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“Don’t make me ask,” I whisper, my voice only a little bit shaky.
My dad stares straight ahead, and my mom swallows. “Georgie. Honey. Your father and I have decided to get a divorce.”
My shoulders slump a little in relief. They’re not sick. Not dying. But the relief is short-lived as reality sinks in. Even though on some horrible, in-denial level I’ve known it was coming, it’s still a shock.
“No,” I say. “Why?” I clench my hands in my lap, embarrassed that my eyes are watering like I’m six instead of twenty-six.
My mom forces a smile, but it doesn’t even remotely reach her eyes. “Sometimes—”
I lift my hand. “Please. Please do not tell me that sometimes people just drift apart.”
Mom’s lips press together. “Jack,” she snaps. “A little help?”
My father clears his throat, finally looking at me, and I feel my chin wobble when I see that his eyes are brimming. “I don’t know, Georgie. I just…”
He lifts a hand, running it over his face, and his reaction tells me everything I need to know.
My gaze flicks back to my mother, and though she doesn’t look unaffected, she’s nowhere near as broken by this as he is. “Did you already file?”
She looks away, likely noticing that I’m directing the question to her. Knows that I know exactly who’s driving this divorce.
“So what happens next?” I ask. “This is just…the end of the family?”
“Georgie—”
“What?” I snap, pushing out of my chair and standing. I know I’m being immature, but I just…I want them to be in love like they used to be. At least I thought they were. Or did I just see it all through a child’s eyes?
“Did you even try?” I ask, my voice breaking.
There’s a long moment of silence, and then it’s my dad who speaks. “Georgie, I know this hurts, but you know that even if your mother and I have decided we’re better off without each other, neither of us is walking away from you.”
“Never,” my mom says emphatically.
I wipe at my eyes. I know it’s supposed to make me feel better, but all I can think is that there will be no more Sunday brunches with the three of us. No more family walks down Fifth Avenue at Christmas, or them hosting their epic Oscars party, or summer weekends in the Hamptons…
None of it. It’s all over.
“Sweetie, sit down, please. I ordered some cinnamon rolls. Your father and I thought maybe we could brainstorm some ways that you can get quality time with each of us, and—”
I shake my head, taking a step forward. “Too soon, Mom. Way too soon for that.”
“Georgie—”
“No,” I say, my voice sharp, as I look at my dad. “I don’t know how long you’ve had to adjust to this information, but I need a bit more time before I can talk about it like a rational adult. Just…some space. Okay?”
Neither of them says a word as I walk out of the dining room. I grab my purse and dash out of their apartment, my mood having done a complete one-eighty from what it was when I walked into the room just a few minutes earlier.
A few minutes, really? It feels like years.
Or maybe that’s just because I feel years older.
I wipe my nose on the back of my hand as I burst out onto the sidewalk. I immediately head for home, pulling out my cellphone, thinking that I’ll text Marley. But suddenly I stop.
Texting Marley is what I would have done a few weeks ago. Right now, though, I need someone else. My heart knows that being held by Andrew is the only thing that can possibly fix me.
I make it home, fueled by fury and heartache, and I skip my apartment altogether, going straight to his. Sometimes I stop at the front desk and request his guest key (he put me on his approved list, which is sort of romantic), but I’m too distracted to do that now, so instead I find myself pounding on the door with frantic, open-palmed slaps until he pulls it open.
“Georgiana, what—”
