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I don’t know what to say. She’s never been to one before anyway. What’s to feel sorry about? She would have sent a text telling me she couldn’t make it anyway, if she acknowledged it at all.

It’s the fact that she called attention to it that’s making me ache inside.

If she’s missed seeing it for months, does that mean my emails go to junk mail? I know she’s obsessed with checking her inbox to get rid of the little red dot on her phone. She lets her junk box fill up before she checks that one.

“Damn,” she mutters and takes a deep, steadying breath. Like she’s bracing herself for an argument.

It makes my guts churn with nerves. I’m a champ at fighting back word for word. Whatever she’s about to say is going to piss me off.

“Did you maybe send it late?”

My brows furrow. What a lame-as-hell attempt to put the blame on me. “I have that stuff set up to automatically send to family. And I post it on social media at the same time. It’s scheduled.”

“I missed it there, too? Are you sure you set this one on the right day?”

I am. I’m always excited about expos. I meet new people and make a good bit of money. I’m proud to do them and want to share them with anyone who would listen.

“Sure,” I suddenly agree, even though it kills a little piece of me to give in.

She’s wrong, and she knows it. She’s just digging herself deeper into the lie and trying to force me to accept that it’s my fault instead of hers.

Making her admit it would be pointless. An argument that ends with me as the bully who makes her face her mistakes. I’m suddenly exhausted at the thought of fighting it out to prove her wrong.

I’m so tired of trying. It’s obviously gotten me nowhere if I’m still having to do it. If they want to see me as evil, let them. I know myself better than they ever will.

My quick capitulation makes her take another breath. This one is in surprise.

“Oh,” her laugh is relieved. “Since you’re in a good mood, maybe I can convince you to drop Maman from the list you have? They get her fired up on a rant about tattoos every time.”

I guess she’s striking while the iron is hot. I gave in to one thing, and now she’s pressing for more. How could she think I’m in a good mood for letting this slide? Ithurts.

“The rant gets a little old at family dinner,” she presses on. I can imagine her face now. Wincing and hopeful at the same time. Even the background noise on her side has stopped so her husbands can listen in.

“I’m familiar.” My voice is starting to get quieter. I don’t mean for it to do that. It’s not like me.

I came to this town to get away from that type of rant. But Sophia and Suzette are still around for them.

“Addie?”

Her hesitant call of my name brings me back from my thoughts.

I’m changing this right now. I don’t need this extra stress.

“You’re right. I don’t have to get the rant in person, so why should you?” I try to sell it with a laugh that sounds brittle.

“Really?” Her surprise is a bit much. I’ve given in on things before, haven’t I?

“Yeah,” I say with more determination than before. “I don’t want anyone miserable or anything.”

She seems stunned silent. I feel like I should mark my calendar for it. A silent Suzette is rare.

Am I really that unreasonable to her?

“Well, thank you,” she says, sounding elated now. It’s making me regret answering her call even more.

A text comes through, and I don’t hesitate to check who it is. I want to get away from this situation before it spirals even more.

As soon as I see Poe’s name, my attention is shot. Why stay on the phone to be miserable when I have something happy just for me waiting in the wings?