Page 85 of The Awful Truth

“I’m here, Quinn. Did you hear something about Dad?”

She let out a sob, and in Antonia’s mind, she could picture her at six years old. “It was on TMZ just now, and it’s all over my phone. All my friends are texting me. He couldn’t have done what they’re saying he did, right? That’s some sort of fake video.”

“I’m sorry, Quinn. It’s real,” she answered, her own voice wobbly.

“Oh, Mom!” She started to sob uncontrollably, and Antonia wished with everything in her she could be there to hold her. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m just fine, sweetheart.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise. Your dad is in a lot of trouble, and it’s going to take us all a long time to make our way through this, but we can do it. We will do it.”

Her daughter cried some more, then finally said something else. “I want to come home. This just hurts so, so much and I need to see you with my own eyes and hug you and cry with you.”

“I need that too. Why don’t I find you a flight home as soon as possible?”

“It’s okay. I’ll figure it out. You’ve got enough to deal with right now. Does Xavier know?”

“If he doesn’t, I’m assuming he’ll find out as soon as he wakes up.”

“Call him, Mom. Right now. Wake him up.” she said. “Don’t let him find out the way I did.”

“I will, sweetie, but I want to make sure you’ll be all right first.”

“I won’t, but I’ll see you really soon.”

“Okay, my girl. I love you so much, Quinn. We’re going to be all right. It’ll take time, but we’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.”

“I know it.”

They said a few more tearful goodbyes and I love yous, then Antonia hung up. Taking a deep breath, she dialed her son’s number, preparing herself to break his heart.

THE DAY AFTER THE INCIDENT

“A scheme of which every part promises delight, can never be successful.” ~ Jane Austen

8:59 P.M. — THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 13

PETRA

“My darling, why don’t you go put your feet up and watch TV?” Henrik said to his wife as soon as Vita, Tomislav, and the children had left. “Petra and I can take care of the dishes.”

Hermina gave him a grateful smile while Petra’s nose wrinkled up at her father.

“Are you sure?” Hermina asked.

“Yes, you’ve been on your feet all day making that beautiful meal,” he said, ushering her into her armchair. He’d been doing this more often since he retired — finding little thoughtful ways to show his wife he appreciated her. “Now, you relax and we’ll take care of everything.”

“I’m really quite tired myself,” Petra said. “Long day with the big case and all.”

“But at least you were at a desk,” Henrik answered, handing her mother the remote control. “Come on. If we work together, it’ll be nothing. Besides, I need to have a talk with you.”

Petra’s heart beat a little faster as she followed him to the kitchen. She tried to see if she could detect any signs that he was upset with her. Other than that one hard look he gave her when she first got home, he seemed fine. He plugged the sink, squirted in some soap, and turned on the hot water. Then Henrik rolled up the sleeves of his cream-colored, button-down shirt while he waited for the sink to fill. Petra loaded as many bowls and plates as she could fit in the dishwasher while her father dropped the ladle, the bread knife, and the cutting board into the water.

He plunged his hands in and got to work on the ladle. “Petra, have I been a good father?”