“I can’t do that, either. My mom and sister would be devastated and question me.”
His eyes are soft and careful and watching when he says, “She’s going to find out sooner or later. You know that right? Secrets only stay secrets for so long.”
I hate how right he is when he says it. “I don’t like lying to her or my sister.”
“Then don’t.”
“It doesn’t feel that easy.”
He leans back, casually resting his arm on the table. His leg brushes mine again and my eyes settle on my smoothie. “Because he broke your heart.”
“Probably.”
“Whenever you add emotion into a decision, it feels a whole helluva lot heavier.”
I look back up at him. “So, if you were in my shoes, you’d tell your mom that her spouse stepped out on her? You wouldn’t be angry that he didn’t do it first?”
His brows raise. “Oh, I’d be pissed. It’s hard to guess exactly how I’d feel. My dad wasn’t around, but I wouldn’t like to see my mom in a situation like that.”
His dad wasn’t around?His mom raised him by herself?
Suddenly, I want to know more, where he comes from, his background. I’m curious to know why he moved in with Sebastian, why he doesn’t attend Chatham U, and so much more.
In a whisper, I say, “Maybe I’ll tell them.”
“If it feels right, do it.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then, I guess, don’t.”
“But you think I should,” I comment.
“I’m not the one who has to deal with it. People mess up sometimes. They fuck up and maybe sometimes we can help them move through their mistake or pick up the pieces, but other times we can’t. It’s unfair for him to put that on you. Cheating is one of those things another person can’t fix for you. That shit is between him and your mom.”
He has a point. It’s upsetting it happened and that I was the one to walk in on him. He broke my trust, but ultimately, it’s Mom’s forgiveness he’ll have to beg for.
I can’t sleep half the time because it won’t leave me. I see his secretary’s face, them in that moment, and it torments me. Maybe the only way to alleviate the pain is to hand it off to someone else.God. It’s so wrong that guilt pricks me instantly. How can I even think that?
“Is it weird that a part of me feels like I’m grieving? Like I lost him?”
“He’s still your dad, but parents are more than that, too. Sometimes other shit overrides being there for their kids.”
I slurp up a mouthful of smoothie. “You give good advice, but can we stop talking about me? Tell me about you.”
He grins and somehow it makes his eyes seem brighter. “I was just fine talking about you.”
“My life is too depressing to keep going on. It’s your turn to share.”
“And if I don’t want to?”
I shrug. “Then I won’t force you.”
From the look on his face, I can tell he’s considering whether he wants to share about himself. It’s not like I want much, just anything that’ll distract me from my problems. Call it selfish, but from the way he sits across from me, I don’t think he’d mind.
Relief bubbles up in me when he finally offers a piece of himself. “I grew up in Harrison Heights.”
Growing up, my parents were adamant about keeping Olive and I from crossing the Sycamore Memorial. As we got older, we got wiser. We knew that Harrison Heights was the less fortunate area north of where we lived.
