Free Thirty Sunsets by Christine Hurley Deriso Page B

baby, but still, if she wanted me along on your family trip, then she must think … ”
    “Right,” I say reassuringly. “You’re part of the family. And kudos to you for thinking that’s a good thing.”
    She doesn’t laugh.
    “Olivia,” I say firmly. “You’re family now.”
    She tosses me a grateful but unconvinced smile. We drive in silence for a couple of moments, then she says, “It wasn’t my idea for Brian to blow off Vandy, you know. I tried to talk him into going.”
    I swallow hard.
    She looks at me from the corner of her eye. “Is that why you hate me too? Hated me?”
    My hands fumble in my lap. “Of course not. Brian is responsible for his choices, not you.”
    “But his choice would have been Vandy if it hadn’t been for me. That’s what you think?”
    What do I say? Duh?
    “He’s been freaking out about college all year,” Olivia says. “He felt so much pressure to make his mother proud, to go to Vandy, to be a doctor … it broke my heart to see him so stressed. The first few months we were dating, he was breaking out in rashes, like, every other week. It’s only when he decided to stay home that he seemed like himself again. And he made that decision before I got pregnant, remember.”
    Yeah. I remember. And now that she mentions it, I remember the rashes too.
    “But he wanted to go to medical school,” I say.
    “He wanted to please your mom. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But, man, the guilt did such a number on him. It almost made me grateful I didn’t have a mom.”
    I peer at her. “Has she ever been in your life?”
    Olivia shrugs. “She shows up on our doorstep every few months to create drama for my dad. That’s all she cares about: making his life miserable. She doesn’t care anything about me.”
    I feel a stab in my heart to hear her sound so matter-of-fact.
    I stare out the passenger window and watch a blur of fuchsia crepe myrtle. “Why did she leave?” I ask.
    Olivia shrugs again. “A guy, I think. Or maybe a job. She was gonna be a model. I don’t remember ever living with her.” She laughs wryly. “Wouldn’t you think that would mean I wouldn’t miss her? I mean, if you grow up never remembering having your mom in your life, you shouldn’t miss her, right? It should be like ice cream: the only way you can miss it is if you remember what it tastes like. If you don’t remember, you don’t know what you’re missing. So you don’t miss it.”
    “But … you miss her .”
    Olivia’s expression darkens. “I hate her.”
    Wow. “You don’t mean that.”
    “I totally do. So when your mom hugged me when I told her I was pregnant and said everything was gonna be okay, then invited me to your beach house, I … ”
    Her eyes fill with tears.
    “Mom’s gonna be fine,” I tell her. “It’s just … she can’t go more than two weeks without filling her bitchy quota. It’s probably best you found out sooner rather than later. It’s the cross we all bear.”
    Olivia giggles through her tears. “I loved it when you called me Liv,” she says.
    I nod smartly. “Well, long Liv the queen. Just remember that Mom is the queen.”
    Her eyes sparkle. “Can I be the princess?”
    “God, yes. I look like crap in a tiara.”
    “So, what’s his name?”
    I look up quizzically from the drink I’m sipping. “Whose name?”
    Olivia dangles a fry outside her mouth. “The guy who’s gonna eat his heart out when he sees you in your new bikini.”
    I blush. “Oh. I dunno. Who cares.”
    Olivia nods sharply as kids zoom around the periphery of the fast-food restaurant. “Exactly. Yes, we want him to eat his heart out, but you have so moved on. That’s what lover boy needs to know. We need you walking on the beach holding hands with some hot new guy by sunset.”
    I laugh. “Yeah, hot guys and I go way back. I just snap my fingers and they magically appear.”
    “Oh, they’ll appear all right,” Olivia says. “Stick with me, girlfriend. We’ll