Wes must feel me drowning in them because he reaches for my hand. “How about a cup of coffee, yeah? Then we can sit and talk.” His eyes bore into mine, asking me questions that I can’t even begin to answer.
“Yeah. Yeah, coffee would be good.”
With one more look toward my dad, one lone tear sliding down his cheek, I turn and walk to the kitchen. Wes’s hand held tight in mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Joss
Coffee was a good idea. The hot cup in my hands warms me from the outside as each sip of hot creamy liquid works its magic from the inside. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see both milk and sugar nestled amongst Wes’s things in the kitchen, even though he doesn’t use them. I swear his thoughtfulness knows no bounds. He didn’t lie either about touching me as often as possible. Even though my parents’ view of the kitchen was limited, he still had a hand on me at all times in some way or another.
Now we’re sitting in the chair across from my parents, Wes having pulled me down into his lap unapologetically. I don’t know if it’s just because he wants the excuse to touch me or if it’s for moral support, but either way, I’m not complaining.
The awkward silence stretches between us, and I can’t take it any longer. I know there’s more to this visit, and I’m ready to have it all out in the open.
“Mom, why are you really here? It’s been seven years. Why now?”
She glances at her hands, then to my dad.
“Seven years?” Confusion distorts his features, and his eyes bounce between us.
“Andrea, why didn’t you tell me?”
Of course she didn’t. Well, I think it’s high time he understood just what he left me to deal with when he hightailed out of his marriage. Out of our family. Out of my life.
“I’m not surprised.” I rub at my temples, resigned to the direction this conversation is going. I ignore my mom, her eyes pleading with me not to continue. I stopped caring about what she wanted a long time ago. I want to see the look on my dad’s face when he finally sees the fruit of his actions. “After you left, Mom moved us around a lot. From place to place, man to man. To whoever would take us, since you weren’t there to provide for her lifestyle anymore.”
The color drains from his face with every word I say, a twisted look of agony wrecking it until he finally moves his eyes to my mother.
“Each guy was worse than the last. I don’t know if that trajectory has continued over the last seven years though. We haven’t so much as spoken since her last visit to Sydney.” I finally look at my mom. Her face is beet red and tinged with anger. This interaction is not going the way she’d intended, but she seems incapable of speaking. “The one where she and the man she brought with her pilfered my home and stole everything they could get their hands on.”
Aside from my heart pounding in my ears, there’s not a sound in the room. I never understood the phrase “the silence was deafening” until this moment. The quiet is full of swirling emotions: anger, betrayal, hurt, shock. I’m sitting in the eye of a tornado, knowing everything will implode the second the storm shifts.
“Andrea. Tell me this isn’t true? Tell me you didn’t steal from your own daughter? From our daughter.” His voice is calm but his face is ghostly pale, like he might be sick. I can’t blame him. When I walked into my apartment that day, I barely made it to the toilet before I lost the contents of my stomach. Oddly reminiscent of today, actually.
“You—you don’t understand. He wasn’t a good man, Joss,” she pleads, and the glistening in her eyes indicates real emotion, but I’ve seen her crocodile tears more than enough times to remember what a good actress she can be. “I didn’t know who he really was until it was too late. I didn’t know he was going to do that, but I couldn’t stop him either. You have to believe me.”
No matter what excuses she comes up with, it will never be enough. Not after all this time.
“You know, Mom, this would have been a good conversation to have seven years ago. A call, an apology, an explanation… It would have gone a long way. But now, it feels like too little too late.”
“You don’t mean that. I’m your mother. It’s never too late.” She swipes at her face. A face that looks so much older, yet very much the same. A face I’ve let myself forget for so long. A face that should have brought me comfort but never did.
“Being my mother doesn’t mean that I owe you my peace or my happiness.”
I lean into Wes, the only person I’ve felt those things with in a long time, and he presses a soft kiss to my shoulder. He’s been a silent support until now, but I feel him shift behind me and I can sense he’s about to become a more active participant. I turn my head, anticipation coursing through me when I catch the expression on his face. His eyes are full of fire as he watches my parents, his lips a hard line.
“Andrea. Brian. Joss asked you a question when you arrived, and I haven’t heard an answer. What is it that you’re here for?” His grip tightens on me as he continues. “You should be able to understand her wariness after your last visit, Andrea. And Brian, you may be her father, but she doesn’t know you anymore, and you don’t know her either. She deserves some answers. Otherwise, you can see yourselves out.”
Hot damn. This man and his ability to control a situation. It’s just like when he talked to my mom on the phone and put her right in her place. I lean in and press a kiss to the underside of his stubbled jaw—a silent thank-you passing between us. Both my parents look completely stunned to be spoken to this way, and I wonder who will crack first under his steely gaze.
Mom’s eyes lock on her lap, where she’s fiddling with the hem of her jumper, much like I do when I’m anxious. I hate that even my nervous tics come from her.
“Joss, honey, I understand you being angry about what happened with Bill. I am sorry for how everything transpired and that I was never brave enough to try to fix it,” she says, addressing her hands. “Your dad and I want to try to make everything rightbetween us. We’ve all made mistakes, but we’re hoping there’s a way forward.”
I have to hold back a retort questioning what mistakesI’vemade, but I need to let them finish. And if I’m honest, that’s more of an apology than I ever expected from her. With the way my dad bristles at her words though, I don’t think he likes her talking for him—not now that he knows everything.
“I owe you an apology too, Joss.” The halo of silver tears reappears in his eyes as he keeps them locked on mine, and I couldn’t look away if I tried. “I should have never left the way I did. I should have kept in touch. I should have explained myself. I should have done a lot of things.” He lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck, anguish and shame on his face. “But I did love you. Idolove you. I always wanted to do right by you. That’s why I’m here.”
