cardigan.
My nursing pajamas.
And my beautiful sage-green dress.
The green dress still had its original tags.
Tara had advertised it for $85.
Underneath the listing was one word.
SOLD.
I stared at the screen.
My sister-in-law wasn’t simply borrowing the clothes.
She was selling them.
I took screenshots of everything and marched downstairs.
“Nick, your sister is selling my maternity clothes.”
He glanced at my phone.
“Maybe some of them don’t fit.”
“They fit me!”
“Why are you making everything about yourself?”
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
Then
