Fed Up

I groan, and make sure they see me rolling my eyes. “You two are ridiculous. It’s a sweater. Can we stop with the grand inquisition?”

“That’s not a no,” she says.

“It’s time to open presents,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Let’s get everyone into the living room.”

I have met someone, and that’s great. But it’s frustrating to no end that they think I wasn’t happy before. I was happy. I was fine. I don’t need to be married to feel completed. The boys have transformed the living room so everyone has room to sit. The couch has been pushed back against my bedroom doors, chairs from the dining room brought in so that there’s a giant circle.

I take the armchair that’s been pressed up against the window, and I notice that Trevor takes the space across from me in the circle. It’s the first time he’s seen me dressed today, and I watch his gaze slide slowly down my body and return. He gives me a slow nod and a smile, and a warm glow takes up residence in my stomach, all my annoyance at my sisters d