She couldn’t get home fast enough, where she fell on the sofa and wept.
She wasn’tsure how long she slept, but when Meredith opened her eyes an hour or so after collapsing there, she knew her crappy day wasn’t over yet.
Her whole life, she’d trained herself to get the most annoying or difficult tasks out of the way first. She’d never understood the appeal of procrastination…until now.
She couldn’t put this off any longer. She’d never made any major—or minor—decision in her life without consulting Eli Lawson. She’d probably talked to her mother a lot, too, but her memories of that woman grew dimmer every year.
She’d been thirteen when beautiful Mommy died, and sometimes she barely recalled much of life before the plane crash. Meredith remembered snippets, moments, snapshots of time, but mostly it was a blur.
Only one thing remained clear, calm, and stable—her father. From the day her mother passed away until this very minute, Meredith had leaned on Dad’s strong and steady shoulders, and he’d never let her down.
“Oh, Dad. I wish I could say it went both ways.” Because she was about to let him down, and hard.
It wasn’t that he’d get mad—the man didn’t have a temper. He’d be hurt and so deeply disappointed. He’d pray and beg her to do the right thing and never make her feel like the failure she was—which would only make it harder.
With a grunt, she fished out her phone, tapping Dad’s name. That brought up a profile picture of him beaming at her on the day she graduated from college, so proud of his little girl.
The very same one who was about to break his heart.
Without giving herself time to think, she pressed the call button and speaker, taking a steadying breath as it rang two, then three times.Please no voicemail. Please no?—
“Did you call to gloat?”
She drew back from the phone, the words and voice making no sense for a moment. “Jonah?”
“In the flesh,” he said. “Dad’s on baby duty, and he left his phone on the sofa.”
Baby duty.The words pressed on her chest. “Well, that’s fine. I want to talk to you. I’m so sorry, Jonah. I can’t believe what happened.”
He didn’t answer, the silence stretching between them.
“Are you okay?” she ventured.
“I’m figuring it out,” he said, as vague as Jonah always was with her.
It was maddening, to be honest. Before Mom died, she remembered being close to him—well, as close as a brother and sister born seventeen months apart could be when they were pre-teens and teenagers.
But they were cool—they played video games and watched movies and did hours of studying at the kitchen table, just two years apart in school.
After Mom died? No one was close to Jonah. No one.
“How’s Atlas?” she asked, uncertain of where to take this unexpected conversation.
“He’s…twenty-three days old.” His voice cracked and it did something unthinkable to her heart. “And I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.”
At the sound of a strangled sob, she put her hand to her mouth so she didn’t cry with him.
“Oh, Jonah. I’m so, so sorry. This is awful. But you have family.”
“He’s an orphan, Mer,” he said gruffly. “Just like we were.”
“We weren’t orphans,” she corrected. “We had Dad. And Atlas has you.”
“For whatever that’s worth,” he said glumly, sounding completely different than the last time she’d talked to him, the day after Atlas was born. He’d been so upbeat and funny, ready to go back to Destin to get his culinary arts degree, then be a good father to his new baby.
He said Carly had been fierce during labor, and he loved her and believed they’d get married.
“It’s worth a lot,” she said, trying to reassure him. When he didn’t answer, she rooted around for more information. “What does Dad say?”
