Page 93 of The Moment I Knew

“It was my birthday,” I said, the words finally spilling over. “You’ve missed things before, but you always showed up for that. And you didn’t even tell me why.”

Dad’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked stunned, like this reaction hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility.

Dad leaned back, exhaling. “I honestly didn’t think you’d take it this hard. I figured—you’re older now. You’d understand that sometimes adults have things come up.”

I laughed then. A short, broken sound. “Wow.”

He sat back, clearly scrambling. “Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re hurt. That makes sense. But we can make it up to you.”

I shook my head. “That’s not⁠—”

“What do you want?” he asked quickly. “A new phone? I know yours is old. Or—hey—I could help with that trip you were talking about. Or we could do a really nice dinner. Anywhere you want.”

Each offer landed like a misplaced Band-Aid.

“I don’t want things,” I said quietly. “I wanted you.”

He stared at me, like I’d spoken a different language. “I’m here. I’m trying to give this to you.”

I laughed, sharp and brief. “That’s what you always say.”

“We just need to see each other more!” Dad said, hope shining through his voice. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a car.”

I stared at him. “I just turned sixteen. I don’t even have my learner’s permit yet.”

“Then I’ll take you to get it! We can go now, I’ll pay for the whole thing—the test and the lessons and⁠—”

“I don’t want your money!” I yelled. He recoiled from shock, which was fair—I wasn’t sure I’d ever raised my voice at my dad before now. My voice was thick with tears. “Why can’t you understand that? I don’t want your money, I just wanted you!”

Dad stared at me like I’d slapped him. I breathed hard, for a moment wishing that I’d held back on my words, that I’d found some way to say it without hurting him, but why should I have to? If he hurt me, was it not what he deserved?

“I am here,” he said, louder now, his voice edging toward frustration. “I’m right in front of you. I don’t understand what more you want from me.”

“I wanted you yesterday. I wanted you when I was blowing out my candles and pretending I wasn’t checking the door every five seconds.”

Hilary stood abruptly. “Okay,” she said, hands raised slightly, like she was trying to calm a wild animal. “Maybe we should all just take a breath⁠—”

“No,” I snapped, turning toward her before I could stop myself. “Don’t.”

She froze. Dad shot to his feet. “Hey. Don’t talk to her like that.”

I laughed again, sharp and disbelieving. “Oh, now you’re protecting someone?”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising. “She’s pregnant.”

“And I’m your kid!” I snapped back. “Or does that only matter when it’s convenient?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I just—things are different now. You have to understand that.”

Something cold settled in my chest. “Different how? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re working on building a new family after you blew up your old one.”

His face went pale. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“Is it?” My hands were shaking now, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. “Because it feels pretty accurate.”

Hilary crossed her arms over her stomach, protective. “He’s not replacing you.”

“I’m not looking for an opinion from a home wrecker,” I snarled. She reared back like I’d hit her. Almost immediately, I regretted the words. My anger was with Dad more than it was with her, even if she did drive me absolutely insane, but I didn’t know the story of what happened between them. Maybe she didn’t know.