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When I nodded, he gave me one last grin. “In that case, Lady Victoria, I bid you good night.”
We’d speak a few more times after that—me sneaking out of the house whenever my aunt was gone and making enough noise for him to hear me—but four years’ difference was a big deal back then. I was always a child, and he was always nearly grown.
Everything Ruth had went to me—her way, I think, of apologizing for all those years she spent keeping my father’s secret—and in the end that money helped me pay for college, but I wonder what might have happened if Caleb and I had had the chance to get to know each other as teens, as young adults. If Ruth hadn’t died and if his mom hadn’t sold their house, might something have happened between us? Could we have become the thing I dreamed of as a kid?
Because it still feels like I lost something I was meant to keep.
“Mommy, who’s that guy?” Sophie asks, interrupting my reverie. She is pointing at the dock, where that boy I was meant to keep is climbing off a much nicer boat than ours. He’s in shorts and a t-shirt today, and I stare against my will at his sharp jaw, his hard calves, those corded biceps bigger than my thighs.
I can’t fault the childhood version of me for being tongue-tied the night we met—a whole lot of fully grown women would be tongue-tied faced withthat.
He sets down the big hunk of metal he’s carrying when wepull up and holds out his hand for the rope to help us dock, though it’s clear his assistance is being provided reluctantly.
“Sophie and Henry,” I say, lifting them each from the boat, “this is our neighbor, Mr. Lowell.”
Henry, normally reticent, steps forward and picks up a piece of the metal thing Caleb laid on the dock.
“Henry, stop,” I scold, climbing the ladder after them. He ignores me, grabbing a second piece and fitting it to the first.
“How did you know they went together?” Caleb asks Henry. There’s curiosity, not irritation, in his voice, as if he’s speaking to another adult.
Henry doesn’t answer, but a glimmer of something like a smile passes over his face, and I feel that familiar tightness in my throat, pinching behind my eyes. I want so much for him I could burst with it, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to give him anything at all.
“Do you have kids?” Sophie demands. I’m sure none of this is countering Caleb’s disdain for children.
A muscle flexes in his jaw. “No.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” she barrels on. “My daddy has a girlfriend. Her name is Whitney and she’s still in college. That’s why we live here now.”
Oh, God.
“Who told you that?” I croak, the blood draining from my face.
“Lola,” she chirps in reply. “Her mom said it’s because you’re not the Peach Queen anymore and Daddy wanted a newer model.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I hate that they’re already discussing this at school, and that they’re discussing it with my kids. On a lesser note, I hate that Sophie’s just told my boss.
Caleb’s eyes are wide as he looks from her to me, and I see a hint of the boy I once imagined he was—the one capable ofconcern, of kindness. But it doesn’t even matter if that’s really who he is, and I’ve got much bigger shit to deal with right now.
Without a word to him, I grab Sophie by one hand and Henry by the other and march them both straight to the house.
I take a seat on the ottoman across from them once we’re inside, hesitating before I speak. “I’m sorry you heard Lola say that,” I begin.
Sophie’s head tilts. “But it’s true, right?”
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. I spent my entire childhood wishing I had a father. I chose the wrong one for them, but…he’s still their father and they’ll be dealing with him in some capacity for the rest of their lives. They deserve, as much as possible, to have a relationship with him that isn’t tainted by what he did to me. “Daddy and I just weren’t very happy together.”
Henry sits in my lap and rests his head against my chest, while Sophie frowns, deep in thought. “Is Whitney the Peach Queen now?”
“No,” I say with a sigh. “She isn’t anyone.”
It’s a struggle not to sound bitter, and I guess I don’t quite succeed. Sophie squeezes into my lap beside Henry and places her small hand on my cheek in consolation. “It’s okay, Mommy. I still think you’re pretty.”
8
CALEB
My daddy has a girlfriend.
