Page 163 of The Difference Between

Even though I told Gavin I can read people to near perfection, I don’t get everything right when I read strangers—it’s impossible to know everything about someone you don’t really know—but I’m never wrong when it comes to my sisters.

Ever.

I don’t know if it’s DNA bound or years spent living under the same roof or an invisible tie that can’t be explained, but I know every mannerism. Every angle of an eyebrow, tone of voice, or pitch of their shoulders.

Every glass of water, tired smile, and cracker.

Even when it makes my world crumble for the second time in one day.

“You’re pregnant.” The words slip out of me and physically hurt my mouth. Rue’s eyes go wide before snapping to Nash’s. He shrugs and grins.

She is.

Rue’s pregnant.

“For once, Reese,” Nash says with a raise of his glass, “I’d love it if you weren’t the smartest woman in the damn room.”

Remy gasps. “What?”

Rue beams, raising her water overhead. “Guilty as charged.”

Rue’s pregnant.

Everyone screams—Mom, Remy, and Rue instantly burst into tears—then attack each other with hugs and handshakes. Nash laughs at something Gavin says, and the kids all squeal like the baby is about to show up.

Everyone smiles but me. I stand there, numb, thinking of how fucked up God’s sense of humor must be.

Rue’s pregnant.

Due dates are being tossed around. Names. Nash wants a boy but will be happy with healthy. I go to the counter where the champagne is and drink another whole glass.

And another.

Rue’s pregnant.

Bennie radiates joy as everyone tells her what a great big sister she’ll be. I hear Addie say, “I want to be a big sister,” and I uncork another bottle then check my phone. I need to get the fuck out of here.

I want to disappear. I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole and delete me from this room. This day. This life.

Rue did everything wrong and I did everything right and she’s pregnant at forty-fucking-two.

Her singsong voice carries across the chatter to say, “Ree-Ree, looks like you should be taking tips from me now.”

Mom laughs while Remy says, “That’ll be the day.”

When I say, “That will be the fucking day,” even the walls seem to hold their breath.

“Reese,” Mom scolds.

“What?” I snap. “I fix your business. I find a surgeon to fix your brain.” I pause for them to argue. “And Rue gets pregnant?”

Gavin’s next to me again, worried and reaching for me.

“No,” I bite out. “Do not.”

He stills, mouth open and blue eyes wide.

“You know what else will be the day?” I raise my flute to the room while Mom ushers the kids out of the room. “When one of you comes to Chicago to visit me for a change.” I scoff then take a hefty sip. “Instead of me always having to come down here to clean up everything.”