Page 96 of Mom Com

“Liv, no offense, but what are you doing here?” I ask, turning to face her. “It’s Christmas Day. Not that you’re not welcome, you always are, but what about Claudette? What about your family? Don’t you have a hundred cousins and aunts at your parents’ right now?”

“Claude is taking a nap. I swear that woman was a house cat in her last life. And my family?” She shakes her head. “I know I shouldn’t have just shown up here on a holiday... sorry about that, but I didn’t want you skipping town before I said my piece.”

I sigh in anxious resignation because her concern is legitimate; I’d been planning on leaving first thing, or at least that was the plan before I talked with my mom. I consider telling her as much when she puts her car in reverse.

“Hang on, where are we—”

“Nowhere,” she replies. “I just think better while driving.”

I nod because that actually works for me—keeps Spence from peering through the windows at us. She takes my nod as agreement and reverses onto the quiet street.

“I know showing up here is a little aggressive,” Liv starts. “And, I mean, aggressive is basically my MO, but I’m actually not trying to put you on the spot like you might think. I just couldn’t not come. Again. Like a bad repeat of ten years ago.”

For some reason, this startles me. “Liv... you were in college when I left.”

“Yeah, I know. But that shit with my brother went on for months.” She frowns at the memory as we cruise through the fading light that dapples the winter streets. “And... he used to call me about it, about what was happening between you two. My point is that I wasn’t blissfully unaware like you might have thought.”

I stare at her, unsure how to respond. Wilder is such a private person that it never occurred to me he might discuss the details of our relationship with his sister.

She shifts gears as we slow for a stop sign. “And in all my infinite teen wisdom, I thought that staying out of it was the best thing for you both.”

“I really don’t think there was anything you could have done,” I say, because I can hear the guilt in her voice and because if I were her, I probably would have stayed out of it, too.

“I could have called you,” she says. “I could have invited you up to Yale for a weekend, gotten you out of this place for a moment of fresh air. I mean, fuck, you were basically my younger sister. I think I liked you better than Wilder. And when I heard you left Haverberry, I thought you’d be back. But you never returned, and the time went so fast. All of a sudden, it felt impossible to reach out to you, like my absence was too big to apologize for.”

I look at my hands, remembering those early days in LA and how isolating they were. “I wasn’t mad at you.”

“Well, I’m mad at me. And I’ll be damned if I repeat that. So here I am on Christmas afternoon, pissing my mom off and leaving her scintillating mulled cocktail hour,” Liv rolls her eyes, “in order to make sure you’re okay.”

We hit a pothole at the end of Liv’s sentence, one of those crater-sized ones that shaves a couple of years off your life.

“Fucking New England potholes,” Liv breathes. “Going to give me an eye twitch.” She pats her steering wheel like she could comfort her poor car.

“All you can do is pray and clench your butt cheeks,” I offer, referring to both potholes and my present situation.

She laughs and the mood eases slightly, some of the tension being gobbled up by humor.

Until she says, “Here’s the thing... I’m not going to beat around the bush,” and I know without a doubt that this conversation just took the turn I feared. “I’m here for me, but I’m also here because I think you should talk to Wilder. Alone. Without my mother and Kate fucking things up. My God, do I wish I knew what was happening in that library last night.”

I stare out the window, tensing. “Liv, I don’t think—”

“I know Wilder screwed up. I know better than anyone, well, besides you that is. And I’m not making excuses for him. But I also think that you’re going to want to hear what he has to say. And that if you don’t, you’re always going to wonder if things might have been different.”

I give her the side-eye because I’m sure she’s aware that she’s speaking directly to my doubts. It’s no wonder she studied law—the entire bar-certified population probably wept when she changed professions. “Look, I get what you’re trying to do, but it’s just...”

She waits for me to find my words.

“I don’t trust him,” I reply. “I just don’t. And nothing he says is gonna change that.”

“Mads—”

“Liv,” I say, this time cutting her off. “I appreciate you coming to see me, and everything you said. You and I? We’re good. I’m glad you’re back in my life. But me and Wilder?” I shake my head. “He was engaged to Kate two weeks ago. I mean, if that doesn’t indicate that I shouldn’t get involved, I don’t know what does.”

She cringes a little. “Believe me, I know it all looks bad. But you also have to understand that Mama Buenaventura has made it her mission to curate his position as the male Buenaventura heir or something equally barbaric. And maybe I give him too much of a break on this one, but you remember our never-ending stream of nannies. Wilder wasn’t like me, he didn’t box up his heart and write fuck you on the flap, he was always trying to win Mom’s favor, make her proud so she’d notice him, and I don’t think he ever really unlearned that behavior. It took you coming along to—”

I cut her off, her words hitting me harder than she realizes. Because as a parent I see it differently than I did as a kid, and I don’t want my sympathy for the neglected child that Wilder was to draw me back in. “I get what you’re trying to do. I know you care about your brother and that you want what’s best for him. But truly, what’s best for both of us is to stop trying to patchwork something that fell apart years ago. We’ll just wind up hating each other.”

Liv opens her mouth, but I start speaking again before she can continue to pull at my heartstrings. “Now, as much as I love you, I do have to get back to the house. Jake is coming by soon to see Spence.”