Florence sniffles. “I was shocked, but he told me his marriage was already over. He was looking to divorce her and he wanted to be with me. He talked and talked about how difficult a decision it was, but that it was worth it for happiness.”
Bitterness grows inside me like a weed. “It washardfor him? It was difficult, was it? To be a decent, loyal man?”
“Love is complicated,” Florence replies. “It’s never simple. Never black and white.”
“Did my mom know? Did she know she was getting divorced before she…” Her face in the hospital bed flashes in my mind and I close my eyes.
“I don’t know,” Florence replies. “Camden would speak like it was already in the works, but he never told me how much she knew. And when I heard about—” Her voice cracks and sheburies her face in her hands. “I can’t believe he’sdead. Who would do such a thing? Who would be so cruel?”
I should comfort her.
Part of me wants to.
Her upset sounds genuine and each soft sob from her feeds into some misplaced guilt inside me that rests like a rock below my ribs. She cared. She really cared.
But he was my dad. He was my mom’s husband. It was my family.
“How long?” I croak. “How long were you two together?”
Florence lifts her head, rapidly wiping at her cheeks. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” A lump forms in my throat. “Tears like that, you know exactly how long.”
She finally looks at me. “Nineteen months and fourteen days.”
I’m on my feet before she’s even finished talking, my legs moving with a will of their own and suddenly, I’m in front of Ruslan. His dark eyes are flooded with concern, but somehow, that look makes me want to claw my skin off.
I can’t breathe.
The room is far too hot.
“Let me out,” I gasp at him. “I need a minute.”
“Don’t leave,” Ruslan instructs as he steps away from the door.
As I pass, his fingers brush against my forearm and it’s a tender touch that almost makes me want to turn around and sink into his arms.
Almost.
Knowing I should stay inside doesn’t stop me from leaving. The walls are closing in with each step, the air grows thicker and my heart races like each step in a mile in a marathon.
How can this be the truth? Nineteen months?
They were together for that long and I never knew. Mom never knew. She couldn’t have.
I gasp as the heat at the back of my neck builds until hot sweat prickles down my spine. I stumble past the security team, out into the store and make a beeline for the door. I don’t stop until I’m out on the sidewalk, gasping in lungfuls of cooler air as a breeze rushes past and catches on my clammy skin.
Did I really know anything about Dad?
“Ivy?”
I lurch suddenly at the sound of my name and glance up as a face swims into view. Against the sunny haze of the street and a backdrop of cars rushing past with windows open against the summer heat stands Moira.
She lifts her shades to rest on top of her head and looks me over with wide eyes.
“Ivy? My God, what’s wrong? Why are you so pale? Are you okay?”
23
