A slow smile lifted my cheeks as I nodded. I’d missed my father. I’d been avoiding him, reasoning that I needed to tell him and Mom about Dylan and me at the same time, hoping that she would be my buffer. But, again, that was the chickenshit way out. I could tell Mom first, but it would make it to Dad, and peering up at him now, his eyes shimmering with love for his only daughter, my heart couldn’t do it. He was going to be disappointed in me for the first time in my life, and it would be awful. I was the biggest hypocrite, wanting everyone to know about us except the other most important man in my life.
“I’ll tell Ryan I have a ride and meet you outside.”
“And I’ll put this in the car. I’ll hang it up at work and watch the guys blow smoke up my ass that this piece of shit is awesome because I’m their chief.” He winked, and I burst out laughing.
“It’s not shit, Dad. You have nice reflections.” I drifted my finger over the shadowed trees in the water.
“It’s shit. Nothing like what my talented daughter paints.” He planted a kiss on my temple and made his way outside. He was so proud and full of love, I couldn’t pull the plug on that. At least not, yet. “Peanut” was a baby name I yearned to outgrow, but tonight, as we strolled to the restaurant next door to the studio, Dad’s arm wrapped around my shoulders as I leaned against him, I dreaded when I’d have to let it go.
“Jack told you about Danielle?” Dad asked after we sat down and ordered.
“His therapist? Yeah, anybody but Marina is an upgrade to me.” I sipped my water and shrugged. “Although isn’t there a rule against dating your therapist while you’re there?”
“He’s almost out, and I remember Danielle as a sweet little girl. It’s funny how her brother was Jack’s friend.” He chuckled and thanked the waitress when she set our pizza on the table.
I took a slice but froze. “Why is that funny?”
“All the kids got thrown together, but she was too young for him to notice back then. Her brother was a good kid, too. I’m not sure if you’d remember Kyle; you were little when they moved.”
“I remember Kyle. I wasn’t that little.” My words were clipped and defensive, my heart racing for a reason I couldn’t pinpoint.
“She was only a couple of years younger than they were. It’s not like you dating one of Jack’s friends.” His chest rumbled with a laugh, and I almost choked on a mouthful of pizza.
“You okay, Peanut?” Dad reached across the table and patted my back as I coughed.
“Fine, just hotter than I thought, and it went down the wrong way. What would be different? About me dating Kyle?” I couldn’t even use Dylan in the hypothetical.
He fell back into his chair and glared at me as if I had grown a second head. “PJ, you’re only eighteen, there’s almost a decade between you and your brother. The only way I’d approve of you and one of Jack’s friends is if I were dead.” He laughed again, hearty and loud—causing my stomach to bottom out down to my knees. Sure, he was laughing, but I knew he wasn’t kidding.
“So tell me, why don’t you want to go to San Diego anymore?” His broad smile faded as he rested his elbows on the table.
“School of Visual Arts is a great school with basically the same program as I was looking into in San Diego. Like you kept saying, everything I was looking for just a train ride away from home.”
He cocked his head from side to side. “Yes, but you were so adamant about it for so long, and all of a sudden, you’re staying here. Why the change of heart, Peanut?”
If Dad called me Peanut one more time, I’d burst into tears. “I thought you’d be happy.” I threw my napkin on the table and crossed my arms.
“I am. Of course. I hated the idea of you moving across the country but I’d deal with it if it was what you wanted. You can talk to me, you know? About anything. I feel like you’re already drifting away from me this summer. What’s going on, Patricia Jane?”
“Nothing, Dad. It’s been a busy summer, and I didn’t want to go away. I’d miss home too much, and college is hard enough to get used to. I’d rather go home and sleep in my own bed at night.”
Or go to Dylan’s home and sleep in his bed and not put an entire country between us since I had only been planning to do that to prove a point, not because I’d ever really wanted to go.
“All right.” He held up his hands. “I’ll drop it, but I wanted to make sure.” He reached across the table, his hand covering mine before he gave it a squeeze. “I’m glad we did this.”
“Me too,” I choked out. My father had been everything to me for my entire life. A big, lionhearted man who lived for his family. He was on point; I had drifted away from him on purpose because I couldn’t be honest with him. They say lies snowball. Lies of omission do the same, only bigger and more painful. The longer you go without saying the truth, the worse it’ll be when it comes out.
This snowball of omission was about to tear a rift between my father and me, and no matter how and when the truth came out, there would be nothing I could do but watch it happen.
25
Dylan
“You don’t have to lie.”PJ’s lips pursed in an adorable smirk as she brushed the wet curls off her forehead. We were drenched from getting caught in a downpour. It was a gloomy, cooler-than-usual August Sunday, and she suggested we spend the afternoon at a museum in Manhattan. I agreed, even though my last trip to a museum had probably been around the fourth grade.
“I’m not lying.” I held the door open for her to step into a diner we spotted through the buckets of rain. She laughed and shook her head as she walked through, her soaked T-shirt and jean shorts clinging to every curve and making my own pants tight. All I could think about was peeling them off of her, and I wished we’d driven down instead of taking the subway.
The hostess led us to a booth, and I slid in beside her instead of across.
