I’M SOAKED with sweat by the time I make it inside my parents’ house. As soon as I walk into the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of water and drain it. I don’t think I’ve run a six-minute mile since I quit baseball.
Three days without her, and I waiver between despair and strange bursts of breathless euphoria, which might be the result of lack of sleep.
But it might not be.
Maybe I needed this. Maybe this hell I’m living in now is actually a wonderful gift. Without it, I might never have crawled out of my deep pit of denial.
Losing her friendship has opened the door to that beautiful world I got to live in for less than twenty-four hours. The one I was too terrified to make my permanent home.
“Honey,” my mom says, pulling me out of my head. I’ve been spending a lot of time here with her since Livvy left. Even though I haven’t been brave enough to share more than I did a few days ago, my mom’s presence soothes me. “You have dark circles under your eyes. You’re not sleeping.”
“I’m not going to be able to sleep well until I talk to her.”
Her brow knits. “And what if your talk doesn’t go well?”
My throat constricts at the thought, but I push it away. “I can’t think about that right now.”
Her frown deepens. “You need to talk about what you’re feeling. Holding it in doesn’t do you any good.”
“I’m too tired to talk.”
She sighs. “Well, you know I’m here when you need me.”
“Is that right?” a deep voice says.
When I glance up, my dad’s tall form hovers in the kitchen entryway. He stands with his hands on his hips and a cynical smile on his face. “How can you be here for him if you’re breaking up this family?”
Jesus, is he drinking? He looks worse than I did the last time I looked in a mirror, with his red face and puffy eyes. When I shoot a questioning look at my mom, she shakes her head slightly before looking back at my dad. “I’m breaking up with you, not my children. Oh, and by the way, I talked to Allen yesterday, and I have great news about the estate. I mean, when I say you’ll be happy—”
“Allen.” My dad’s eyelids grow lazy. “So you’re on a first-name basis with him already. That was quick.”
I scowl. “Chill out, Dad. Most people are on a first-name basis with their lawyer. As you are, by the way, with all of the company lawyers. Leave her alone. You sound like a fucking child.”
My mom frowns at me. “Don’t talk to your dad like that.”
I’m about to roll my eyes at her, but the look my dad’s face freezes me. He’s staring at my mom with an emotion I recognize well, because it’s all I’ve felt these past several days.
It’s longing.
He’s probably thinking about how my mom won’t be around to defend him after the divorce. She won’t have his back, and anyone who’s been blessed enough to have her loyalty knows what a loss that is.
My mom turns to him, and if she notices his look, she doesn’t show it. “Anyway, Allen—” she raises her brows, “—has a whole plan about how we can keep the kids’ trusts completely intact. I didn’t fully understand it, but hopefully, once you hear it, you can break it down for me.”
“I don’t want to hear any of it,” my dad says, and I can’t keep myself from gawking at him. His petulance is strange to watch, like I’m seeing a version of him from decades ago, long before I ever knew him.
He rushes over to the fridge and pulls out a beer. I shoot a wide-eyed look at my mom, but she doesn’t seem surprised.
“Mark, honey, you have the Vons meeting later…”
He ignores her and twists off the lid of his beer with his bare fist. “Don’t call me ‘honey’. You’ve given up that right.”
My mom purses her lips. “Do you need me to text Lily and have her reschedule it for you?”
“I’m perfectly capable of texting her myself.”
She turns to me and claps her hands together once. “Alright” Her voice is chipper. “I’m late for my knitting club, so I need to head out.”
As she walks out of the kitchen, my dad follows her with his gaze. He’s not even trying to hide his desolation.
Jesus, he looks so sad and….
Kind of pathetic.
It’s unsettling, and it makes something soften inside my chest. I’m not affectionate with him anymore. Any affection I show is perfunctory, like a quick hug after coming home from a school break. It’s so strange that I want to reach out and touch his shoulder and ask if he’s doing okay.
I clear my throat. “Divorce is hard, Dad. It’s well known that it’s harder on men.”
He lifts his beer and takes another big gulp. “We’re not getting a divorce.”
I avert my gaze, heat washing over my skin. Good God, this is really getting sad. He’s falling apart. Meanwhile, my mom seems just fine.
“As long as you’re drinking, are you sure you don’t want something stronger?” I ask. “I’ve got a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue at the guesthouse. I was saving it for a rainy day, and I’m probably as miserable as you are.”
He doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “That sounds great.”
A while later, my dad and I sit in my living room. He stares down at the brown liquid in his glass as he swirls it around. Having just run a hand through his hair, one side of it is slightly fluffed out.
Sophia said he was sad after he had sex with her. Maybe this is what she was talking about.
But why? Why would he pine for my mom when he’s brazenly ignored her for years?
“You’ll be okay, Dad. You know that, right?”
His gaze is fixed on his whiskey, and the only hint that he heard me is the slight tick of his jaw.
“You’re a good-looking guy,” I say. “You’ll get married again. I’ve heard women my age say you’re hot.”
