Chapter 5

FIVE

Dee

Dee entered Sissy's house through the open side door and followed the noise and chatter to where the party was. She hadn't gone to many Crescentings before so she wasn't entirely sure what to expect but she knew there would be food and games.

And Clarissa.

She couldn't say she was particularly looking forward to seeing her again but she promised Sissy she would be on her best behaviour and she intended to honour it.

It wasn't a surprise that a lot of people had shown up. Sissy was always the outgoing of the two and made and retained friends easily. There were people everywhere taking up the couch, chairs, and side tables. And in the centre of it all, Sissy, glowing from the attention and motherhood.

"Dee!" Sissy waved her over and pulled her into a hug. She was glowing, both from the attention and motherhood. It was a lovely sight to see.

"Where's my favourite nephew?" she asked, glancing around for little Michael. A cute baby like him would be passed around like a bong at a party.

"Right here," a familiar voice said.

Dee turned around and found herself staring at a beaming Clarissa. She was holding Michael in her arms, bouncing him gently up and down to keep him calm and quiet.

"Foster. We meet again," Dee said, cringing at her greeting. Who did she think she was, some super villain?

Amusement sparked in Clarissa's blue eyes. "Lewis."

"Can I have my nephew, please?" she asked, holding her hands out. For a moment, she thought Clarissa was going to say something clever but she handed Michael over without another word.

Dee pressed kisses on his fat cheeks, causing him to laugh. He babbled incoherently and melted her with just a smile. This was why she preferred babies over people. They were easy and uncomplicated, unlike adults. And it didn't hurt that they were adorable and cute.

She swayed him a little and adjusted his shirt. It had a little bear on it that looked a lot like Sissy's shifter form. Depending on his genes, little Michael might discover in his teens he was a bear shifter himself.

When Dee looked up, she found Clarissa staring at her with a weird smile.

"What?" Dee asked.

"So you can smile," Clarissa said in a teasing tone.

Dee wasn't sure what to say to that. She knew she had a resting bitch face on a good day and her current bout of painter's block made things even worse. And she just didn't like Clarissa Foster, there was that.

"I don't owe anyone a smile," she said eventually.

"No, you don't," Clarissa agreed, picking up a biscuit with frosting. "But it is a lovely smile."

The genuineness of the statement took Dee aback. She hadn't done anything to evoke kind feelings in the other artist or warrant compliments. Not sure what to say, she turned her attention back to her nephew. He was blowing bubbles of spit and looked in his element from all the attention. In that respect, he clearly took after his mother.

She glanced up and realised Clarissa was still there, looking at her with half a smile. It was slightly uncomfortable, mostly because Dee didn't know what to say.

"So, trivia, huh?" Dee said in a feeble attempt to make conversation.

"There's a weekly game night in the pub," Clarissa said. "We're actually pretty good. We win regularly."

"And what do you win?"

"Free beer for the team. Glass of wine if they're feeling generous."

Dee's eyebrows raised. "Aha. How cliché. I'm guessing you have a lame team name, too?"

"The Trivia Musketeers."

" The Trivia Musketeers ..."

"It's a pun," Clarissa said with that cheeky grin of hers.

"I got that, believe it or not. I'll reserve my thoughts because I happen to like Asim."

A twinkle appeared in Clarissa's eyes. "You should join us sometime. It's fun."

Dee couldn't think of anything worse than spending a night in a pub with strangers and feeling humiliated when she didn't know the answer.

"I'll pass, thank you," she said curtly.

"Really? That's a shame." Clarissa hesitated for a moment, like she had something important she wanted to say or ask. "Would you like to grab a coffee sometime? Maybe? To kind of catch up?"

Before Dee could reply, a loud bang came from the kitchen and Michael burst into tears. Almost instantly, Dee was swarmed with women trying to soothe her nephew. It overwhelmed her and the baby, causing him to cry even harder. She turned around to hand him back to her sister but Sissy was no longer on the couch.

"Just give them some space," Clarissa said, ushering the crowd away with an unusually firm voice.

Dee shot her a grateful smile while she kept soothing her nephew, not that it helped. Luckily, his crying summoned Sissy who arrived with her arms wide open.

"Can't even have a moment to pee in peace, can I?" she said as she took her baby. He nestled his head against her chest and like magic, stopped crying but his eyes remained wide open. Sissy stroked his head gently, clearly completely besotted with him. "Maybe it's time for a nap."

"I don't know how she does that," Dee mused, mostly to herself. "Maybe it comes automatically with motherhood."

Clarissa let out a light scoff. "Trust me, it doesn't." She said it with such conviction, it could only come from first-hand experience.

"Do you, umm...?" Dee wasn't quite sure how to ask. "Do you have kids?"

"God, no. But my mother was cold and frigid and walked out on us when I was still a child so it definitely doesn't come automatically with motherhood." The bitterness in Clarissa's voice was palpable.

Dee sucked in her lips. "Sorry, I didn't know that."

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she said before walking away without another word.

Guilt gnawed at Dee. She didn't understand how she hadn't noticed there was no Mrs Foster. She spent hours at the craft store, testing out pens and paints, asking a hundred questions about the brand, the make, the inks. It was the kind of thing that wouldn't have been possible anywhere else but he always patiently answered everything. Back then, she vaguely remembered thinking she hadn't met Mrs Foster but she never knew the woman just left.

She never bothered to ask. Either of them. She'd never really treated them as real people. In her mind, Mr Foster was just a nice man and Clarissa her rival, her competition.

As a child, that was excusable. But as an adult, she should've known better.