Page 90 of This Kind of Forever

She lets her fork and knife clatter to her plate. “Hallie,” she says with a frustrated huff, “can you help me?”

“Of course,” Hallie says immediately. “These pancakes are tricky, aren’t they?”

What guts me even more is how good Hallie is with my daughter. She doesn’t see it, but I do. Abbie will always have me and Larissa, but the connection she shares with Hallie is different. Special. I don’t want her to lose that.

As everyone eats, conversation springs up around the table. Luke and I inevitably start talking about work, and Dad chimes in on occasion. The urge to tell them both about Ethan’s offer presses on me, but I hold back. Breaking the news in the middle of brunch is not how I would want to go about it, especially after the not-a-fight Hallie and I had beforehand.

When the food is almost gone, and the girls have gone off to play, there’s a lull in conversation. Dad shares a look with Mom across the table, and then he clears his throat. “Your mom and I have something we’d like to tell you.”

Clara’s head jerks up. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?” She turns to Mom. “Areyousick?”

“Jesus Christ, Clara,” I curse. It isn’t uncommon for her to jump to conclusions, but damn.

“No one’s sick,” Mom is quick to reply. “It’s nothing like that, sweetheart. Nothing bad. It’s just something we’ve been mulling over.”

“What is it?” Luke asks. Even though Mom said it wasn’t bad, he’s still wearing that uber serious expression of his. The one he uses to brace for unfavourable news.

“We were thinking of taking a trip,” Dad says. “Friends of ours have a place down in Mexico. They invited us to spend the winter there.”

“A trip? Out of the country?” Clara’s eyes have almost bugged out of her head. “You don’t even have passports. Andallwinter? What about Christmas? What about Haven House? I mean, have you really thought about?—”

“I think it’s a great idea,” I interrupt, before my twin lets her imagination run wild. “The bed-and-breakfast will be closed for the season soon. As for Christmas, we don’t do much anyway.”

The holiday is always a low-key affair. Even when we were kids, besides opening presents, it was a calm day at home. It’s no different now that we’re adults, only Abbie and Sophia will be the ones waiting for Santa.

I’d been looking forward to spending the day with my girls. Last year, I had to work, and my daughter spent the holiday with Larissa. This year was supposed to be different. Only, now I’m not sure where Hallie and I will stand by the end of next month.

“It’s still tradition,” Clara argues. “You’re with me, right, Luke?”

Our brother scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Traditions change, Clarebear…”

Realization dawns on her. He wants to spend the holiday with Delilah and her siblings.

Clara crosses her arms. “I see.”

“Clara,” Mom says gently. “We don’t have to go, if you really don’t want us to. It was just a thought.”

As stubborn as Clara is, she also has the biggest heart. So when she sighs, I know she’s giving in. She may be disappointed, but she’d never stand in our parents’ way.

“No,” my sister says. “If you want to go, you should go. You’ve worked hard for a lot of years. You deserve a vacation.”

Dad smiles. “We’ll send you a postcard.”

She points a finger at him. “You two better call me all the time. I don’t care how much it costs!”

I fight back a laugh. Clara has often lamented Luke being overprotective, but she can be no better. I think that’s just what we do in this family—we care, sometimes too much.

“Will you watch the house for us while we’re gone?” Mom asks her. “I’m worried the pipes might freeze, but I also don’t want to keep the heat on blast if no one will be here.”

Clara nods. “I can just stay here instead. My apartment will be fine.” With it being above the bakery, the heat is always on inside the building, and I’m sure the warmth from the ovens travels up to her place, too.

Dad throws his arm over Clara’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. “What would we do without you?”

“Well, you wouldn’t have a favourite child,” she replies.

Luke flicks a sliced strawberry across the table at her, and she gasps, pulling out of Dad’s arms. “Delilah! Do you see what kind of uncivilized man-child you’re in a relationship with?”

Delilah can’t hide her giggles. “I’m incredibly sorry, Clara, but I’m kinda in love with him.”