“Yeah? Ditto.”
“This isn’t a game, Jillian. You’d better not have been with the Holden kid. I thought I made my feelings clear.”
I jam a loaded portafilter into the machine. My anger is scalding, like water rushing through ground espresso. I look him square in the eye. “I thought I’d mademyfeelings clear.”
He emits a heavy sigh. “I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like a child.”
“And I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like anadulterer.” The words are out before I register thinking them, spoken in an acidic tone that makes him wince. I glare, merciless. “You can’t deny it, can you? Last night, you were with her.”
“I don’t know what you think you saw—”
“I sawyou, with another woman, smiling and laughing. You wereholding her hand. God, Dad. I’m not stupid. You’re cheating on Meredith!”
His righteousness crumples as he looks at his lap. I slap a lid on his cappuccino and hold it out the window, waiting for him to take it. He doesn’t, and we’re left at an impasse; me, pulsating with rage, my arm suspended in the morning air, and my dad, hanging his head. Behind me, Kyle whistles the chorus of Michael Jackson’s “Man in the Mirror” as he completes the midday cleanup duties.
“It’s over,” Dad says quietly.
I draw my arm and his cappuccino inside. “How convenient.”
“Really. I ended it last night.”
“On Valentine’s Day?”
“That’s right. I won’t see her again.”
“Who is she?”
“That’s not important.”
“Were you with her the night Ally was born?”
“That’s not important, either.”
I roll my eyes. “I should’ve known you’d be incapable of honesty.”
He fixes a steady stare on me. “I’m not sure you’re one to judge.”
I refuse to let him point his flawed finger at me. “This is what happened with my mother, isn’t it? You guys had a baby—me—and your wedding vows didn’t matter anymore. It’s no wonder she left. How do you think Meredith’s going to react?”
“You’re going to tell her?” he says, and his surprise—his alarm—bowls me over.
“You’regoing to tell her.”
He shakes his head. “I can’t.”
“God, Dad! She deserves to know!”
“But it’s done. I swear to God it is. Please, Jillian. This will ruin her.”
“Like it ruined Beth?”
He flinches, but doesn’t contradict me.
I’ve never missed my mother—I don’t know her enough to miss her—but I’ve missed theideaof a mother, not to mention all the things I imagine they do for their daughters: French braids before school and warm cookies after, Saturday afternoon shopping trips and homemade chicken soup during flu season. I’ve felt sharp stabs of envy watching silent smiles pass between Marcy and her girls, and I spent years holding Meredith at arm’s length because she tried too hard to fill a colossal hole.
Dad says, “Is that what you want? Meredith to move out? She’ll take Ally with her.”
My heart plummets—that’s thelastthing I want.
