She Has His Eyes, and He’s Marrying My Stepsister Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Two Babies

was out of his bed before he could reach for me.

“Wren. Wren, listen to me–”

“Don’t touch me.” I was yanking on my jeans with shaking hands. “Oh God. Oh my God. I’m so stupid.”

“I never touched her.” His voice cracked. “I have never touched her. Not once.”

“You’re engaged to her!”

“On paper! For a merger!” He grabbed my wrist, gently. “Look at me. In a year of engagement, I have never kissed her Never slept in the same building as her. Ask my security. Ask my driver. I’ll give you every record I have.”

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to believe him.

But five years ago, I’d believed a text message. And it had nearly destroyed me.

“I need to think,” I whispered. “Alone.”

I took Ivy and went to Maya’s apartment. I turned off my phone. I stared at the ceiling all day.

On Sunday, my mother called Maya’s phone. She was crying.

“Wren, please. It’s my birthday. I want my whole family together. Just this once. For me.”

I didn’t want to go. But she was my mother. And some stupid part of me still hoped she’d love me the way she loved Sloane.

So I went. I dressed Ivy in her best blue dress, and we walked into my mother’s house holding hands.

The first thing my mother did was slap me.

Right across the face. In front of everyone. In front of my daughter.

“That’s for what you did to your sister,” she hissed. “Now go sit down and smile.”

Ivy started crying. Grant shot up from the couch. “Mom, what the hell?”

“Stay out of this, Grant.”

My cheek burned. But it didn’t hurt as much as the way Sloane smiled from across the room. One hand on her flat stomach. The other holding a glass of sparkling cider.

“So glad you came, sis,” she said.

I sat in the corner and held Ivy in my lap. I counted the minutes until I could leave.

Then Sloane walked over with a plate of cookies.

“Hi, Ivy,” she said in a soft, sweet voice. “Do you want a cookie? I made them just for you.”

Ivy looked at me. I didn’t trust it. But it was my mother’s house, and everyone was watching, and Grant was standing right there.

“What kind?” I asked.

“Sugar cookies. Plain.” Sloane smiled. “I know she’s a picky eater.”

Ivy took one. Nibbled it. “It’s good,” she said politely..

Sloane walked away.

I relaxed. Maybe she was trying. Maybe, for my mother’s sake, she’d-

“Mommy?”

Ivy’s voice was strange. Small. Raspy.

I looked down. Her lips were swelling. Red blotches were spreading up her neck like fire.

“Mommy, my throat feels funny.”

My heart stopped dead in my chest.

Ivy had a peanut allergy. A severe one, Everyone in my family knew. Everyone.

“Grant!” I screamed. “My bag! Her EpiPen! NOW!”

Ivy was clawing at her throat. Her breathing was turning into a horrible wheezing sound. Her lips were turning blue.

I tore through my purse. Wallet. Keys. Tissues.

The EpiPen wasn’t there.

I’d checked it this morning. I knew I’d checked it.

Across the room, Sloane was standing by the window. Watching. Not moving.

And in my daughter’s tiny hand, the half-eaten cookie crumbled.

It smelled like peanut butter.