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“Is that why you were on the psychotropic train to Blissville?”
The suggestion of a resigned smile crossed his face. “I needed to feel something. And to not feel anything.”
“Not what you were feeling before. I get it.” I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Your mother loved you so much.”
“She did.” He put his arm around me and squeezed me to his side.
“It’s okay if you’re still in shock. There aren’t any rules for how to grieve.” I wished I was better at comforting people. “You can’t beat yourself up over what you’re not feeling. Especially when you know that, eventually, you’ll get there.”
He kissed the top of my head. “Thank you for being sensible when I can’t.”
“And thank you for being sensible enough to get some counseling.” There. I was being so earnest he’d have to go through with it.
Neil stood and took a few unsteady steps. “Oh dear god, the head rush.”
I started to get up to rescue him, but he straightened out on his own, albeit staggering like a sailor. He dragged his hands down his face. “You’re right, Sophie. I have been incredibly stupid.”
“Your equilibrium is punishing you worse than I ever could,” I chirped happily.
There was a knock at the door, and Michael asked, “Mr. Elwood, can I speak to you?”
“Come in,” Neil called, straightening his shirt and combing his fingers through his mussed hair.
Michael entered and quietly closed the door, but he kept his hand on the handle. “Are you a little more together now?”
“Yes. And thank you, Michael, for helping Sophie—”
“I wasn’t helping Sophie,” Michael interrupted. It took me a second to figure out what was off about him. Michael was angry. We’d never seen it before.
I wondered if Neil even recognized it yet.
“I was helping you,” Michael went on, with the calm, controlled anger of Tom Cruise learning he’s been betrayed in a movie. “I was helping you so that your daughter, my wife, who is carrying the baby we worked incredibly hard to conceive, isn’t subjected to any more stress than she’s already under from the death of her grandmother.”
Neil said nothing. Though his face didn’t give it away, I knew he had to be shocked at this, coming from Michael.
After his initial outburst, he was much more subdued. “Look, I understand you’re hurting. And I’m probably being overprotective—”
“Neil wouldn’t know anything about that,” I said, forcing a laugh that earned me two very terse looks. If Neil could have sent me a mental message, it would have been something like, “Sophie, now is not the time.”
I was pretty sure those were the exact words in his head at that moment.
Michael went on. “If I’m being overprotective, it’s because I love her. And she’s been disappointed so many times. I couldn’t take it if—”
“It’s understood,” Neil said uncomfortably. “And you’re right. I’ve acted very selfishly.”
“Emma’s going to be fine,” I assured both of them. “God, you guys treat pregnant women like they’re made out of glass. We don’t have to lie to her about this. If she asks what’s going on, we’ll tell her.”
“No, we won’t,” Neil said firmly.
“So, we’re just going to keep it this weird family secret, then? The time Daddy almost ODed at Grandma’s funeral? That sounds like a really bad country song.” I looked to Michael. “You don’t have to march in there, right now, and wake her up and tell her all this. Neil’s going to get treatment, and he can tell Emma, then. He’s going to need support, and she’s going to need to know what’s up with her dad. Under no circumstances are the two of you to conspire to keep her in the dark because of your crazy, overprotective man-vibes.”
“I think Sophie’s solution sounds pretty sensible, don’t you?” Michael asked Neil.
“Yes, well, Sophie is often sensible,” he grumbled in reply. “Yes, fine. When we get back to New York, I’ll sit down with her and discuss it.”
“At least you can see that you have a problem,” Michael said with a look of empathy. “You hid it really well.”
“You hid it really well from me,” I added softly.
