My Darling Jane (The Darlings)

Earlier in the evening . . .

I glance around the apartment and pause to take in the place Londyn and I now call home. The two-bedroom apartment we share with my brother, Andrew, a brief walk from the bookstore, is a world away from the spacious apartment where we all once lived with Emmy. She’s living at Wickham now with Graham. After much debate, the three of us siblings sold the place where we grew up and divided the money between us. It’s what I used to start my business.

The living room flows into a tiny kitchen. Our dining area is simple, just a bay window with a round table, enough for the three of us.

Down the hall, Londyn’s wicker daybed, draped with soft pink netting, is tucked into a corner of the biggest bedroom, one we share. Her stuffed animals and favorite books are neatly arranged on shelves, while her drawings decorate the walls.

My bed is opposite hers, a rustic metal frame, joined by a nightstand that holds a lamp and a stack of my current reads. Between our beds, a cute braided rug adds warmth to the hardwood floor.

Londyn takes off her shoes in a flash, then makes a run for her toys in the living room while I change into gray joggers and a baggy black T-shirt. Off goes the strapless bra, not that I really need one with my A cup. I adjust the toga and its accessories on a hanger and place it inside an antique bureau, one of the pieces of furniture that belonged to my gran. My lashes flutter as I glare at the toga. It’s truly hideous. Whatever. I’ll try again tomorrow.

I crank up the Cranberries’ music and set the table for dinner. Londyn requested pancakes and eggs, and I have everything in the cabinets and fridge. I’m just ladling the first scoop of batter over a hot skillet when Andrew bursts through the door. “Jane! Your best brother is home!”

“My only brother,” I call back.

“Hey, little genius!” he says as he sweeps inside the living room with a wide grin, scooping Londyn into his arms. He ruffles her flyaway blond hair as she giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck.

My brother, a year younger than me, is all charm. At 6 feet, he stands a quarter inch shy of my model-like height—a detail I love to remind him of. His hair, a cascade of dark strands, falls over his eyes.

“Dinner’s ready!” I say, placing the food on the table. We gather around, ready to dig in.

Andrew, armed with his fork, is about to attack his stack of pancakes when Londyn, seated in her booster chair, beams at him. “Uncle Andrew, guess what!” she says, her small hands barely containing her enthusiasm. “I go potty ten times at preschool! Ten!”

Suppressing a laugh, I watch as she proudly holds up ten fingers.

Andrew halts, eyes widening. “Whoa. That’s some serious business, Captain Pisser!”

I shoot him a look. “Let’s not teach her ‘pisser.’”

Londyn, missing the memo, echoes, “I’m a good pisser! My teacher loves me!”

Andrew grins. “A potty hero! The best little pisser in Manhattan.”

“I also drawed a house,” Londyn adds, chomping on her egg.

“Oh? Do tell,” I say.

“It’s big, with a purple door, and a slide from the window to a yard with toys.”

Andrew chuckles. “Do I get my own room?”

Londyn nods seriously. “In the kitchen. For sandmaches.”

I can’t help but snort. Andrew’s culinary skills are limited to sandwich artistry, which is why he only cooks twice a week. “The master chef at work,” I tease.

Londyn’s hands dance as she describes her dream house. “There’s flowers, butterflies, and a big tree for climbing!”

Andrew winks at her. “And two potties, right, Captain Pisser?”

“Two,” she confirms.

“We have two potties here,” I remind her.

“But no slide,” Andrew points out.

Londyn looks at me, serious. “Yeah, Mommy, no slide.”

“Hmm,” Andrew says, “we’re on the tenth floor, so a slide isn’t feasible, but it would still be awesome.”

She squirms, her attention distracted. “Okay. I gotta pee now!”

I offer help, but she’s fiercely independent. “I do it myself!”

“Call if you need me,” I remind her.

“I won’t!” she shouts back, scampering toward the bathroom.

“Don’t forget to wash your hands, Captain Pisser,” Andrew tells her as she disappears.

Being quiet so she won’t hear me, I stand in the hallway, my ear tuned to the sounds coming from the bathroom, ready to leap into action. As I wait, the stress and anxiety of my day ebb away, replaced by gratitude. I close my eyes briefly, sending a silent prayer of thanks for these tiny moments. The way her eyes light up when she talks about her day fills the spaces in my heart that worry and doubt usually occupy.

