“It is,” I quickly answer, following her eyes to my phone and then meeting them when she lifts her gaze. “Really. I’m happy with him. Right now it’s just hard with him struggling to find a job, but as soon as he finds one we’ll be happy like we were. So happy. I just know it.”

I know it.

“I’m sure you’re right,” she says, smiling a little. “And I’m sure he’ll find a job soon.”

“Yeah.” I smile back, mine as weak as hers.

We stare at each other while silence lingers, that uncomfortable silence filled with unspoken words and unshared fears, and when I can’t take it anymore I check the time on my phone.

“I gotta go. We have that concert tonight. The Killers. Richard bought us tickets a few months back.” I stand from my stool and slip my phone away.

“Oh, that’s right. Hey.” Beth reaches into the front pocket of her apron and pulls out some cash. She holds it over the bar. “Can you get me a shirt? I don’t have one of theirs.”

I wave off her offer. “I got it. You know, since we’re family now.”

She grins, laughing lightly. “You just love saying that, don’t you?” she says, bringing back my words from earlier as she tucks her money away.

“Maybe a little,” I reply. “I’ll give it to you on Sunday. Sound good?”

“Yep.”

“And thanks for listening. Really. I’m so glad I have you to talk to about stuff like this. About everything.”

“Anytime, little sis,” she says, amusement in her voice as she makes her way to the man waiting on his refill. She lifts her hand and waves.

I wave back, doing this grinning because I have a sister now and she’s awesome, and also because she gets what I’m doing. She understands.

Meaning I’m doing the right thing.

“I’m home!” I announce after stepping inside the house and shutting the door behind me.

I toss my book bag against the wall in the hallway and dart upstairs, knowing that’s where Richard has been spending most of his time as of late, and find him in the office.

He’s slouched back in the comfy desk chair we purchased months ago, still in the clothes he slept in last night, unshaved, looking exhausted and possibly irritated, I can’t tell. The two seem to go hand in hand these days. Head tipped toward the ceiling, eyes unfocused, a bottle in his hand. Whiskey, by the looks of it. While two empty beer cans lay scattered on the desk amongst my school papers, laptop, and the bills I’m waiting to pay.

“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe and wrap my hand around my forearm. “How’d it go today? Any luck?”

Richard doesn’t turn his head or acknowledge me, meaning he’s not possibly irritated. He’s absolutely irritated.

He brings the bottle to his lips and takes a swig of the amber colored liquid.

“Well, you know, that’s okay. Tomorrow’s another day, right?” I step into the room. “I bet you’ll find something tomorrow.”

“You know how annoying you’re being right now?” He slowly turns his head.

I stop a foot away from the desk when our eyes lock. I see the anger in his.

“Quit with the positivity bullshit, Ri,” he snaps. “I’m sick of hearing it.”

I shrug. “Sorry. I’m just—”

“You’re just making it worse, all right?” he interrupts. “I don’t need you telling me I’m gonna find a job and shoving down my fucking throat how qualified I am and then saying shit about how people are crazy if they don’t hire me, and how you would hire me. What the fuck? You think that shit helps?” He takes another swig from the bottle, then jerks forward and slams the laptop closed. “There’s no fucking jobs available right now,” he spits. “There’s nothing. How many times do I gotta tell you that? I can’t get hired if I can’t fucking apply to anything.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Just . . .” I step closer until I’m standing beside the desk. “Please be careful with that,” I request, pointing at the laptop. “I need it for school.”

He sets the bottle on the desk and rakes his hands down his face. “Right,” he murmurs before slamming back in the chair. He tilts his head up and glares at me. “Looks like you’re the one who’ll be providing for us so I guess I should be careful with the shit I bought you, back when I was working.”

I feel my mouth grow tight.

Is Richard being rude and taking his frustrations out on me?

Absolutely.

Do I understand his frustration and know he really doesn’t mean what he’s saying?

Yes. This isn’t him.

This is our bump.

Which is why I relax my mouth into a smile and let him see it before climbing onto his lap.

He doesn’t reach out for me or draw me closer. He keeps his arms on the armrests.

“I think tonight will be good for you,” I tell him, pulling my knees up, kissing his scratchy jaw and then resting my head on his shoulder while my fingers play in the frayed edges of his sleeve. “It’ll get your mind off everything. Let you relax a little. You need it.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks.

“The concert.” I angle my head up and meet his eyes. “Remember? We’ve got tickets to see The Killers.”

Richard stares at me.

“What?” I ask.