She flushed.
“Mom said it was handled.”
“Did that sound like something I’d agreed to?”
Khloe looked away.
I continued.
“Two weeks ago, you asked whether Daniel and I could postpone our trip because pregnancy was making travel difficult for you. I said no.”
“That was different!”
“How?”
She didn’t answer.
Then she began crying.
“I just wanted one beautiful thing before the baby comes.”
I looked at her.
“Khloe, you already had your own celebration planned. Your baby shower is next month.”
She wiped her face.
“This was supposed to be special.”
“So was my first dance.”
Mom stepped between us.
“Enough! She’s pregnant. You don’t need to upset her.”
I looked at my mother.
“And apparently being pregnant means nobody can tell her no.”
Lorraine stared.
Then she said the sentence I’d heard in one form or another my entire life.
**“You’re the older sister. You should know better.”**
I felt something settle inside me.
Not relief.
Not triumph.
Just the strange quiet that comes when a familiar argument finally stops sounding convincing.
I stood.
“Mom, I’m going to say this once.”
She lifted her chin.
