I Have Lived and I Have Loved - Willow Winters Page 0,6

and Ryan are in the same grade. You’re a senior, right?”

Miracles did happen, after all.

I nodded.

Peach’s eyes were narrowed on me, watching for a reaction. I kept my face straight, but I was doing somersaults inside.

Mrs. Jensen cleared her throat. “Your grandparents are going to arrive today. They’ll be picking you and your brother up and taking you back to the house . . . or . . . a hotel. I’m not sure where you’re going, actually, but I know they’re eager to see you.”

“Grams is coming?” Robbie’s head popped up.

I shot him a look. “Didn’t see that on the calendar, huh?”

He rolled his eyes, but one corner of his mouth lifted. He leaned back against his seat. “I can’t check everything.”

“What?” I teased him. “How is that possible?”

He shrugged, but anything he would’ve said was cut short.

Mrs. Jensen exuded a relieved and forced laugh. “Brian told me one of Phillip’s children was brilliant. That must be you, Robert.”

Robert. I almost scoffed at the name no one called him except Grams.

Mrs. Jensen kept going, leaning forward to beam at Robbie. “Portside has an advanced program for gifted children like yourself. I think you’ll really like it. I know sometimes the exceptional children can be outcast by their peers in other places, but rest assured—” Her voice was so cheery. “That isn’t the case in Portside.”

She paused, waiting for Robbie to say something.

He looked at her and then to me. His little hand fisted around a fork, and a tear welled up in his eyes. He looked away.

“Oh.” The corner of her mouth turned down. “Dear.”

Shit. It was time to do my big-sisterly duty. I coughed and scooted back my chair. “Thank you for breakfast, Mrs. Jensen.”

She had paled, but she tried to muster another smile for me. “Yes, well, you should thank Rose. She does most of our meals. We wouldn’t know what to do without her.” She turned toward Rose, who paused at the sink. “Right, Rose? The entire household would fall apart if it weren’t for you.”

“Yes, Mrs. Jensen. Yes.”

Mrs. Jensen laughed, and I tried not to wince at how fake it sounded. Her hand came to rest on her chest. “Well, I brought up school before because Peach is having a few of her friends over at the end of the week. If you wanted—”

Ryan groaned.

She showed no sign of hearing him. “—to come and meet some of them. Her friends are so well-behaved, and they’re good girls. They’re the type you’d want to be friends with. Right, Peach? You and your friends seem like the popular girls in your class, even though Mackenzie is a grade above you.”

“Mom!” She was horrified too. “Shut up.”

“Mom,” Ryan drawled. “She doesn’t want to hang out with strangers right now.”

“Mmmm?”

I could only sit there and watch this unfold in front of me. Mrs. Jensen seemed oblivious, sipping at her coffee as if it were an IV filled with morphine. I frowned, scanning the back of the kitchen for a hint that maybe she put something else in there besides coffee. Then I felt Robbie’s foot pressing into the top of my knee. He was pushed right up against the table, holding on as he stretched his leg all the way to me.

I thought I’d done my sisterly duty before, getting the attention off him, and I lifted an eyebrow at him.

He mouthed the word bathroom.

I nodded. “Can we be excused from the table?”

“We?” Mrs. Jensen looked from me to my brother. “Oh. Yes. Of course.” Her eyes fell to our plates. “Neither of you has eaten. Okay, Rose? Can we make sure there’s food left out in case they want to grab a bite later? We could order bagels if we don’t have any on hand.”

God. Bagels. I felt whiplash at that word.

“Willow, you aren’t hungry?”

My mom never knew. Right? It wasn’t that she didn’t want to know. Right?

“Well, we have bagels, Willow. Make sure to grab one, okay? You need to start the morning off right. Snack on it during the day if you need to.”

Tears threatened to spill, but nope, I would not cry. No way.

Robbie’s chair scraped against the floor. He pushed it back and stood there, a look of surprise on his face, as if he didn’t realize what he’d done. “Um . . .” His mouth opened—nothing. It closed. Then opened. Still nothing.

I said softly, “Bathroom.”

“Oh yeah.” He darted around the table, around Ryan, and hurried up the stairs.

Another uncomfortable silence descended.

I looked down