“I know,” she replied. “But your sister never has these emergencies. Chloe plans ahead. Chloe doesn’t create chaos.”
My throat tightened.
“Mom, he’s six weeks old.”
“And I already paid for my Caribbean cruise,” she said. “It’s nonrefundable.”
For nine years, I had covered her mortgage, utilities, groceries, medical bills, and endless “emergency money.” Four thousand five hundred dollars every month, because Dad had died and she claimed she was drowning. Because Chloe was always “between opportunities.” Because I was the responsible daughter.
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