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This wasn’t some beautiful love story. It was depressing and sad, and the idea of him loving her and staring across at her for his entire life made me nearly sick with rage at my own father. Until I couldn’t stand being around him while he faked some strange happiness in my presence, then went home to be alone forever like some sick curse.
“I should—”
“Sorry I’m late,” Rhys says, dimples gleaming as he slides into the seat next to us, straightening the suit coat he’s wearing.
“How is everyone?” Anna asks, eyes softening at the sight of her son. “Oliver? Liam? Sadie?”
“All good,” he promises, leaning over the back of his chair to order a Coke. “Promise. Liam and Oliver are playing video games, and Sadie made pancakes for dinner for them all.”
Anna grins brighter. “I swear if that girl tries to clean my kitchen this time . . .”
“And how is my son?” Max asks, his eyes intent on Rhys.
Rhys nods, making stern eyes toward his father. “All good. Promise.”
I’m grateful for the confirmation, too—because where I used to pride myself on being able to read Rhys, knowing my best friend inside and out, I’d failed him again.
“I understand,” I’d told him, eyes watering, the morning after he’d gotten hammered and locked himself in a bathroom until Sadie came for him. “If you’d told us, told me, we could’ve helped. Things would’ve been different.” It was all I’d dared to share, because part of me didn’t want Rhys to know how well I understood—not just in an empathetic way, but in a way that explained how I felt all the time. Sad and angry and scared in a swirling mix. Like I was screaming underwater for years, and no one could hear me.
It’s difficult for me to read people anyway, especially if they wanted to hide something from me.
It was the same with Paloma. I’d failed to see what was wrong and lost her for it.
Part of me feels like I’ve lost Rhys, too, in some ways.
“We told Sadie and the boys about the gala,” Anna says, her eyes shining like stars. “They were the ones to pick the charity, actually. So it’ll be a whole family affair.”
“For us, too,” my dad mutters, gulping back a heavy swing of his wine. He gives me an apologetic smile before adding, “Helen is coming. She’s bringing Ethan.”
Max’s brow wrinkles. “I thought they got divorced.”
“They did,” he says. “Apparently, they’re close again. Not sure. Helen just wanted me to know that she was coming and that she was bringing him.”
My dad has never liked Ethan, though I never minded him. After a few arguments about him when Ethan was still married to my mom, we’d decided not to discuss it.
“Should we get you a hot date, then, Adam?” Anna smirks.
“Are you offering, Trouble?” he teases back, and Max laughs, shaking his head.
“Whatever you think you’re doing to charm my wife,” Max cuts in, “it won’t work. Besides, you might have the looks and the bank account, but I have a better superpower.” He leans closer to her, his voice dropping to whisper some long Russian phrase just loud enough for us to hear.
“Oh, god, I’m going to be sick,” Rhys says. “Forget ordering, I’m losing my appetite.”
It’s a joke, but I want to wring his neck. To remind him how blessed he is to have two parents who love each other in that way. To point him toward the yearning expression on my father’s face as he watches his best friends embrace.
Instead, I look at the menu and try to figure out what I can eat that won’t make me feel sicker through this entire dinner. Food has always been a comfort for me, but maybe I’m losing that, too. Just like everything else in my life that I love.
Chapter 22
NOW
Paloma
“What about—”
“We cannot get both of those.” I feel like a bad parent denying her, but the two brightly colored marshmallow cereal boxes in her hands are the same—one of them is just an off-brand. I point to one. “Just get those, they’re better. Now focus, we need meals. Real food.”
Lily grimaces but nods, stepping beside me next to the cart.