As I hear the sound of the toilet flushing and Londyn’s little feet padding on the floor, I dart back to the kitchen table.

Postdinner cleanup is in full swing with Andrew on dish duty and me attacking the counters. I’ve just finished regaling him with my Carson’s-bar escapade, conveniently omitting the Jasper cameo.

Andrew shakes his head, chuckling. “Seriously, if you need more guys, I’m your man.”

“You don’t quite fit the business model.” He’s still in college and works part time.

He hums, then, “All right, instead of dressing up like a moron, try activities, like Rolling Romance Night. Speed dating on roller skates. Genius, yeah?”

I raise an eyebrow. “So they literally roll into love?”

He gives me a fist bump. “And if they fall? Perfect metaphor.”

I shake my head. “You, raised by women, have turned into the king of cheese.”

He grins, unabashed. “Women love it, sis. Cheese is my middle name. Okay, next idea: Puppy Love Night at the bookstore. Bring your pet and find your human match.”

I put away a plate. “That’s . . . actually not the worst.”

“Told you I’m a genius.” He dodges as I hip check him. “Want more?”

“Hit me,” I say, leaning against the counter.

He tilts his head, thinking. “Love in the Dark. Blindfolded convos. Pure personality connection, no looks.”

I roll my eyes as I put the skillet back in the drawer. “Okay, that’s enough to think on. I need to go check on Londyn.”

“Wait a second. There’s actually something else I wanted . . .” He frowns, chewing on his lip.

“What?”

He opens his mouth as a hesitant expression flashes over his face. “Uh . . .”

Londyn comes in and wants him to play with her, and the moment is lost.

Later, she tugs at my hand, signaling it’s story time. I settle beside her on the bed, opening Goodnight Moon. As I read, her eyes grow heavy, her breathing slows. When she’s asleep, I close the door, the soft click barely audible.

Andrew’s pacing in the hallway immediately sets off alarms in my head. His face appears troubled.

“What’s up?” I ask, unease brewing inside.

He halts, facing me with a seriousness that’s rare for him. “I gotta tell you something. I wanted to earlier, but thought I’d wait until Londyn was asleep.”

I give a nod, a silent go-ahead.

He inhales sharply. “I’m moving out. Found this co-op near campus with a couple of guys. It’s practical for school and all.”

A knot forms in my gut. “Oh,” I say, my voice flat. “When?”

“In a few weeks. Don’t worry, I’ll still pay for next month’s rent.”

That’s sweet of him, but it isn’t about the rent. It’s about no more of his easy laughter and wacky sandwiches. First Gran died, then Emmy left, and now it’s his turn. And before that it was Tomas. And before anyone, it was my mother. She left me when I was a toddler for Emmy and Gran to raise. Everyone leaves, eventually.

I muster a smile. “That’s . . . that’s great, Andrew.”

His face shows excitement, but I see the guilt there too. “I’m sorry, really. I know you depend on me for a lot, and I can still do things for you and Londyn. We’ll get together, and I’ll see you at the bookstore when I have a shift.”

I nod. “Sure.” It’s not just the thought of his absence that stings—it’s the echo of past abandonment. Tomas’s shadow follows me no matter what.

And now, watching Andrew, I can’t shake the feeling of déjà vu.

Is my reliance on him pushing him away?

The thought that I might be a burden to Andrew, too, makes me cringe. He assured me his departure is just a change in living arrangements, but I’m scared I’m too much.

We are too much.

“Yeah. I totally get it. We’ll be fine. Your sandwiches suck anyway. We’ll get takeout on those nights.”

He smirks. “You always eat every bite. Even when I put spinach in with the turkey club.” He pauses. “I’m not abandoning you, sis. I know what it feels like, too, you know. Mom left us both, but I’ll only be a few blocks away.”

I dip my head. He was always good at reading my thoughts. “I know, I do, really. You aren’t Mom or Tomas. You’re my brother that I adore. You’re an adult, and of course you want to be closer to school and hang out with your buddies. Ass.” I pretend to glare at him and cross my arms.

“Ah, there she is.” He grins and picks me up off the ground for a quick hug.

He heads off to shower, leaving me in the hallway, the silence enveloping me.

The apartment feels emptier already. Tears prick my eyes, but I shove them away.