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He shrugs, staring at nothing for a moment. “No. And I doubt the church will let her.”
The church.
My skin tightens, anger simmering within me. “Like they haveanyright to say what happens between you.”
He shrugs again, sipping at his tea. “They only hold as much power as she lets them, dear, and you know she would jump off a cliff if they told her to.”
It’s the first time I’ve heard Dad speak so negatively about the church. I set down my teacup, twisting my hand so I’m the one holding him. “Isn’t there something you could do? A lawyer you could speak to? I mean, it can’t just—”
“What’s the point, Evie?” When he looks up at me, his brown eyes are filled with sadness. “I’ve never loved a woman like I did your mother. And I never will again. We had many, many glorious years together. I’d die a happy man if those were the only ones I was meant to have.”
My heart breaks for him then, my chest tightening up, and for a moment I can’t breathe.
I never knew he felt that way about Mom. I guess it explains why he put up with her bullshit for so long. I never could understand why he didn’t just leave her.
But hedidleave.
“Why did you bring us here?”
Dad looks up at me like he wasn’t expecting the question. “You know why, Evie.”
“I mean… why did you decide to leave? If you really love her that much, why—”
He catches hold of my thumb. “I loveyoumore.” His smile turns fond, then sad. “I couldn’t stand hearing her say those terrible things about you.”
I shift in my seat, wincing. Dad misunderstands and gives me another squeeze. “The church blew everything out of proportion. You do realize that, don’t you?”
My cheeks start warming up. I don’t like the direction this conversation is headed. Not one bit. I pull my hand away, taking a gulp of tea. “It doesn’t change what happened.”
Dad pulls his hand away. “No. It doesn’t.” He sighs heavily, rubbing at his eyes. I watch him for a second before downing the rest of my tea. It’s still too hot and hurts, but I welcome the scorch down my throat. It feels… cleansing.
“I have a lot of schoolwork to do,” I tell him, sliding off the barstool. “I should head back to the campus and—”
“Let me,” he says, waving a hand in my direction as he goes to fetch my backpack. “You know, Evie, it’s not a nice thing to discuss, but the therapist did suggest we should have a joined session sometime this month.”
I look away, staring moodily into my empty cup.
That fucking therapist will be the death of me.
Not only is she nosy, but all she seems to care about is opening old wounds and digging around until you pass out from the pain. If it hadn’t meant so much to my dad, I’d never even have gone to see her. Some things are private for a reason.
“In fact, if you can make it here next weekend, I’d like to—”
When my father stops talking mid-sentence, I turn to look in his direction. He has his back to me, one strap of my backpack in his hand.
I shoot to my feet when I see the pile of things lying on the carpet. IknowI closed the zipper all the way. Was he snooping?
“You need a new bag,” he says absently, bending to pick up my things. “This one’s falling apart.”
Oh, my God.
I felt something rip when I yanked it out of Kat’s car, but I’m sure there wasn’t a gaping hole in the bottom. I rush over, and see my dad’s standing on one end of the adjustable strap. It must have torn even more when he tried to lift it.
“That’s okay.” I dive to my knees, scooping up as much as I can into my arms. In my haste, the book I’d had wrapped up in the sweater falls out and hits the carpet with a thump.
Dad reaches it before I do. “You’re still writing in this?” he asks, turning the diary over in his hand. “I’m so glad. The therapist said—”
I snatch it from him, burying it in the bundle in my arms. “That’s private.”
