Quietly, he laughs.
When we reach the door, I hesitate, standing woodenly with my hand wrapped around the knob. Saying good-bye, watching him walk across the street, gearing up to brave my messy, messy family…
Max brackets my face with his hands and says, “I’m sorry I acted like a dick when I should’ve been there for you. I’m sorry your dad’s made such a disaster of things. And I’m sorry Becky’s been screwing with you—that’s not gonna happen anymore.” He stoops down and kisses me, sweet and tender. “From now on, things are gonna be better.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.” He nudges my hand from the knob and opens the door, stepping past me. He touches me once more, a warm hand on the back of my neck, a reassuring squeeze. “You and me, Jilly.”
37
IFIND MEREDITH IN HER BED, CLUTCHINGa mug of tea. A book lies open across her lap, but she’s staring up at the ceiling, her expression so mournful my breath falters.
“Mer?” I say, stepping through the threshold. This was my dad’s bedroom first, his alone for several years, a space draped in dark textiles with geometric shapes, the air rich with soap and cotton and polished wood. Then it was their bedroom, masculine linens traded for light, delicate fabrics, her perfume mingling with his familiar cologne. Now, the space is wholly Meredith’s. Her clothes lay discarded across the chaise. Her makeup clutters the dresser’s smooth surface. Her romance novels stand in towers on both nightstands. My dad still sleeps at this home of ours, but it’s clear he mentally moved out months ago.
Meredith’s empty stare finds me. “Jill? Are you all right?”
“I’ve been better.”
She pats the mattress, and I climb up. “Did something happen with Max?”
“A lot of things happened with Max, actually, but we’re okay now.”
“New relationships always have their kinks.”
She passes me her tea, and I take a sip. It’s lukewarm and very sweet, comforting. I swallow and inhale a deep breath before saying, “Meredith, there’s something I have to tell you.” I pause, lost for words. How do you tell a woman she’s been betrayed by the person she loves most, her husband, the father of her new baby? I’m going to break her heart, wreck her dreams, shatter this life she knows so well. But…no. It’s Dad who’s ruined everything. I try again. “Mer, my dad… There’s someone else. It’s been going on for a while, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. He asked me not to. He promised it was over. But… it’s not.”
“I know,” she says.
“You do?”
“He called.”
“Hedid? I mean…” I tuck my legs beneath me, balancing her mug of tea on my knee. “What did he say?”
“He told me about Robin,” she says evenly.
“Mer, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe he’s done this to you.”
“To us,” she corrects, linking her arm through mine. “I’ve felt something wasn’t right for a long time, but I blamed Bill’s stroke and the pregnancy and then Ally herself. I let myself believe our problems would disappear if I spent enough time wishing them away. I didn’t know Robin was involved—I’m not sure that piece of the puzzle has registered, if I can be honest—but I knew your father was unhappy, and I suspected he was seeking happiness elsewhere.”
I think about Max, how he sought happiness with me while he was with Becky. Even though I knew cheating was fundamentally wrong, I still took part. Is what Max and I did behind Becky’s back any different from what Dad and Mrs. Tate did behind Meredith’s? Does genuine emotion pardon unfaithfulness?
“He had no right to do what he did,” I tell Meredith.
“No, he didn’t. And he had no right to involve you. I’m so sorry he put you in such a terrible position.” A tear trails down her cheek, and she dabs it with the cuff of her robe. “It’s best all this came out, though. I’m not interested in being married to a man who strays.”
“But Ally…”
Her face twists. “Ally will be okay. She’s got me. She’s got a big sister who cares.”
“And the worst father ever.” The stark truth leaves a sour taste on my tongue. Any allegiance I felt toward my dad went up in flames with his integrity.
Meredith sighs, a conflicted sound. “This will blow over someday. Don’t hate your dad because of it.” She kisses the top of my head, a motherly gesture that fills me with fondness. “Now, tell me what happened with Max.”
I fill her in on the secret I convinced Max to help me keep, and how I made him feel—inadequate. I tell her about Becky’s harassment, and how even though I hate that girl with a fiery passion, I can’t kick the guilt I feel regarding the demise of her relationship with Max. Meredith listens thoughtfully, without comment, until I say, “I’m just like my dad.”
“No, Jill, you’re not. You made mistakes, but your intentions were admirable.”