And I know for a fact that you’ve fucked women my age. Of course, but there’s no reason to bring up Sophia.
“I don’t want to marry a twenty-two-year-old girl. That’s not a real wife.”
I strain my eyes to keep them from rolling. He’s in too much pain for me to be mean, but I guess a
“real wife” is supposed to take care of him and every aspect of his life while he fucks twenty-two-year-old girls behind her back.
“Then you can find a nice forty or… How old are you?”
“I’m forty-eight.” He frowns into his glass. “It’s too much work. I won’t ever get married again.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
He lifts a hand and runs it through the other side of his hair, so now his whole head is disheveled.
“Your mom’s going to get remarried right away. Let’s say a year. Do you want the over or under?”
Jesus, does he really think I’m going to make a bet like that about my own mother? “How drunk are you?”
“Not drunk enough.”
“Do you even know Mom at all?”
He scowls. “It won’t be hard for her. She never loved me.”
Good God. What a melodramatic, self-serving view of their failed marriage. Do all men of his generation throw themselves pity parties when their wives finally grow weary enough of their bullshit to divorce them? Is this why divorce is so hard for them as a rule?
“So you’re implying that you love her?”
“I’ve always loved her.”
His answer comes so quickly, it makes irritation flare over my skin. I grit my teeth to fight the retort rising to my tongue. What crock of shit. “You had an interesting way of showing it.”
“I know I was a terrible husband, but we haven’t really been married. Not for a long time, at least.”
“Maybe you didn’t want to be, but you had a wife at home when you were fucking other women.
And you have three kids who love her and didn’t want to see her hurting.”
He flinches. “I wish I hadn’t been so careless. What I did on that trip to Arizona is one of my biggest regrets. You shouldn’t have seen that.”
My pulse pounds like a drum in my ears. “You shouldn’t have done it.”
When he shuts his eyes, I take a deep breath. There’s no reason to rehash it all now. Their marriage is over. My mom is moving on.
“I suppose technically it was wrong.” His voice is much softer. “No matter what we agreed on.”
I jerk back, a prickle of foreboding running over my skin. “What are you talking about?”
He stands up and walks to my kitchen counter. When he picks up the bottle of whiskey, I open my mouth to tell him he’s had enough, but then he starts talking. The tone of his voice sends a ripple of alarm through me.
“I never should have married her.” The dreamy quality to his voice tells me he’s talking to himself. “She was so young, and I knew she was still in love with him. But I thought there was plenty of time for her love to grow. I couldn’t let her go. I practically bullied her into marrying me.” He shakes his head slowly. “I guess I got what I deserved.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine. “In love with who? And what do you mean you got what you deserved?”
He jerks back, his eyes growing focused. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”
“No.” My voice is hard. “You can’t drop hints like that and expect me to let it go. You deserved what? Did mom have an affair?”
He clenches his teeth. “You need to talk to her about it. All I’m going to say is that our marriage has been over for sixteen years. I was done, at least, but your mom wanted to keep our family together. She chose to stay married for you kids.”
“This is fucking insane!” I take both hands and run them through my hair, clinging tightly and sending tingles into my scalp. “Are you making this up to get sympathy?”
“No!” He scowls. “I neither want nor deserve your sympathy. She would have reconciled if I had initiated it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t forgive her, so I kept punishing her over and over again. I could see that it hurt her, and I liked it.”
“Dad, that’s so fucked up.”
“I know.”
“Who did she have an affair with?”
“Her ex-boyfriend.” His faint smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Her high school sweetheart. I would kill him right now if I had the chance, even after sixteen years.”
“Jesus Christ. I never even knew she had a boyfriend before you.”
He scoffs. “Have you seen your mom? If I hadn’t snatched her up, someone else would have, which is why I married her when I knew she wasn’t ready.”
My vision grows dazed, and I stare at the floor. How is it possible that I got everything wrong? I thought my mom was ignored and lonely. Fragile. I thought she was so close to breaking that I never wanted to burden her with anything, and it made me hate my dad.
Maybe the pall cast over my world and memories also clouded my perception of her. Maybe I didn’t see her correctly.
I withdrew from both of them after that trip to Arizona.
I lost both of them.
“I always thought she was sad,” I say. “I thought she was just waiting around, hoping you would stop treating her like shit, and that’s why she wouldn’t divorce you.”
“She wanted me to stop, but she wasn’t waiting. She wanted to stay married so that she could give you kids a stable childhood, and she didn’t want you to know about any of this. She was furious with me after Arizona.”
“Why didn’t you stop cheating? Why did you punish her for sixteen years if you supposedly love her?”
“I don’t know.” He lowers his head to his hands and runs his fingers through his hair again. “I didn’t think I had to stop. I never thought she would divorce me, and even though our relationship was shit, at least she was mine.”
My body grows utterly still.
Oh my God.
