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“So, Dad…” Conor sits up straight, setting his beer on the table.
My heart hammers like a pagan war drum, and I gulp down my wine. This is it. We’re going to tell my dad. My heart is fracturing as I take one last look at him before he knows, then I stare at my lap.
“The reason Mom isn’t here,” Conor starts. “She, um…”
“I know you’re having your differences, Ky. She’s been so stressed out these last few weeks without you. I wish you’d just talk to her.”
“That’s not it, Dad,” Conor continues and glances in my direction.
The hurt has to be overwhelming Conor, and he’s always been there for me. It’s time I don’t let him handle everything in my stead. We’re both adults now.
“Dad, um…a few weeks ago, I went to one of the weddings for Mom. And I had to stop by the office to grab something I forgot beforehand. Mom was there.”
He shakes his head. “I keep telling her to stop working so much, but who am I to talk? With my cases, I’m at the office at all hours.”
Listening to him defend her nearly breaks my heart.
“Yeah, no. That’s not it.”
“Sorry you guys were brought up by two workaholics.” Dad chuckles.
“That’s not it,” Conor says and nods in my direction.
I suck in a breath and let it trickle out slowly. “She was with another man, Dad.”
He’s looking at me, but I don’t think he’s really seeing me. He’s processing what I just said. Trying to decipher what exactly it is I’m saying. “Another man?”
“They were…” I swallow past the Sahara Desert that is my throat. “Kissing.”
“Oh.” He puts his beer on the table.
None of us say anything. He stares at the floor while Conor and I glance at one another, unsure what to do from here.
“I’m sorry you saw that,” he says.
I’m not sure how to take that. Did he already know? Maybe just suspect something was going on?
“I need to talk to your mom.”
He’s so calm, but this is where Conor gets it from. Dad’s going to process this and dissect it like he does his cases at work. He’s always told us never to draw conclusions before looking at the facts.
“Did you know him?” he asks, and his jaw clenches.
“No,” I say with tears in my eyes. “Dad, I’m so sorry.” I slide to the end of the couch and lean forward to take his hand. “I can’t believe she did this.”
He squeezes my hand and stands. “Thank you for telling me, Kyleigh.” I hate hearing him using my full name. “I know this couldn’t have been easy for you two.”
I stand and wrap my arms around him, pressing my cheek into his chest and wishing I could do something other than be the bearer of bad news. He runs his hand up and down my back as ifhe’sconsolingme. I step back, and he heads over to Conor, hugging him.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Conor mumbles.
Then Dad walks toward my apartment door.
“You don’t want to stay for pizza?” I ask.
“Ky,” Conor says.
Dad turns around with his hand on the doorknob. “No pizza tonight, kiddo. I have to figure this out with your mom, but what’s happened doesn’t change the fact that she’s your mother.”
