“I applied for a summer STEM program,” he said.
I glanced up. “You did?”
“Yes. It’s hosted at USC this summer, focused on applied mathematics and engineering. They only accept eight students nationally, so it’s unlikely I’ll be selected. But my teacher encouraged me to apply, so I did. However, I didn’t mention it to Mother. I didn’t want her to worry about the cost unless I was accepted.”
“How much is it?”
“Fifty-eight hundred dollars.”
I nodded slowly, filing that away. There was no way Esme could come up with that money. But Gillian and Alex might offer to pay it. If Esme agreed, which was debatable. She might accept it if she knew it was for Robbie, but, still, it would hurt her pride.
Trevor let out a low sigh and flopped back down on the floor, chin on his paws, as if he knew how problematic fifty-eight hundred dollars was for Esme.
“And the other thing?” I asked.
“You and my mom.”
I braced myself. “Yeah?”
“Tyler and Annie told me not to ask you. They said to stay out of it.” He looked up. “But I would like to understand the truth. Are you in love with my mother?”
I stared at him. His expression was completely neutral, like he’d asked what time it was.
Should I lie to him? No, I couldn’t do it. Not to Robbie.“Yes. I am.”
“Does she know?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because—” I stopped. How did I explain this to a fourteen-year-old? “It’s complicated.”
“Is it because you don’t think you’re good enough for her? Because of your father? Or is it because you no longer have money?”
I drew in a sharp breath. Robbie was on a tear this afternoon. “Both.”
“I observed your behavior the other night when she went on the date with Mark. You were agitated. You kept looking at your watch. You asked me four times if I thought she should be home yet. You mumbled about hoping she was safe with him. Then I learned about your father and what he did. It was logical to conclude that shame about your family history is preventing you from pursuing a relationship with my mother.”
I rubbed my face with both hands.
“Which, by the way, is illogical,” Robbie said. “Thinking your father’s actions determine your worth. They don’t. You’re not him.”
“I know that. Intellectually. But emotionally it’s harder to believe.”
“I understand.” He finished his soup, set the spoon down carefully in the bowl. “Madison’s shoes are too small.”
“They are?”
“Yes, they hurt her feet. She told me two weeks ago. She hasn’t told Mother.” His voice stayed even. “She said she doesn’t want to worry her.”
My jaw clenched.
“She’s walking around in shoes that hurt her feet,” Robbie said. “I wonder if that was one of the reasons she fell from the monkey bars.”
How had I let this happen? I should have been watching more carefully. I could have bought Madison a new pair of shoes.
“And now there’s a hospital bill,” Robbie said. “My father will be useless, as usual. So Mother will have to figure out something, which she always does, but it’s hard on her. I hear her crying sometimes.”
