Page 50 of Unwrapped

“And here you are, having your perfect little Christmas without me.”

A creak on the stairs interrupts us, and Sophie comes down, dressed and with her hair brushed back into a ponytail. But there’s a telltale flush on her cheeks. Her lips are red and swollen. I wonder if Elena could notice what I see—that her daughter looks freshly fucked.

Here’s my wife, and there's her daughter. Seeing them in the same room brings everything I've been trying not to think about crashing down on me.

Jesus Christ. What have I done?

“Mom.” Sophie’s voice is quiet and wary. “Hi.”

“Baby!” Elena’s entire demeanor transforms. The anger evaporates. She crosses the room in three strides and pulls Sophie into a hug, burying her face in Sophie’s hair. “Oh my God, look at you. You’re so beautiful. I’ve missed you so much.”

Sophie stands stiffly in the embrace, her arms at her sides, then lifts them uncertainly to pat Elena’s back. “I’ve missed you too,” she says.

Elena holds her at arm’s length, studying her face with performative intensity. “Have you lost weight? You look thin. Are you eating? College food is terrible, I know, but you have to take care of yourself.”

“I’m eating fine, Mom.”

“Good. That’s good.” Elena smooths Sophie’s hair, tucks a strand behind her ear, and the gesture is so maternal it almost disguises what comes next. “Although a phone call once in a while wouldn’t kill you. I’ve been worried sick. You never call. Christmas comes and goes and I don’t hear a word from my own daughter.” Her voice wavers, the hurt sliding in beneath the affection. “I thought about you all day, you know. Wondering what you were doing. If you were thinking about me.”

I watch Sophie’s face. “I texted you on Christmas Eve,” she says. “You didn’t answer.”

“I was busy.” Elena waves this away. “Julian and I had plans. But you could have made time. Christmas is for family, Sophie. Or it used to be.”

This is textbook. Elena hasn’t seen Sophie once in the past two years, but now, standing in the living room of the house she abandoned Sophie in, she’s acting hurt that Sophie didn’t orchestrate a reunion Elena herself never proposed.

“It’s not like you invited me,” Sophie says, and I feel a surge of pride. Good girl.

Elena’s expression falters. For a second, she looks genuinely confused, then the hurt resurfaces, thicker now. “So I have to invite you? Is that how it works now? I’m your mother, Sophie. I shouldn’t have to send you a formal invitation to spend time with me.”

“Mom,” Sophie says carefully. “But you can’t just show up and act like I’ve been ignoring you when you’re the one who⁠—“

“When I’m the one who what? Made a difficult choice? Tried to be happy? God forbid.” She laughs bitterly. “Meanwhile, you two are having a perfect little Christmas without me, aren’t you?” She gestures around the living room. “Everything exactly the way you want it. No room for me. No thought for me.”

“Mom, that’s not fair.” Sophie’s voice cracks. “You never asked⁠—“

“I shouldn’t have to ask!” Elena cuts her off. “I’m your mother. I should be included automatically. Without having to beg.”

“Elena.” I step forward. “Let’s keep the conversation focused.”

“Don’t you dare.” She whirls on me. “Don’t you stand there acting like this has nothing to do with you. You’ve spent two years poisoning her against me. Turning her into this—this stranger who can’t even be bothered to call her mother on Christmas.”

“Mom, that’s not true,” Sophie protests. “Vince has never said a bad word about you. Not once.”

Which is true. I’ve never badmouthed Elena to Sophie. I didn’t have to. Elena’s absence spoke for itself.

“Oh, please.” She turns to Sophie, and her voice softens again, the anger giving way to something that almost sounds like concern. “Baby, I know you’re attached to him. I understand that. But he’s not your father. He’s my husband. Or he was. And the way he’s handling this divorce—the way he’s trying to cut me out—it’s not right. It’s not fair.”

She’s trying to enlist Sophie. Dragging her into the financial dispute, using their relationship as leverage. I’ve seen her do this before. If you can’t win on the merits, change the subject to loyalty.

“Elena.” My voice comes out harder than I intended. “Leave Sophie out of this.”

“See?” She points at me. “There you go again, acting like you're the only person who cares about Sophie. I'm her mother, Vince. You seem to have forgotten that.”

Elena has never liked the relationship Sophie and I developed after she left. She seems to regard it as something I've taken from her, rather than something Sophie and I built after she was abandoned by Elena. Normally, I'd dismiss her resentment, but today, I can't. Whatever Elena's motives, she's reminding me of a responsibility I've managed to lose sight of.

But I have to stay focused or Elena will have me arguing in circles in no time.

“This is about boundaries,” I say firmly. “Our divorce is between us. Sophie doesn’t belong in the middle of it.”