Chapter 2
Mom called twenty-seven times.
I know because I counted the missed calls.
Jason called eleven.
Stephanie called twice.
Her restraint made me like her more.
I left my phone on silent and ordered another iced coffee.
Then a message appeared from Mom.
YOU HAVE GONE TOO FAR.
I stared at it.
That sentence almost worked.
My stomach tightened.
My brain immediately began listing solutions.
I could call a nearby hotel.
I could authorize the building manager to let them into my apartment.
I could pay for emergency childcare.
I could even fly home.
Years of conditioning do not disappear because you change one lock.
Then another message came.
Your niece and nephews are standing outside in the cold because of you.
That one hit harder.
Denver in December was cold.
But I reminded myself of something important.
Their parents were standing there too.
The children had not appeared at my door alone.
Jason owned a house thirty minutes away.
Mom lived forty minutes away.
Nobody was homeless.
Nobody was stranded.
They were inconvenienced.
There was a difference.
I typed:
Jason and Stephanie have a home. You also have a home. Please take the children somewhere warm.
I sent it.
Mom replied instantly.
THEY ARE SUPPOSED TO BE ON THEIR WAY TO THE CABIN.
I wrote:
Then you babysit.
No response.
Five minutes later, Jason called again.
This time, I answered.
“Riley.”
His voice was tight.
“Hi.”
“What the hell?”
“Which part?”
“You knew Mom told us you were taking the kids.”
“And I texted you directly telling you I wasn’t.”
“You sent that two weeks ago.”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“We thought you were just upset.”
I actually laughed.
“Jason, I wrote, ‘I will not be babysitting. I will not be home.’ What part sounded temporary?”
“Mom said you would calm down.”
There it was.
Not misunderstanding.
They had received my answer.
They simply believed Mom could override it.
“So why did you come?”
“Because she said she'd handle you.”
I stared across the pool.
“Handle me?”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I think I finally do.”
He exhaled.
“Can you just give us the door code or call your manager?”
“No.”
“Riley.”
“My apartment is not a daycare.”
“We only need somewhere to leave the kids until you get back.”
I sat up.
“What?”
He went quiet.
I repeated:
“You were planning to leave three children inside my apartment without me?”
“No.”
“That is literally what you just said.”
“We thought maybe your flight was tomorrow.”
“You didn't know where I was.”
“Mom said—”
“Stop.”
My voice sharpened.
“Stop saying Mom said.”
Silence.
“You are thirty-six years old. You are their father. Stephanie is their mother. You received my message personally.”
Jason sighed.
“The cabin is nonrefundable.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“It cost almost four thousand dollars.”
“That is also unfortunate.”
He lowered his voice.
“Stephanie has been looking forward to this for months.”
“Then you should have confirmed childcare before paying.”
“We trusted Mom.”
“And now you're angry at me because that was a mistake?”
He didn't answer.
Behind him, I heard Oliver asking if they could get hot chocolate.
Then Mom's voice.
“Give me the phone.”
Jason said something muffled.
Then Mom came on.
“Riley Morgan.”
Full name.
Danger.
I almost smiled.
“Yes?”
“You are acting like a spoiled child.”
I looked around the resort.
Palm trees.
Ocean.
Adults quietly reading.
I felt remarkably adult.
“You broke into my building with a key I gave you for emergencies.”
“I did not break in.”
“You tried to unlock my apartment after I explicitly told everyone I would not be there.”
“I am your mother.”
“That does not make my apartment yours.”
Her voice rose.
“I have had that key for six years!”
“And you no longer do.”
“Because you've become paranoid.”
“No.”
I stayed calm.
“Because an emergency key is for emergencies. Not for overriding me.”
“This is an emergency.”
“No. This is poor planning.”
She gasped.
“You are unbelievable.”
“Mom, where are the kids right now?”
Silence.
“Still outside?”
“No.”
“Where?”
“In the lobby.”
“Good.”
“Security told us we need to leave.”
I nearly laughed.
Of course they did.
My building had strict guest policies.
Mom continued.
“You embarrassed me in front of those people.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“This is about embarrassment.”
“No, it is about family.”
“Then take your grandchildren home with you.”
Another pause.
“I have plans.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
“What plans?”
“Your father and I are hosting Christmas Eve.”
“So?”
“I cannot watch three children and prepare everything.”
“You expected me to watch them and meet client deadlines.”
“That is different.”
“How?”
“You don't have a family.”
The sentence landed harder than she probably expected.
I stopped breathing for a second.
Mom seemed to realize it.
“I mean children.”
“No.”
My voice went quiet.
