Becca walked in, looked at me, and said, “You know what would help you? A little routine. If you showered and got dressed every morning, you’d probably feel more like yourself.”
I stared at her.
“Then why are we eating oatmeal?”
Becca’s eyebrows lifted. “What?”
Thomas muttered, “Becca, stop, please.”
She ignored him. “I’m just saying, motherhood isn’t a free pass to let yourself go.”
I looked down at Spencer, who had milk on his chin.
“I had surgery just days ago, Becca.”
“And I had three natural births,” she replied. “Women bounce back differently, sure. But it helps if you don’t make yourself a victim.”
That line stayed with me all day. Not because it was wise, but because it was so casually cruel.
‘Becca, stop, please.’
By afternoon, she was calling from the tub.
“Talia? Do you have that eucalyptus bath stuff? And can you chill me a Chardonnay?”
I was making plain pasta because Matthew had already announced, “And no spicy food this time.”
Thomas reached for the wine bottle. “I’ll do it.”
“No,” I said. “I’ve got it.”
He lowered his voice. “You need to sit.”
“I will. I’ll rest soon.”
“Can you chill me a Chardonnay?’
The next day was worse.
Becca handed me Jessie’s diaper bag while I was bouncing Spencer and said, “We’re exhausted, sweetie. Can you make the kids something organic? Liam’s tummy can’t handle dyes.”
Matthew looked up from his phone, saw my face, and then said, “And nothing fried.”
I stared at both of them.
Becca smiled. “You’re already in mom mode, Tals. And you’re better at this stuff than me. You were better with my kids from the time they were babies.”
I should have handed the bag back.
Instead, I took it.
“We’re exhausted, sweetie.”
I was in the nursery folding onesies when my phone buzzed with a bank alert.
“Steakhouse Limiere: $2,000.00”
I opened my banking app. My hands started shaking so badly that I knocked over the lamp.
Thomas came into the doorway. “Tal? You okay, hon?”
I turned the phone toward him.
My husband’s face changed. “Tals, that’s a lot of money.”
“I know, Thomas. I didn’t do it.”
From the hallway, Becca called out, “Talia? Did the payment go through?”
“Tals, that’s a lot of money.”
I walked out before Thomas could stop me.
Becca was leaning over my island, flipping through one of my cookbooks. “I ordered Easter dinner from that steakhouse downtown. The elite one that everyone’s talking about. I’m so excited.”
“You used my credit card?” I asked.
She looked up like I was upset over candles. “You weren’t answering my texts,” she pouted. “I texted you about dinner plans.”
“That money was for my baby’s new crib and stroller, Becca.”
She shrugged. “You can buy a crib next month. He has one now, doesn’t he? We needed something decent, Talia. We needed to celebrate with delicious food.”
‘You used my credit card?’
Thomas stepped in beside me. “Becca, cancel it.”
“Oh, relax, brother,” she said. “This is important. It’s family.”
I looked at Matthew. “Did you know she used my card?”
His forehead creased. “You said your brother offered.”
“I said he wouldn’t mind,” Becca snapped. Then she rolled her eyes at me. “Why are you acting like I robbed a bank?”
Spencer fussed from the bassinet. I was standing there in Thomas’s sweatshirt, my stomach aching, while she talked about ‘decent’ food bought with my baby’s money.
‘Did you know she used my card?’
Something in me went very still.
“You used money I saved for my son,” I said.
Becca gave a short laugh. “Don’t be dramatic.”
I turned to Thomas. “Take Spencer.”
I went back into the nursery and closed the door.
The bank representative was kind and efficient. She froze the card immediately, opened a fraud case, and asked whether anyone with access to my saved payment information might have made other purchases.
I checked the recent charges.
‘Don’t be dramatic.’
There it was: an airline charge from two hours earlier, including an upgrade fee for first-class seats.
I stared at it and laughed, tired and disbelieving.
“Ma’am?” the bank rep called gently.
“Yes,” I said. “Add the other purchases from today too. In fact, everything from the last forty-eight hours.”
Then I called the steakhouse and confirmed the order. Then the airline. Then I screenshotted everything. By the time I came out, I felt hollowed out but clear.
Becca was slicing strawberries from my fridge.
“All better?” she asked.
Then I screenshotted everything.
I smiled at her.
“Of course,” I said softly. “Anything for family.”
