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I wait, hoping he’ll say something else. When he doesn’t, I start wondering if I’ve missed something.
“Are you mad at me?”
He turns immediately. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. You’re being kind of quiet.”
“I’m just trying to get my head around everything.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
I wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t. Eventually, I get up and walk over to him.
“Vince?”
“Hmm?”
“Can I have a hug?”
He looks at me, and there’s something about his expression that makes me wish I hadn’t asked. “Sweetheart . . .”
I step closer anyway and reach for his hand. He lets me take it, but only for a moment before gently withdrawing his fingers.
My stomach drops. “Oh.”
“I’m sorry, Soph.”
I look at him, suddenly afraid to ask the question that’s forming in my mind. “What’s going on?”
He sets his whiskey on the windowsill and turns to face me. “I think we need to talk, honey.”
And just like that, I know. This isn’t about my mother anymore.
Vince looks down at his hands. “Elena coming here today brought some things into focus for me. Things I’ve been trying very hard not to think about.”
“Like what?”
He looks up at me, gray eyes full of concern. “What’s happened between us, Soph. And what I’ve allowed to happen.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “What do you mean, allowed?”
“I should never have let this happen,” he says. “I’m forty-three years old. I’m supposed to be the person you can trust. The person who keeps you safe. And instead I—” He stops. Swallows. “Instead I took you to bed the first chance I got.”
“That’s not how it happened,” I say. “I wanted it. I’ve wanted it for—”
“It doesn’t matter how much you wanted it,” he interrupts, voice firmer. “I was the one responsible for maintaining that boundary. I was supposed to know better. And I didn’t. I let myself want you, and then I let myself have you, and I’ve been pretending that because it feels good and because we’re both consenting adults, that makes it okay. But it doesn’t. Elena walking through that door today made that very clear.”
I stare at him, my chest hurting. “Yesterday you told me you were happier than you’ve been in a long time.”
“I was.” His voice cracks on the word. “I am. That’s the problem, Sophie. I’m happy with you in a way I’ve never been happy with anyone, and it’s wrong. Every single part of it is wrong.”
“Because of Elena?”
“Because of everything. Because of who I am to you. Because of how this started. Because if anyone found out—” He stops. Breathes. “If anyone found out, your life would be ruined. Mine too, probably, but yours matters more. You have your whole life ahead of you, and I will not be the person who takes that from you.”
I feel sick. Actually, physically sick, like my stomach is trying to climb out of my throat. “Is it because I called you Daddy?” The words come out before I can stop them. “During sex. You seemed . . . I don’t know. You seemed like it did something to you, and then afterward you were different, and I thought—”
“No,” he says quickly. “That’s not—it’s not about that. Although yes, that was—” He rubs his hand over his mouth. “Complicated. For obvious reasons. But no. This is about the fact that I crossed a line I never should have crossed, and Elena showing up today was a reminder of just how many lines there are.”
