Page 59 of Book Club Confidential

“You missed Christmas.” Her cheeks heated with equal parts indignation and embarrassment. She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, but she realized in the moment she was still hurt by the fact that he’d promised to come, then he simply hadn’t shown.

“Tess,” her dad warned.

“Sorry,” she said. “Yes, it has been a while.”

“Devin would’ve been here if he could have,” their dad said.

“Well,” she said. “It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks. You too.” Devin shucked the jacket from his shoulders and hung it on the back of a nearby chair. He moved to the cupboards and collected three plates, three bowls, and three glasses. “I guess Dad told you about what happened with me.”

She watched him carry the dinnerware into the adjoining dining room and set the table.

Her dad glanced in her direction without saying a word.

Tessa let her eyes shut for a moment. She grounded herself by her senses, the way she did when she ran. She smelled the fried chicken and rigatoni, heard the sounds of her childhood home at dinnertime, felt the warmth of the kitchen, heated by a full oven.

“You all right?” Devin asked. He stood empty handed before her.

She nodded, and he stepped around her on his return trip to the kitchen.

The heroine of her story would find peace for her future and release the frustrations of her past. She’d know she couldn’t change the past, nor could she control what anyone other than herself chose to do, say, think, or feel. She’d heal. Choose peace. And move on.

“I’m good,” she said. She forced her shoulders to lower, releasing tension from her neck and back. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I think we’ve got it covered,” her dad said.

The men worked in tandem, as if they’d done this dozens of times before.

Dad removed a tray of rigatoni from the oven, then a sheet of dinner rolls as well.

Devin pulled a pretossed salad from the refrigerator and added a large pair of tongs to the bowl. “You still like ranch,” he said.

“Who doesn’t?” Dad asked.

Devin laughed. “Based on the thirty-two-ounce bottle in the fridge, you’re this dressing’s biggest fan.”

Tessa waited awkwardly, wanting to be useful without any idea how. “You should let me do something,” she said. “Can I open the wine?”

Their dad stilled, briefly exchanging an odd look with her brother.

“It’s fine,” Devin said. “Pick your favorite.”

Tessa moved to the cabinet where bottles of wine collected dust in wait for family dinner nights.

“Hon,” Dad said, meeting her at the counter as she opened the walnut door. “I don’t have any wine right now.”

She sensed the warning in his tone and turned to see Devin look away.

“I told him not to worry about it,” her brother said. “I’m fine.”

They’d all heard that before, but there had always been wine at dinner.

She opened the cupboard and stared at the empty shelves. Their dad had removed every bottle. “No problem.” She had an absentee, alcoholic mother. She’d seen all the flashing neon signs warning of the same disease in her little brother. But this was the first time anyone acknowledged it in any real way.

And Dad had never gotten rid of the wine.

His movements were tight as he fussed with the meal. He’d spent the last twenty years trying to save a boy who wound up just like his first wife, even after he’d given his heart and soul to the task.