Page 43 of The Apparent Trap

“Yeah,” she admits. “There’ve been more scandals from news anchors behaving badly than anyone should have to think about.”

“Exactly,” I say, nodding. “So I just . . . I watched them this weekend, and I want so badly to leave it alone and say it’s not my business because they’re two consenting adults. But I just don’t get how neither of them sees how badly this is going to end. They’ve jumped in so headfirst, and the more I see, the clearer it is that it’s not casual, and I seem to be the only one waiting for the inevitable other shoe to drop. For two smart people, they’re really not thinking! And again, it’s like . . . I don’t want to ever assume any woman wants to have kids or should have kids or whatever, but if she does, that’s a problem for both of them! My dad can’t have more kids—”

“Well I think the bigger problem is that biologically he could.”

“Ew, come on, Georgia, that’s my dad!”

“I’m just pointing out other potential problems!” she says. But when she sees the look on my face, she grabs my hand. “Take a deep breath.” I do as she says, and she comes in closer to me, our faces inches away like she’s giving me a pep talk. I hadn’t realized how heated I was getting. “I’m glad you’re letting this out. Okay? This is good. You aren’t obligated to keep people’s secrets when they’re weighing on you too. You’re a good daughter, and beyond that, frankly, you don’t owe Carmen anything. Like, potentially unfairly judgmental age gap thoughts aside, she’s the one who decided to date her producer’s dad. You obviously shouldn’t tell everyone, but you’re allowed to talk things out for yourself too. You don’t have to always solve everybody else’s problems. I’ve got you. And I’m going to try and help, and we’ll go from there. But at the very least, you get to say your feelings out loud, okay?”

I pull her into a bear of a hug. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so grateful for her or I miss my mom or if I feel even guiltier withholding the other half of this confusion soup that’s roiling inside of me.

I flick away another thought, that maybe some of the guilt is also about bringing someone else in without telling Lee.

But I’m not obligated to tell Lee everything I’m doing. And he didn’t even tell me about his ridiculous backfiring Thanksgiving plan. So telling Georgia this part doesn’t hurt anything.

And besides, my loyalty is to my dad first. Saving him from heartbreak, that’s my main priority. And I’m allowed to call in my own reserve troops.

I don’t want to admit that what really has Lee on my mind isn’t just about my dad and Carmen. It’s the him of it all. He’s turned me inside out, and I can’t even explain to my best friend why she’s seeing me backward.

“Are you listening?” Georgia says, and I want to automatically respond no, since that would be the truth.

“I’m sorry,” I say instead.

Georgia rolls her eyes. “I’m literally trying to get you to stop saying you’re sorry and think about yourself for once.”

“I think about myself.”

“Not enough,” she retorts. “And I appreciate that you feel like you can’t talk about all of this without being sort of a gossip. I appreciate that you’re that kind of person. So let’s not talk about them. I just want to hear about you. How are you feeling? Tell me what’s worrying you the most?”

“I never really had to worry about my dad,” I say quietly, uncomfortable with a spotlight. “And I’m realizing maybe we didn’t talk about stuff as much as we should have, even with all the time we spend together.”

“Well, it’s never too late for that part.”

“Yeah,” I reply. But I know I’m not ready to change that much.

“Man, I wonder what Carmen’s parents will think of all this, you know?” Georgia muses. “Thank goodness she’s from California and probably everyone in her life is too far away to find out.”

I nod and grab for a seltzer off my desk. This conversation is too close to the sun.

“Hey, George?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you, seriously, for caring. But I don’t think the middle of the workday is the time to keep talking about this. I’ve gotta get back to my desk.”

She doesn’t miss a beat. She kisses the top of my head. “I know that was a lot of sharing for you for one day,” she says with a chuckle. “You’re released from my probing. We don’t have to talk about it again if you don’t want to. I’m planning to help without involving you anyway.”

I can’t tell if that’s the most comforting or terrifying thought.

I stand up. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“The point of this is to literally do the things you won’t do.”

“You know what I mean.”

She squints melodramatically. “Do I?”

I shake my head and walk out. And I have to admit, I feel lighter.