Page 53 of The Difference Between

And she has Down syndrome . . . and I didn’t know. Nobody told me.

Or maybe they did.

Maybe I wasn’t listening like I wasn’t listening when they tried telling me about Amanda and Greg.

Maybe one of the last times Amanda tried calling me was because she wanted to tell me and I never called her back.

How self-absorbed can I be?

“I’m sorry.” I sound like a robotic politician making a blanket statement following a tragedy. The clatter of the glass being swept into a dustpan plummets me back into my body. Because I broke a glass. Right. “If you can give me the artist’s name, I’ll replace it. Or just pay you.”

“Nonsense,” Nancy says. “You’re the one who said we have enough for everyone in town anyway.”

Gavin’s next to me, asking in a low voice, “You okay?”

I almost laugh. “Yeah, I’m—” I glance at Addie who’s looking at me with the happiest smile I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There’s no logical reason for it, yet it warms my heart just the same. “I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” he asks.

“Um.” I swallow. “Anything.”

His eyes narrow.

“I’m Addison Josephine Nickels,” Addie says, reaching a hand toward me. She’s wearing a cotton dress covered in flowers and her light hair is in two braids. She’s adorable.

“I’m Reese . . . Olivia Conway.” I have never sounded less confident in my life as I take her hand. “I’m sorry I broke the glass.”

“It’s okay.” She keeps pumping my hand and smiling. “We’re used to it with Uncle Gav.”

“Hey!” Gavin grabs her in a headlock and knuckles the crown of her head, making her laugh. “Take that back, you little buttcrack.”

“Gavin—” Nancy sighs, exasperated. “Will you stop calling her that?”

“Fine.” Gavin makes a face Addie snickers at. He releases his hold on her then pokes her belly. “But she’s still a little glass bubble.”

Addie beams at this weird title then says, “You’re a glass bubble.” Her gaze drifts to me and she pushes the bridge of her glasses. “Is Miss Reese a glass bubble?”

“Not sure, Ads.” I feel the full weight of their attention like a spotlight. “What do you think?”

She grins. “Yeah.”

Gavin winks. “Me too.”

What is happening?

To me, Addie says, “You’re pretty.”

I touch my own hair, self-conscious. Weirdly guilty even though I haven’t done a thing wrong. “Thank you. So are you.” I swallow. She is. She looks different, of course, but she’s darling. I see young Amanda there. Maybe Greg. “I like your dress.”

In a slow, somber voice, she says, “I’m a short, fat slut.”

My jaw drops, Gavin poorly stifles a chuckle, and Nancy says, “Addison Josephine Nickels, what did I tell you about saying that?” Nancy looks at me. “The speech therapist encourages repeating movie lines to help with articulation—though she didn’t say that movie line—” She shoots Addie a warning look. “Goldie Hawn says it in Overboard and Addie thinks it’s the funniest thing.”

Addie laughs like it really is the funniest thing—it kind of is.

“She wants to be an actress,” Gavin fills in. “Comedy, clearly.” In a goofy voice he adds, “She has reel talent.”

“You’ll be great at it,” I say. “I haven’t watched Overboard in years.”