Isla was warm, smelled of baby oil, and had on darling onesie pajamas with a star on the bum.
Violet settled on the couch, laying her niece on her lap before reaching for the wine and taking a sip. She returned the glass to its coaster and then ran a knuckle over Isla’s chubby cheek. “One day, when you’re older, Auntie Violet will tell you what not to do with your life—she happens to be an expert on the subject.”
“Stop. People who have it all together are boring, not to mention annoying.” Maisy raised her wineglass into the air. “And think about it this way. The rest of your stay can only go up from here.”
“Are you still sure you can handle me for that long?”
Maisy cocked her head as if she’d asked a preposterous question. “Everyone makes mistakes, Vi. Do you know how many pastries I’ve maimed in my bakery? I’ve tried weird combinations that’ve made me wish I didn’t have taste buds. After every disappointment, though, I dump the batter and try again. That’s how I came up with my three-berry hazelnut torte, which is famous round these parts. And in case you don’t remember, I begged you to come visit.”
It’d surprised Violet, how vehement her half sister had been about staying with her. In the past, she’d felt like Maisy—and the entire Hurst clan, really—was only going through the motions, doing the “proper” thing by her.
“Well, I’m going to do my best to avoid causing any more fiascos,” Violet said. “And if I never see a firetruck again, it’ll be too soon.”
“Are you sure about that? You and Ford seemed to have some”—Maisy peered down her nose at Violet—“dare I say, sparks?”
Violet closed her eyes, as if that’d help her go back in time and undo being such a disaster in front of the guy. “The only thing sparking was the oven, but seriously, did he have to be so hot? And did I have to be so not?”
“You looked…” Maisy grimaced and patted Violet’s knee. “Let’s go with charmingly disheveled.”
Violet groaned. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ve given up men.”
“That’s what I say about chocolate every day, but you’ll notice my hips aren’t getting any smaller.” The flicker of glee in Maisy’s expression gave Violet more than a flicker of apprehension. “I knew you liked guys with dark hair.”
Shower-damp strands tickled Violet’s neck and cheeks as she shook her head. “I don’t—and it’s not just the hair, remember? Sure, I can recognize certain dark-haired, fair-skinned members of the male species aren’t exactly difficult to look at. Doesn’t change the fact that they’re not my type.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Isla began to wiggle and fuss, and Violet sat her up and peered into her big blue eyes. Using two fingers, she formed a curl with the tuft of hair on top of her niece’s head. “You, on the other hand, rock the dark hair and ivory skin. Yes you do.” She kissed Isla’s plump cheek. “Mwah, mwah, mwah. Are you ready for lots of cuddling and cheek pinching? Maybe a late-night party where we drink way too much milk and crash out on the couch?”
Isla opened her mouth as if she had a ready response. She cooed, and Violet’s heart melted, along with the stress of the day. If she’d followed the first draft of her life plan, she’d have one, if not two kids by now. But every time she’d brought up the idea of a baby, Benjamin went with his famous “sure, someday” answer.
In this day and age, I don’t need a man to have a baby. Just his sperm, and I can get that without dating, so ha!
Naturally she’d want a donor who was big and strong and brave. Sorta like Ford the Firefighter, who’d charged in, known what to do, and been kind to her, even when she’d acted so irrational.
She highly doubted those type of guys frequented sperm banks. But before she ended up with a bullet-point plan and binder filled with possible names, baby gear, and nurseries she loved, she supposed she should get her life—namely her career—in order.
First, I’ll refill my creative well by helping Maisy decorate the bakery, and then I’ll see where I’m at and make a plan from there.
Violet placed her niece on her shoulder and snuggled her close, and in this moment, her life didn’t seem like such a mess. She was guilty of piling one bad thing on top of another until every setback weighed her down and crushed her spirits.
Being arrested during her lowest point certainly hadn’t helped, but that was another rearview-window item she hoped to leave in the dust.
Maisy propped her elbow on the back of the couch, and then tears brimmed her eyes. “I missed out, Vi. We could’ve had so much fun together when you stayed with us during the summers, but I was so pissed my dad had cheated on my mom and that we couldn’t just move on because…”
“Because of me,” Violet finished, her voice cracking.
“I’m afraid I was a selfish, horrible kid. I’d always wanted a sister, and then I had one, and instead of embracing you, I kept my distance.”
As children, it’d been hard not to compare. Maisy had a pert little nose, gorgeous blue eyes, and delicate eyebrows that didn’t need constant taming. She had Dad’s love in spades, and Violet remembered wondering what it would be like to have a full-time father who bragged about her over dinner, the way Dad did about Maisy and his son, Mason. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not. With Travis gone, our phone calls are the only reason I haven’t lost my mind. I love Isla, but the rest of my family is always busy as usual, and I miss adult conversation. I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you here.” A tear rolled down her cheek, and she swiped it away. “I’d like to try to make up for the time we lost and take a second shot at being sisters in the more classic definition.”
A lump formed in Violet’s throat. “Honestly, I’ve been lonely, too. I’d be happy to steal your Barbies and borrow your clothes without asking and…whatever else sisters do.”
Maisy laughed and gently hugged Violet, bringing Isla into the group hug as well. “Thank you for being here.”
Although Violet wanted to point out that she’d only brought calamity into her life, she decided now wasn’t the time for self-deprecation. While the inevitability of awkward run-ins with her father and his wife sent Violet’s nerves into riot mode, she focused on the affection that was flowing over her, slowly mending old wounds.
It was nice to feel like she had a sister, not simply because of shared DNA but by choice. Which made that “half” part of Maisy’s title unnecessary.
A sister and a niece, a place to stay, and a bakery to decorate.
The sense of purpose Violet had been missing as of late buoyed her up, giving her a much-needed dose of optimism, no positive spin required. Maybe one day in the not too distant future, she could manage to finally put the past where it belonged.