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“Okay…” She squinted at me as though trying to figure out the lie before I could tell her.
“You’ll understand once you’ve got the whole story. Just trust me.” My apologetic scrunchy face intensified. “And I also told Michael to let you come alone. Your dad asked me to talk to you about something important, and I thought it would be best if it was just the two of us.”
“Well, you’d better not have been lying about brunch, because I’m starving.” She pushed back the hood of the seat and unsnapped Olivia’s buckles.
I edged her slightly out of the way. “I’ll hold her while you eat.”
“I’m not eating yet,” Emma said.
“I’m going to pretend not to hear you and take technical grandma privileges.” I lifted Olivia gingerly. She was still so small, despite the weight she’d gained in the two weeks since she’d been born.
“You’re remarkably calm for someone who’s getting married on Saturday,” Emma observed. “I have to say, I was shocked to hear that you wanted to get together.”
“It’s your father who’s pulling his hair out. Which seems weird, because he’s at least done this before.” I cooed down at Olivia. Her big blue eyes blinked up at me. She seemed surprisingly critical, for a baby.
As we walked to the kitchen, Emma said, “You should have seen him before the first one. I was actually concerned that he might leave Elizabeth at the altar, he was so jumpy.” She considered a moment, holding the door open so Olivia and I could pass through. “Of course, with the way things worked out, maybe it would have been a good idea.”
“Nah. Your dad loved Elizabeth.” I had to grind the words out. Of all the partners from Neil’s past, Elizabeth was on the one I was most jealous of. She knew what it was like to be married to Neil, and that irrationally irked me. “I met her.”
“What?” Emma made a beeline for the hummus platter on the island. She shoved a baby carrot into her mouth before she asked, “When?”
“We were out shopping for baby stuff. Which was, like, the worst time to run into her.” I brightened. “She’s pregnant, though! Or, maybe she’s already had the baby, I have no idea. I didn’t ask her due date.”
“She did. She emailed me.” Emma went to the cooler for a water. “She wants to stay in touch, but after what my dad went through…”
“No, I get it, totally.” I gestured to the platter with my head. “Grab that, and we’ll eat in the living room.”
“Eating in the living room? Ooh, Dad will be furious,” Emma snarked as she followed me out. I held the door for her with my foot.
“Don’t tell him, but I painted my nails in here once.” I shifted Olivia to my shoulder, one hand over the back of her wobbly little head. I sat in Neil’s favorite chair, and Emma settled on the couch, criss-cross applesauce with the plate of hummus and veggies balanced on her knees.
“All right,” Emma said, taking another bite of carrot. “What is this big, important thing you’ve all been conspiring to tell me?”
It was terrible, knowing that I was about to give her some potentially very upsetting news while she sat there looking so relaxed. What was worse was that even though I’d carefully considered how I should tell her, my mental script suddenly seemed in dire need of a rewrite. Luckily, the fact that Elizabeth had come up gave me a much more natural way of beginning a difficult conversation. “So…speaking of Elizabeth… Remember how your mom told her that your dad was bisexual and he’d slept with your uncle Stephen?”
“Yeah?” She scooped up some hummus on a slice of jicama.
“Well, she wasn’t trying to sabotage your dad’s wedding. She told Elizabeth because it’s true.”
Emma froze mid-chew.
I couldn’t stand the silence, so I went on, “I mean, maybe she was trying to sabotage. I don’t know, you’d have to ask her. But that’s not the important part. The important part is that your dad really is bisexual, and he really did used to sleep with your uncle Stephen.”
She blinked, and her jaw worked slowly. With a painful-looking swallow, she choked out, “Well. I’m not sure why I need to know that, but…thank you?”
“There’s more. That’s just the first part.” I refrained from saying, “It only gets worse.” I patted Olivia’s back and smoothed her little pink romper. “The thing with your dad and Stephen ended badly. And, now, your uncle has written his book—”
“Mom mentioned that,” Emma interjected. “I take it the book has something in it about Dad?”
“Yes. And your father would rather you not read it.” I shifted uncomfortably. “It’s not an entirely truthful account.”
Emma nodded, still looking shell-shocked. “Okay. Dad and Uncle Stephen dated. That’s incredibly weird. The fact that my dad is bisexual and has been apparently since the nineteen eighties—”
“Probably his whole life, Emma,” I corrected her.
She rolled her eyes. “Pardon my poor phrasing, Sophie, but I am learning some very shocking family secrets at the moment. Why didn’t Dad ever say anything? I understand why he wouldn’t want to tell me about Uncle Stephen, of course, but he never brought any men home, if he was dating them.”
“According to Neil, he didn’t bring home anyone he wasn’t very serious about. He dated a lot more than you realize.” My own words stunned me into realization. My mom had probably vetted her dates the same way Neil had, with regard to Emma. When my mom had brought home a guy, had it been because it was someone she was really into? A guy who’d had permanent potential? I’d run all those men off.
