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I was young when Mom and Dad split up, so I don't know all the reasons why their marriage didn't work. Given the fact that my mother remarried, and my father has remained single his entire life, I have a pretty strong inclination that she stepped outside. I’d venture to guess that he was so hurt by it that he never found it in himself to get into another relationship.
And if Amelia was old enough to witness that, I could see how it might affect her in a way that made her feel like that's what relationships are supposed to be, whereas I was oblivious to what was really going on. Instead, I sympathized with my dad, who I was closer to anyway.
I wish I could sit here and tell my sister that I’m here to help her or that I’ll be with her through this as she navigates the difficult situations that will surely arise from being pregnant and not knowing who the father is.
But I can't be that person for her.
We're not close, we've never been close, and a single apology when someone is hit with the blunt force of her own actions would never be enough for me to get over the lifetime of hurt she's caused me.
Still, she's bringing a baby—my niece or nephew—into this world, and that precious child doesn’t deserve to have its mother's terrible actions held against him or her.
“Have you told anyone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t know who to turn to.”
“So you turned to me?” I ask, holding a hand to my chest.
“I know I’m a dick, but I see the way you live your life, Gracie. You’re doing things the right way, and I guess I’ve always been the screw-up. I took that out on you.”
Wow. I guess pregnancy really fucks with a mother’s brain.
I nod. “You did, and while I can forgive you, I won’t forget. I don’t know that I’ll ever trust you, Amelia. One conversation doesn’t change the twenty-five years of hell you put me through.”
She lifts a shoulder. “Not the college years when I was gone. Oh, except when I hid all your socks when I was home for break. Okay, fine. Not the years I was a teacher and only came back once in a while.”
I flatten my lips pointedly. She still managed to make my life hell even then by waltzing in and pulling Spencer right out from under me.
But I ended up where I was supposed to be. I’m twenty-five, and I own two wineries. I’m married to an NFL star who happens to be the absolute man of my dreams, and our entire future feels like it’s right in front of us. The possibilities are endless.
It all worked out how it was supposed to. For me, anyway. I’m not so sure what Amelia’s future holds.
And later, once Spencer and I have retired back to my bungalow and we’re lying in bed after a particularly exhausting round of sex followed by a shower together, he asks the question he’s been waiting to ask all day. “What did Amelia want to talk to you about?”
I pause for a beat as I draw little circles on that perfect abdomen of his. “She’s pregnant.”
“Oh, shit. Drew’s?” he asks.
“She isn’t sure.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah, you lucked out with the Newman sister you ended up with.”
He chuckles and taps me on the nose. “I thank the stars every single night for that. And, you know, Elvis.”
“You thank Elvis?”
He laughs. “When he said we ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love,’ and that’s what brought us to the chapel that night, I think he was right. He knew even before we did. So as long as you ‘Don’t be Cruel,’ I promise I won’t be a ‘Hound Dog.’” He presses a kiss to my temple.
I giggle as I look up at him, and I see the love he has for me as he gazes down. I shift up to press a soft kiss to his lips.
Wedding the wide receiver turned out to be the best drunken mistake I’ve ever made.
