Page 55 of Defensive Desire

Next time, I'd promised him.

If there is a next time. If tonight doesn't dissolve into the usual mixture of thinly veiled criticism and comparisons to my perfect sister.

"There she is!" Melanie calls from the porch, as if right on cue, waving enthusiastically as I approach. "The busy entrepreneur herself!"

My sister looks radiant in a simple floral dress, her blonde hair pulled back in an effortless ponytail that still somehow looks magazine-worthy.

Because of course it does. It's Melanie. My perfect sister.

She has James perched on her hip, the youngest of her three perfect children, while Ben and Maddie are visible through the window, playing angelically in the living room.

"Happy birthday," I say, hugging her awkwardly around the toddler. "Sorry I'm a few minutes late."

"Coffee emergency?" Melanie teases, but her smile is kind.

"Something like that."

More like a dozen espresso shots to fortify myself, but who's counting?

I follow her inside, where the familiar scent of our mother's signature pot roast and lemon furniture polish washes over me.

The house hasn't changed in decades. Same formal furniture, same stale emptiness, same family photos arranged in perfect chronological order on the mantel.

But…

Wait.

Somethingisdifferent.

I notice my graduation photo has been replaced with a newer one. It's a picture of me cutting the ribbon at Chapter & Grind's opening day.

The sight stops me in my tracks.

"Emma!" My mother emerges from the kitchen, perfectly coiffed in a pastel sweater set, pearls gleaming at her throat as though she's expecting the Queen for tea, not her messy second daughter. "I was beginning to think you'd forgotten."

"Hi, Mom." I accept the brief, perfumed hug, the scent of Chanel No. 5 bringing back a childhood of trying not to disappoint this woman. "Sorry, the café was busy today."

"Well, at least that's good news." Cynthia Carter's smile only ever lifts one side of her mouth. "And how is your little shop doing? Still managing to pay the rent, dear?"

And there it is.

Record time, even for her.

"Actually, it's doing really well." I straighten my shoulders slightly. "I'm in the finals for this contest that would let me expand to the arena."

Her eyebrows lift slightly. "The hockey arena? That sounds... interesting."

"It's a big deal, Mom," Melanie interjects, bouncing the baby on her hip. "Emma's coffee is all anyone can talk about after hockey games."

I shoot her a grateful look. Melanie might have the perfect-daughter crown, but she's always been surprisingly supportive about my "rebellious" career path.

"Well." Mom busies herself straightening an already perfect table setting. "I suppose that's something."

Coming from Cynthia Carter, it's practically a standing ovation.

My father appears from his study, silver-haired and wearing his customary button-down tucked neatly into khakis.

"Emma!" His hug is warmer than Mom's, at least. "How's business?"