But my parents don’t. Although I am sure they can sense something.
“Alright,” Mom says, “What’s going on?”
I look down at my plate. “I need to tell you something about Everett and what’s been going on.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “That sounds serious.”
“It kind of is.”
I tell them everything.
Sydney calling.
The daughter.
The paternity test.
The theater conversation.
By the time I finish, the table has gone quiet.
Mom blinks slowly. “He might have a three-year-old daughter?” she asks like she is double checking to make sure she heard right.
“Yes,” I respond.
Dad has a serious face, he’s taking the information in. “That’s a lot for anyone to process.”
“That’s what I said,” Rose adds.
Mom reaches for my hand. “And how are you feeling about it?”
“I don’t care that he has a daughter. It was the lack of communication when we were starting something that bothers me the most. How am I supposed to know that he isn’t going to retreat like this next time he gets some big life-changing news?”
Dad nods. “That’s a very honest answer, and the truth is you don’t, but if this relationship is worth fighting for, which I think it might be by the way you are reacting and how much you seem to like him, you just have to trust that he has learned from his mistake and he won’t do it again.”
I exhale slowly. “I do really like him.”
That part was becoming impossible to deny.
Mom grins. “That much was obvious from the first time you mentioned his name a couple of months ago.”
I blink. “You noticed?”
“All mothers notice those things,” she says.
Dad chuckles. “She’s not wrong.”
I rub my thumb against my wine glass. “I just don’t know if I’m ready for…all of that.”
“Meaning?” Dad asks.
“A child, a complicated past, everything changing so fast,” I explain.
“Let me ask you something,” Mom says.
“Okay.”
“If Everett didn’t have a daughter…would you still want to be with him?”
