua is great, but there is no way that Mom’s furniture would fit in. Mom doesn’t look bothered to see her life reduced to a handful of suitcases. She simply smiles over at the man who’s changing everything for the better. Diamond earrings sparkle on her lobes, and her eyes match. There’s a ton of love in her expression, and it gives me a lump in my throat.