Page 70 of Breadwinner
THIRTEEN
SARAH
RULE #9: NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR WANTING TO BE KNOWN.
Every part of Sarah’s living room was glowing except for her. She was doing her very best to hide it, not wanting to be the one to sour the mood of the day. It was Christmas, after all.
The scent of pine and French toast mixed lazily in the air as they sat around the large Christmas tree, set off in the corner, tall and towering and draped in glass-blown ornaments, twinkling lights, and an assortment of handmade crafts from Lily’s early years that she had never quite been able to let go of. Wrapping paper littered the rug in the form of crumpled up little balls of red and silver. Lily and Wren had finished their frenzied search through the branches of the tree for hidden chocolates—a family tradition Sarah had passed on. By the sounds of their triumphant shrieks and giggles, they’d just found the last one.
They all wore matching pajamas, a tradition Beth had insisted on when they were married and continued even after. Even if they didn’t see each other for the holidays, a new set of pajamas always seemed to magically appear for Sarah. This year’s set: red flannel with candy-cane trim. She felt ridiculous in them, but it was tradition, and no matter how cruel it felt sometimes, she would never break a family tradition.
And that’s exactly how she found herself in this position—sitting in her living room in matching family pajamas, pretending she wasn’t sneaking glances at Beth and Jamie where Beth was folded into Jamie’s side, feet tucked under her. Jamie, with one arm draped over her shoulders, absentmindedly stroking her arm and—nope.
Sarah yanked her gaze away. She wouldn’t torture herself unnecessarily like this. Not on Christmas. She shot up from her spot in the armchair she had been occupying, her nervous energy getting the better of her. The sudden movement drew Beth’s eyes.
“Going to tidy up a bit. Kitchen’s a mess,” she murmured, not to anyone in particular.
“I’ll help,” Jamie said gingerly.
“No, really, it’s fine.” Sarah tried to persuade her against joining, but it was no use.
For the most part, she and Jamie worked quietly, passing things back and forth easily. They weren’t quite friends, but still, she liked Jamie, even if their only interactions orbited around Beth or Lily.
“I really admire how you and Beth handle all of this,” Jamie said softly, wringing out the sponge she had been using to wash pans. “You know, the coparenting stuff, and how you still have family traditions. The family thing... it’s really rare. Thanks for welcoming me in.”
Sarah swallowed the knot forming in her throat. This was exactly why she couldn’t hate Jamie—because Jamie was so damn nice it was almost annoying.
“You’re always welcome, Jamie.” Sarah smiled. “Like it or not, you’re part of this blended family.”
“Best family I’ve ever been a part of. And I mean that.”
Sarah didn’t respond; she didn’t trust herself to. She smiled as she wiped crumbs off the counter. If there was one thing she had always been good at, it was making others feel included.
Beth’s voice carried in from the other room, distinctively bright and airy in the way it seemed to float through the air. “Can you make me a cup of tea, love?”
Habit took over her as Sarah spoke first. “Sure thing, hun,” she answered automatically, just as Jamie replied simultaneously. “Of course, babe.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Sarah froze before she looked to Jamie, bracing herself for her response, but it didn’t come. There was no judgment in her eyes, no fury, only a sort of recognition, which was somehow worse than pity. On some level, Sarah knew what it was. Understanding.
“Sorry,” she said quickly, stepping away from the counter and tossing the paper towel full of crumbs into the trash. “Force of habit.”
Jamie gave her a small, sad smile. “I get it.”
“I need some air,” Sarah muttered, swiping her phone off the counter. Without waiting for Jamie’s response, she pushed through the door leading to a small covered porch off the kitchen.
How had she let that slip? She was usually so tightly controlled, so calculated, especially when it came to all things Beth. Her hands shook slightly as she unlocked her phone and pressed Nell’s contact. It rang twice before she answered.
“Well, this is a delightful surprise,” Nell said, her smooth voice gliding through the speaker. Sarah instantly felt herself relaxing into it, into the calm Nell always seemed to carry.
She leaned against the porch railing, phone pressed to her ear, cool mist prickling her cheeks. On the other end, she couldhear high-pitched laughter and mechanical music that almost sounded like a carousel.
“Where are you?” she asked.
She registered the shift in Nell’s voice as her velvety tone gave way to dryness. “Disney World.”
“Wait, seriously?”