“You said what you meant.”
“Riley.”
“You believe my time is less valuable because I'm single.”
“That is not what I said.”
“It is exactly what you said.”
She started talking quickly.
“You have freedom. Jason doesn't. He has responsibilities.”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“Responsibilities he chose.”
“Children are not some punishment!”
“I never said they were.”
“You're being selfish.”
I looked at my drink.
Maybe I was.
Maybe selfishness was occasionally necessary when everyone else expected self-erasure.
“Okay.”
Mom went silent.
“What?”
“Okay. I'm selfish.”
“You're admitting it?”
“No.”
I smiled sadly.
“I'm telling you that word doesn't work on me today.”
She hung up.
I sat there shaking.
Not because she yelled.
Because I didn't give in.
It felt like breaking a law.
Ten minutes later, Stephanie texted.
I'm sorry.
I stared.
Then:
I honestly believed your mom when she said you changed your mind.
I typed:
You received my message.
Three dots appeared.
Stopped.
Then:
I know.
That answer mattered.
She continued.
I should have called you directly.
Yes.
I'm really sorry.
I breathed.
Where are you?
Jason is driving us back home. We canceled the cabin.
I felt relief.
Not satisfaction.
I didn't want their vacation ruined.
I just didn't want to be forced into paying for it with my time.
I typed:
I'm sorry the trip didn't work out.
She replied:
This is not your fault.
Then:
Jason is angry. Your mom is furious. I think they both know you're right.
I stared at that for a long time.
Maybe Stephanie wasn't innocent.
But she was at least looking at the situation honestly.
That evening, I ate dinner overlooking the beach.
My phone stayed quiet.
Then Aunt Carol messaged.
Your mother called me.
Of course she did.
I braced myself.
She says you abandoned babies on Christmas.
I laughed out loud.
Then another message.
I told her babies usually come with parents.
I nearly choked on my drink.
Carol continued.
Good for you.
That surprised me.
I wrote:
Seriously?
She replied:
Your mother volunteered me to host twelve people last Easter. I had pneumonia.
I stared.
Suddenly, I wondered how many people Mom had volunteered over the years.
How many of us thought we were the only difficult one.
Carol wrote:
Enjoy Nassau. Turn your phone off.
I took her advice.
For the next two days, I swam.
Read.
Worked only one hour each morning because I genuinely wanted to.
Had dinner alone without feeling lonely.
Nobody asked me to cut food for a child.
Nobody asked me to run errands.
Nobody announced my availability.
Christmas morning, I woke to a video from Emma.
Aunt Riley, Grandma says you're in the Bahamas. Did you see a dolphin?
I smiled.
I called Jason's house.
Stephanie answered.
Emma screamed when she saw me.
We talked about fish.
Oliver showed me a toy truck.
Sky stared at the screen and drooled.
Then Jason appeared.
Awkward.
“Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“Mom isn't here.”
“I didn't ask.”
“I know.”
Silence.
Then:
“I owe you an apology.”
I waited.
“I should've called after your text.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Mom knew you better.”
I laughed softly.
“She does.”
He looked confused.
“That’s the problem.”
He understood.
Then his face tightened.
“I still wish you had just helped.”
There it was.
Honesty.
“I'm sure you do.”
“But I know you didn't have to.”
“Thank you.”
He nodded.
Before hanging up, he said:
“Mom is planning some kind of family meeting when you get back.”
I laughed.
“Of course she is.”
“She says you've changed.”
“I have.”
“That might not be bad.”
For the first time, I smiled genuinely at my brother.
“Maybe not.”
Then Stephanie leaned into frame.
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“Your mom told us something yesterday.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Stephanie looked uncomfortable.
“She said you've been taking advantage of them financially for years.”
I almost laughed.
“What?”
Jason looked equally confused.
“She said Dad helped fund your business.”
My chest went cold.
“He did not.”
“She said your apartment deposit came from them.”
“No.”
“And that they paid off your student loans.”
I stared.
“That is completely false.”
Jason frowned.
“That's what I thought.”
Something shifted inside me.
This was no longer about babysitting.
Mom was rewriting my entire adult life.
Why?
Then Jason said:
“She also told Dad you promised to repay them thirty thousand dollars.”
I stopped breathing.
“I never borrowed thirty thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
“Where did she get that number?”
Jason hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Then:
“But Dad says he wants to talk to you before the family meeting.”
My chest tightened.
“What about?”
Jason looked toward Stephanie.
Then back at me.
“He found transfers from their savings account.”
“To me?”
“No.”
May you like
His voice lowered.
“To an account with your name on it.”
