My family didn’t know I owned it.
Not because I had hidden it.
Because they had never cared enough to listen.
Another message appeared.
Sophia, this means you’re not invited. We need people who won’t embarrass us in front of the right crowd.
My stomach tightened.
Then came the reactions.
Uncle James sent a thumbs-up.
Derek sent three laughing emojis.
Melissa wrote:
This is going to be so much better without her.
My mother added:
Finally a classy Christmas.
Then Rebecca, my younger sister:
Thank God. Sophia would probably show up in jeans.
I looked down at my black tailored blazer, cream silk blouse, pressed trousers, and Italian heels.
A laugh nearly escaped me.
Nearly.
For years, I had been the family disappointment who refused to behave disappointed.
Rebecca had married a corporate attorney at twenty-eight and spent
