when there was nothing they could do.
“Our folks, Nikki,” Steph said sharply.
Oops. I’d forgotten. It was about fourteen years too late, but I was trying to train myself to think of the Glasses as my parents. Despite all the warmth and love they’d shown me, I’d always managed to keep a little bit of distance between us. It wasn’t like I was trying to do it. It just sort of happened. I didn’t feel like I was really their daughter, no matter what the adoption papers said. I think my insistence on referring to them as Steph’s parents had been bugging her for a long time, but it was out in the open now.
“Our folks,” I repeated meekly. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to get myself to call them Mom and Dad, but I could at least take a couple of baby steps. “Have you called them yet?”
“No,” she said in a small voice, and I knew she was about to cry again. “I don’t know how—” She couldn’t finish the sentence, her voice breaking in a sob.
“I’ll do it,” I told her, though it was going to be hell. Who likes breaking that kind of news to people they loved? And I did love the Glasses, even if I didn’t truly think of them as my parents. But I could give them the news without bursting into tears, and I doubted Steph could.
“You don’t have to,” Steph managed to choke out, but I heard the hope in her voice.
“I’ll do it,” I repeated. “You shouldn’t have to make this phone call more than once.”
“And you can stay calm, cool, and collected when you tell them.”
I was pretty sure there was a hint of censure in those words, but I chose to ignore it. I was never going to be as open and demonstrative as Steph was, and I refused to apologize for it.
“Why don’t you come over when we get off the phone,” I suggested. “Neither one of us is going to get any more sleep tonight. We have several industrial-sized tubs of ice cream in the freezer. Maybe you and I can demolish one together.”
Steph thought about it briefly, then let out a shuddering sigh. “Okay. I’ll be there in about forty minutes.”
Dreading what I had to do next, I hung up the phone.
The phone call with the Glasses was every bit as excruciating as I expected. My adoptive mother’s heartbroken sobs would haunt me for a long time. I wished I could give her a hug, but she was halfway around the world, and I wouldn’t be hugging her anytime soon. At least Mr. Glass was there so she could cry on his shoulder. He’s the stereotypical stoic male, and though the news had to have hit him hard, he kept himself together. I hoped that when he and Mrs. Glass were alone together and he didn’t feel like he had to put up a brave front for me, he would take comfort from her as well as give it.
“I don’t know how soon we’ll be able to get home,” he said. There was just a hint of hoarseness in his voice, betraying the emotions he was trying to repress. “Even if we get on the next flight, it’ll take a couple of days.”
“There’s no need for you to cut your trip short,” I said, and my motives in saying so weren’t entirely pure. No, I didn’t want them to miss out on whatever exciting destinations were still on their itinerary, but I also hadn’t yet figured out what the hell I was going to tell them about what was going on in my life. I’d talked to them a couple of times since I’d become Liberi, but I hadn’t told them much of anything. How I was going to explain that I was now living in a mansion with seven other people was beyond me. Especially when I insisted on holding on to the condo the Glasses had bought for me. (They’d bought it for me as a gift, but I insisted on paying rent. My baggage made it hard for me to accept money or gifts from them.)
“Steph and I can take care of anything that needs doing until you get back,” I continued, crossing my fingers that he’d find my argument sound.
Mr. Glass sighed heavily. “We’re not going to be in any mood for sightseeing or even relaxing after this. We might as well come home.”
I had to agree that I wouldn’t