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My dad is out front when I park, trimming some of the shrubs that line the path. I showed up extra early intentionally, hoping to talk to my parents alone before Adler got here with his opinions.
“Hello, Papa,” I greet.
He pauses his clipping to kiss both of my cheeks. “How are you, Sophia?”
I exhale. “Okay.”
“How was your trip?”
“Fine.”
As far as my family knows, I spent this past weekend at Fashion Week with my friends.
“Is Mom around?”
“She’s inside.”
He walks up the gravel path with me.
“The yard looks nice.”
Gardening is where my father funneled his attention after retiring and raising two kids. The land surrounding the house where I grew up used to sit mostly empty. Now there are patios and topiaries and gardens.
“Thank you.”
My mom’s in the kitchen, working on dinner. She abandons whatever is in the pot on the stove when I appear, coming over to hug and kiss me.
“How was Fashion Week?” she asks.
I take a deep breath. As good of an opening as any I considered on the drive here. “I didn’t go. I lied.”
“Oh?”
My mom glances at my dad, and they share a silent conversation. I’ve always been pretty honest with them because they allowed me the freedom to mostly do what I wanted to do anyway. There was no need to be duplicitous. And when I did lie, I didn’t admit to doing so.
“I went to Boston with Will Aster.” I pull my phone out of my pocket. “I’m dating him. And I submitted this photo of him to the European Photography Awards, and I was selected as a finalist. The ceremony is in a month, in London, and I’d really like it if you both came with me.”
Total silence follows. My parents exchange another look, this one longer than the last. They don’t look disappointed, at least. Just stunned.
The sound of the front door opening is what interrupts the quiet.
“We’re here!” Saylor’s cheerful voice calls out.
“I’ll be right back,” I say. “I need to talk to Adler for a minute.”
Adler and Saylor are still in the entryway when I walk out of the kitchen. It’s gotten cool enough out for coats, and Gigi is bundled up in a pink corduroy jacket. I kiss her cheek, then hug Saylor.
“I can’t wait to hear all about Fashion Week,” she tells me. “I’m so jealous.”
I hide the grimace, force a smile, and then glance at Adler. “Can I talk to you outside for a minute?”
Saylor’s eyebrows fly upward at the odd request, but she says nothing when Adler nods, just continues toward the kitchen with Gigi.
Adler follows me back out the door, into the front gardens my dad was just manicuring. This is harder to admit to him than it was to my parents. Not only is he more closely connected to Will, he’s never shied away from sharing opinions about my life. When my parents have shaken their heads about me showing up in a short dress, he’s suggested I put on pants. He’s always done his best to look out for me the best way he knew how.
And he has no idea about me and Will, I’m certain. If he did, he would have mentioned it by now. I wasn’t sure exactly when—or how widespread—the announcement about finalists would be, and it’s been hovering over me like a ticking time bomb ever since Will and I returned from Boston.
“I’m dating Will Aster.” I spit it straight out, same as I did with my parents.
