Page 142 of Protecting What's Mine

Mack knew the reaction that was expected from her but just couldn’t muster it. Her mother wasn’t alone. She wasn’t sober. She’d just moved on to husband whatever number he was and probably wanted to pressure Mack on a wedding gift. And Mack had been paying his rent for who knows how long.

“So I was thinking, wouldn’t it be romantic to go to Mexico for a honeymoon?” Andrea began, clasping her hands under her chin and cocking her head at Mack.

And here was the ask.

It was too warm in this tight space. The light was harsh, accenting the deep lines carved into her mother’s face around the eyes, across her forehead. Her skin, once fresh and lovely, now had a sallow tint to it.

“Top you off, honey bear?” Tony offered, wiggling a wine bottle.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” Andrea giggled.

Mack felt like she was going to throw up. Once again, it was all just lies. And she’d walked right into it. Not only walked into it but bought a plane ticket, rented an SUV, and showed up on the doorstep. She wasn’t sure who she was more disappointed in, herself or her mother.

It was then that she heard the noise on the stairs, saw the bare feet, the familiar tattoo of thorns wrapped around an ankle. Anger, swift and bright, crashed over her.

“What’s with the screaming?” Wendy asked with a yawn. She’d obviously just gotten up for the day at four p.m. Her hair was dark like Mack’s, but she added bright purple streaks and extensions. Yesterday’s eye makeup was smeared under choppy, uneven bangs. She was thinner than Mack remembered. Paler. But Mack wouldn’t mistake that for weakness.

“Your sister’s here, and we just told her the good news,” Andrea announced grandly. “Wendy moved back home! Isn’t that wonderful?” she crowed to Mack.

Wendy eyed Mack coolly. She strolled down the steps and brushed past Mack to get to the pink purse hanging on a hook inside the door. She reached inside and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Mack’s here to help us celebrate my birthday. She’s taking us all to dinner tomorrow night,” Andrea said brightly. “My girls are always surprising me,” she said in an inaccurate aside to Tony.

It was then that Mack noticed the shake in her mother’s hand, the unsteadiness of her gate in the four-inch feathered stilettos under the jogging pants.

Andrea had a deep love of alcohol and had always been good at hiding it.

“Are you drunk?” Mack asked.

Andrea hiccupped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oopsie!”

Tony laughed adoringly. Wendy blew a cloud of smoke in Mack’s face.

“You said you were all alone,” Mack said. “You said you were sober, thatshewouldn’t be here, and that you were all alone for your birthday.”

Andrea waved the words away, wine sloshing over the rim of her glass and spilling onto her pants. “What in the world are you talking about? I swear, this girl should have been a writer, thestoriesshe makes up.”

“This is bullshit,” Wendy muttered under her breath. “I’m going out,” she announced.

“Don’t you want to have a big, family dinner?” Andrea pleaded.

“As far as I’m concerned, she’s not part of the family,” Wendy said, stubbing the cigarette out on Mack’s purse.

“Can I talk to you outside?” Mack asked Wendy briskly.

She didn’t wait for an answer, simply grabbed her purse and stalked out the front door. She waited on the front steps for a solid minute until the door opened and closed behind her.

“What’s your problem now? Kill another patient?” Wendy demanded, drawing her black hoodie closer around her shoulders. She had another cigarette lit and a glass of whatever wine Tony was pouring.

“She’s drinking again. She’s drunk,” Mack said matter-of-factly.

“So?”

“So she said she was sober.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Pollyanna.” Wendy scratched idly at a scab on the back of her hand. “Like you even give a shit about this family. You never have. It’s always been me and mom. Since when have you ever cared about this family?”