“It’s Saturday,” Meredith says. “It’s bad enough you were gone all day. You could’ve come home for dinner.”
“I wasworking,” Dad says.
I close my laptop with a sigh.
“You’re always working. Prepping for a case. Mid-case. Wrapping up a case. I wish you were as interested in spending time with your daughters as you are in your job.”
“I’m interested in paying the mortgage, Meredith.”
“Ally’s not going to be a baby forever. Look how quickly Jillian’s grown up. Someday you’ll regret not being around more.”
“And someday you’ll regret being such a nag.”
The living room falls quiet. I imagine Meredith’s face twisted with hurt. Dad’s being so unappreciative, so nasty. Lately, I’ve found Mer’s nagging to be pretty damn warranted.
Footsteps pad down the hall. Her shadow passes by my door, and I consider checking on her, but I don’t know what to say or how to help. Besides, she’d probably put on her happy face and pretend everything’s fine, like usual.
My phone dings with a text. I grab it and fall onto my bed.
Max:What are you doing?
I type:Homework, because the truth,listening to Dad and Mer fight, is too much information.
On Saturday night? You know better.
I smile and respond:OK, Life of the Party. What are you doing?
Thinking.
About?
I await his response, buzzing with anticipation. There’s something about our conversation—texted or not—that feels monumental.
My phone chimes. He’s sent one word:You.
Thank God I’m alone, because I can’t help my little gasp of surprise. I reply:Don’t play games with me, Holden.
No games.And then:I had fun today. You?
Yes.I send the message and let the admission sink in. Ididhave fun. When there’s no drinking or drama or dysfunction, Max and I are great together.
He sends another text:Guess what I want…
I can only imagine.Ooh, tell me.
Ice cream. Out front in 5?
I confirm, grinning, then swap my leggings for jeans. I leave my sweatshirt on;this isn’t a date, I remind myself. Still, I run my fingers through my hair and swipe lip gloss across my mouth. Then I head down the hallway to Dad and Meredith’s room.
She’s in the master bath, on her knees, scouring the tub with a scrub brush. The harsh smell of cleanser burns my nose. I lean against the doorjamb. “Meredith?”
The brush falls, landing in the tub with a clatter. “Oh! Jill, you startled me.” With the back of her hand, she wipes perspiration from her forehead. Then she notices my shoes. “Where are you off to?”
“Just out for a bit.”
“With who?”
“Well, remember this morning, before Marcy and Max came over? When you said you’d owe me one?”