Isn’t that what I did with Livvy? I didn’t have all of her, but what I had was mine alone. I desperately needed her, and that gave her a terrifying power over me. It made me selfish and greedy. I kept her entirely to myself for years, and that meant I never had to confront what it would mean if she explored a life without me. If she’d dated… If she’d gotten a boyfriend…
I would have lost my mind. I nearly did from just watching someone else press his lips against hers.
My denial would have ended much sooner if I’d stopped clinging to her like I might die if I ever let go. No wonder she said I wanted her to live small. I would have locked her in a dungeon if it meant I could keep her forever.
Fuck, I’m a bastard.
She deserves so much more than what I’ve given her these past five years. She deserves to overcome all her fears and live a wildly full life.
I have to let her, no matter how much it terrifies me.
“You were afraid,” I say.
“You didn’t want to reconcile with her because you didn’t want to risk what would happen if she did something like that again. You were protecting yourself.”
He sighs. “Probably. It was torture finding out what she did.”
“Yeah, but isn’t this worse?”
He sighs. “This is hell.”
It is hell, but it doesn’t have to be. Not for me.
I know exactly what I’m going to do. I know exactly how I can show her how much I love her.
“What am I going to do without her?” my dad asks, and the pain in his voice pulls me out of my head.
Oh God, he doesn’t have the consolation of hope like I do. His stupidity has lasted longer and been much more destructive. He doesn’t have a prayer of winning my mom back after all he’s done.
I can’t even imagine his agony.
“Dad…”
“What?”
“Um…” I exhale as I try to find the right words. “I think I’ve been a little unfair to you. Over the years, I mean.”
At first, his brow knits, but then his whole expression softens.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still mad at you. You’re a dick for all the things you’ve done.”
“I know.”
“Walking in on you having sex with another woman was traumatizing. Literally traumatizing. I can’t even think about it without feeling like I’m going to have a panic attack.”
His expression grows somber. “You have no idea how much I regret my carelessness—”
I lift a hand. “Let me finish. Mom made a mistake. It was a big one, but it’s fucked up that you’ve punished her for sixteen years over it.”
“I know.”
“I just…” I meet his gaze. “I want you to know that I’ll be here for you during this divorce. I know you probably have a lot of reason to think I wouldn’t be, but I love you, and I don’t like that you’re in so much pain.”
He looks away from me and nods jerkily. I know it’s to hide the fact that his eyes are misting. Oh God, I don’t think I could handle it if he cried. I already want to burst with a tenderness I haven’t felt for him since I was a teenager.
“To be honest,” I say, “I was dreading starting work and having you as my boss, but I’m kind of looking forward to it now. Maybe we can start getting lunch together or something.”
His smile is almost boyish, and it makes something click into place in my chest. “We can start going to games again,” he says. “I can get Dodger’s season tickets.”
LATER THAT EVENING, I walk into my mom’s knitting room.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” She keeps her gaze fixed on her deftly moving fingers as she twists the blue yarn around the silver needles.
“So…Dad told me some things today.”
“Oh.” It’s a small, faint sound, but there’s a wealth of meaning behind it. There’s only one thing he could have told me, and she knows what it is.
“Yeah. He seemed like he was telling the truth, but I won’t believe it until you confirm it.”
She shuts her eyes, her face grimacing. “It’s true.”
My throat grows tight, and I take a deep breath through my nose. “That’s okay, Mom. I mean…
Not that you were apologizing, but…”
Her grimace grows. “Do you wish I’d told you?”
I swallow. “No. It’s none of my business. I wish I hadn’t made so many assumptions about your marriage. I wish I had just left it between you guys.”
She nods slowly. “I thought I could shield you kids from all of it, but looking back, that seems naive. I probably should have divorced your dad years ago. It would have been healthier for you all in the long run.”
My body tenses. “Stop making it all about us. Think about yourself for once.”
When her gaze snaps up, I finally see the tears, and my heart jumps into my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
“It’s okay, honey.” Her pained expression softens, and she wipes under her eyes. “Do you want to finally learn how to knit? I could use the company.”
“Not even a little bit, but I can hang out with you while you knit. I could also use the company.”
When she smiles, I join her on the couch.
“Do you want to laugh?” I ask as I pull my phone from my pocket. “Last night at, like, three in the morning, I sent this completely unhinged text to Livvy, and it’s so pathetic, even I laughed when I reread it this morning.”
She glances down at her needles. “I won’t find it funny.”
“Oh, Mom, you underestimate me. I become a poet when I’m depressed. A really, really shitty one.”
She glares at me, though her lips are twitching slightly. “If you want someone to laugh about your depression, you’ve come to the wrong place. Read the room better.”
I grin. “We’ll see. We’ll see if your maternal instincts can withstand my masterpiece of patheticness. I think you’re going to lose.”
It turns out, I don’t make her laugh when I read her the text, but I am able to talk to her about the mixture of fear and hope that compelled me to write it in the first place, and the lightness I feel afterward makes me wish I had done this sooner.
