He laughed again.
Not because it was funny.
Because he thought I was joking.
“Ellie, come on.”
“No.”
The word felt strange coming out of my mouth.
Small.
Simple.
Powerful.
“No,” I repeated.
The silence on the other end became heavier.
“Mom is going to be upset.”
“I understand.”
“Patrice is going to think you’re being selfish.”
“I understand.”
“And the kids will be disappointed.”
That one almost worked.
Almost.
Because I loved those kids.
But then I remembered something.
Children learn what adults teach them.
And I didn’t want Madison, Tyler, and June growing up believing that love meant one person always sacrificed while everyone else took.
“I love the kids,” I said. “But the answer is still no.”
Kevin’s voice changed.
The friendly brother disappeared.
“Wow.”
Just one word.
But I knew that tone.
The tone people use when you stop playing the role they assigned you.
