I knew Bill well enough to hear the sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t just saying that to end the fight, but I did smile in spite of myself. “Oh, please.”
“It’s true. I thought you were way out of my league. I got lucky.” He squatted to pull a skillet from a cupboard. “How’s an omelet sound for my hungover girl?”
I grinned. “Like maybe your asshole status is changing.”
* * *
Horizontal on the sofa with my nose buried inVogue, I almost didn’t notice when something bounced off my calf. I lowered the magazine and retrieved my cell phone from the end of the couch.
“You know what you have to do,” Bill said from the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on his pajama pants. The smells of eggs, grilled peppers, and sautéed mushrooms gave way to Dawn dish soap.
My confusion morphed into panic when I remembered last night’s texts with David. Suddenly, I couldn’t recall if I’d deleted them in my tipsy state or even exactly what I’d said. “Where’d you get this?” I asked, gripping my phone.
“Your purse in the kitchen.”
I blinked at him. “What do you mean, I know what I have to do?”
Bill rounded the couch, sat in a recliner by my feet, and took his latest thriller from the coffee table. “Leanore. Call her.”
I deflated back against the couch and pulled a pillow over my face. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”
“You can’t ignore your own mother on her birthday.”
“I’m not ignoring her,” I said. “Why don’tyoucall her if it’s so important? Get Lucy on the line, too. Make it a conference call.”
“Liv,” he said. “Come on. Just dial the numbers and wish her a happy birthday.”
I pulled the pillow away and looked at my phone again. “And then what?”
“And then you can hang up. Once you tell her you love her. And that you miss her.”
It was all true, but it had been for a long time. I missed who she’d been before. Before the paranoia, the excessive drinking, the divorce. Before she’d turned on my dad, onme—her own daughter—and left me with scars both inside and out that I wasn’t about to reopen.
Talking with her—even talkingabouther—threatened to take me back to the last night we’d spent as a family.
But it made Bill happy to see us getting along, and I’d already threatened his sense of family once this weekend with our argument over the house.
I sighed as I picked up the phone and scrolled my contacts until I saw it.
Leanore.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, Mom.” There was a pause on the line. “Mom?”
“Olivia?”
“Unless you have some secret daughter I don’t know about. Are you there?”
“Yes, yes,” she said. “How are you?”
“I’m fine.” I scratched under my nose. “I just, um, called to wish you a happy birthday.”
“I didn’t think I’d hear from you. It’s been months.”
“I know. Things have been crazy here.” Bill cleared his throat, and I picked at something on the couch. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m well,” she said. “I keep trying to get in touch with your father. Money’s tight. I don’t know what I’ll do in a couple months. He won’t take my calls.”
