Page 52 of Sterling Heat

“Little late to ask that question. It’s not like you can return her,” Cadence jokes. Her voice is as lyrical as her name.

“I don’t want to return her.” Exasperation fills my lowered voice. “But Mom and Dad still think I made a mistake.”

“I thought you stopped listening to them.” Cadence scoffs, rolling her head on the cushions and pinning me with a glare.

“I have.” I sigh. “Dad called when I first moved here. Mom is still refusing to acknowledge she’s a grandmother.”

Cadence makes an eek-face. “They suck.”

They didn’t always suck, though, and that’s what hurts the most. In so many ways, I need my mother. I need to learn how to be a mother from her, but I don’t want to be a mother like her. One that pushes her child in a direction she doesn’t really want to go. One who convinces her child it’s better to stay unhappy than to leave an unhealthy relationship. One who judges her child’s decision-making, calling it a mistake . . . when it was not.

For my mental well-being, I had to block out the negativity of my parents and do one thing I wanted without their approval. As I neared forty, I had to stand up to them and make a decision. I didn’t need their toxicity in my life.

“But I’m still asking. Am I in over my head?” When I made the decision to have Adara, I was thinking with sound body and mind. And heart. I wanted a baby. I wanted this baby. Her. But there had been moments in the past month when I’d questioned myself. Will I be enough? Will I even be a good mom? Will she love me like I love her?

“Do you feel like you’re in over your head?” Cadence shifts so she faces me better.

“A little bit.”

She lifts the wineglass, snorting into it before muttering, “That’s shocking.”

“Why?” I stare at my sister, who is easygoing and laidback. Not that her life as a country singer has been easy but her carefree attitude allows her to skate through life.

“Because you’re the most put together person I know. You’re an accountant for heaven’s sake. You thrive on order.” She moves her hands, improvising boxes in the air, like a flow chart in the making. The wine dangerously jostles in her glass.

“You know I didn’t want to be an accountant.”

“I know,” she whispers.

I don’t fault Cadence. I’m so stinking proud of her for following her dream. For standing up to our parents and telling them where they could stick their ideals. But I also saw my parents’ perspective. They were frightened of the future. They wanted Cadence and I to take every opportunity that Seamus didn’t. They wanted us safe, secure, and employed as a means to stay out of trouble. Cadence is employed, even if they don’t believe singing on a stage is a worthy job. She makes more money than they’ve ever seen, but they still don’t understand her. It wasn’t the money Cadence chased. It was the freedom to be her own person.

While I had the same desire, it took me a lot longer to do my own thing.

I really do like accounting. I just had other aspirations when I was younger. And now I have Adara, a dream I didn’t think I wanted until time felt like it was running away.

“Have you heard from Lance?” Cadence’s question surprises me.

I scoff. “No.” Watching her, I narrow my eyes. “Why would we speak?” My ex and I have nothing to say to one another. When he broke us off, he easily walked away. Me, not so much. I’d given eleven years to the man who promised forever and dreams of a family. I’d been such a fool.

“Just thought he might have reached out.”

“You know we aren’t like that.” Last summer, we had a drunk I-miss-you moment, and it was a disaster. After that slip in judgement, I severed ties with Lance for my own self-preservation.

“He knows about the baby.” The questioning statement from Cadence holds the answer.

Lance knows. Adara isn’t his concern. He thought I was crazy to have her, just like my parents.

“So, tell me more about the hottie playing daddy? When am I going to meet him?” Cadence wiggles her brows. She’s seen the professional proofs from the hospital photographer of Sebastian holding Adara.

That’s fake-daddy? Her mouth had dropped. He can bake my cake.

I’d laughed until I realized that she might not be joking. Cadence was vibrant, famous, and very single. While she didn’t have staying power in a relationship, she did have knock-out looks and a killer body, and a penchant for one-night stands. In comparison, my body now includes swollen breasts and a pocket of skin bulging at my waistline. My belly looks like a Mack truck rolled over my flesh.

Being envious of Cadence feels pointless, but I’d be all kinds of jealous if Sebastian met her and fell for her. She’d use him up and spit him out, leaving crumbs in her wake.

Sometimes I worry Sebastian thinks I used him. As much as I’ve apologized, and thanked him, and offered money to supplement his groceries or his mortgage, he’s never accepted anything in return for what he’s done for me.

“I don’t know that you’ll get the chance.” Sebastian has been absent the entire week my sister has been present. Other than a mysterious drop-off, which included a mixture of Bundt cakes and cookies, along with another bouquet of flowers, I haven’t seen him.