Chapter 29

Lanie

The cold crept into my car as I sat in my parents’ driveway and stared at their house. I used to think the place was too big, but that was before I had seen Andrew’s home. Now Mom and Dad’s two-story looked modest in comparison.

I pushed my hands between my thighs to keep them warm as I continued to look at the house. The automatic lights in the front had come on, sensing that nighttime was no more than an hour away.

I’d spent half the day trying to forget what I was about to do and the other half walking around the park and talking about it with Erica. Still, the answer remained the same. Honesty was the best policy.

I could just leave. All I have to do is turn my car on and back out of the parking lot. Consequences be screwed.

I knew that was silly, though. Plus, the house’s front door was opening. My mom popped her head out and, seeing me, waved me in.

Plastering a smile on my face, I climbed from the car.

“What are you doing out here?” Mom asked, arms wrapped around herself for warmth.

“I was talking on the phone,” I lied.

Her gaze fell to my oversized sweatshirt. “That’s far too big for you.”

“It’s the style now,” I explained. “It’s supposed to be a little big.”

“Hm,” she sniffed. “Well, come on in. Your father should be back any minute.”

She ushered me inside and to the kitchen, the place that had always been her retreat. Whether she was cooking, baking, or just cleaning and organizing, my mother could often be found in the kitchen. As a kid, I’d spent countless hours sitting at the kitchen table, doing my homework or drawing while she flitted around, and we talked about our days.

This conversation would have none of the warmth and easiness those other ones had. Keeping my purse slung over my shoulder, I took a chair by the window.

“Where is Dad?” I asked.

“He had to run out and meet a client really quick.” She turned the oven on and looked at me. “You’re staying for dinner?”

“No, I have plans.”

“With Erica?” she hopefully asked.

“No, it’s a date.”

“With the older man.” The frown was immediate.

“Yes.”

“Oh, Lanie, Lanie.” Mom shook her head as she pulled peppers from the fridge and lined them up on the big, wooden cutting board.

I straightened my back. I’d come ready for this. “Mom, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could get taken advantage of.”

“How?”

“Twenty years is a big difference, Lanie.”

“It’s seventeen,” I corrected.

“That’s almost twenty.”

Okay. No use in arguing there. “I still don’t understand what you’re talking about. In what way could I be taken advantage of?”

Mom gripped the edges of the counter, her shoulders rising in annoyance. “An older man knows more about the ways of life. He’ll use his experience to get what he wants out of someone younger, and then, once he’s had his fill, he’ll leave.”

“I know you’re concerned, Mom, and I appreciate that, but you’re still pretty vague. This guy isn’t taking anything from me. It’s a mutual relationship. We both benefit from it.”

Her lips drew tight, and she was probably preparing her next argument, but the front door opened. “That’s your father.”

There was a warning tone in the statement, but I couldn’t heed it. I’d come to the house with an exclusive purpose in mind. It had taken ten minutes to get out of the car. I wasn’t backing down now.

“Both my girls are here!” Dad boomed as he strode into the kitchen. Taking his jacket off, he draped it over one of the island’s stools and pulled a water bottle from the fridge. Mom used the opportunity to shoot me another look.

“Are you here for dinner, Lanie?” Dad asked.

“Uh, no. I’m just stopping by for a little bit.” I twisted my sweater’s sleeves. “I wanted to talk to you both about something.”

Dad’s eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t look to see what was happening with Mom, but I swear I could hear the steam whistling out of her ears.

“Is everything all right?” Dad asked in concern, joining me at the table.

“Yes,” I quickly answered. “I want to share, um, something. As Mom knows, I’ve been dating someone.”

Now I spared a glance at my mother, whose lips were still pursed in disapproval.

“The older man?” Dad asked.

My eyes darted back to Mom, and she threw her hands up in exasperation. “I had to tell him,” she insisted.

“Yes,” I slowly said. “But he’s not that much older than me.”

“How old is he?” Dad demanded. He didn’t look unhappy, but he didn’t seem happy either.

I gulped. “Forty-five.”

“See?” Mom quickly said.

Dad rubbed the back of his neck. “What’s that? A seventeen-year difference?”

“It’s too much,” Mom answered for me.

“It’s not that much,” Dad said.

Silence filled the kitchen as Mom and I both stared at him.

“It’s almost twenty years, Bob.” Mom’s words were laced with venom, suggesting that if he didn’t agree with her, there would be problems.

Dad shrugged. “If she were twenty, then it would matter. But she’s not. She’s almost thirty.” Dad looked at me. “You like this guy?”

“A-a lot,” I stuttered, unable to believe how well things were going so far.

“He’s a good guy?”

“One of the best I’ve ever met.” My chest swelled with pride as I realized the words were true.

Mom shook her head, going back to work in the kitchen, although not without an aggressive amount of banging of cupboards and drawers being involved.

Dad lifted his face and inspected me. “I guess you two are getting pretty hot and heavy.”

I choked on an inhale. “Hot and heavy?”

“Yeah, like serious.”

“I don’t think that’s what hot and heavy means.” I laughed.

He waved his hand. “Aw, you know what I’m getting at. Are you bringing this guy over here anytime soon?”

“Um.” I bit down on my bottom lip, accidentally tearing a layer of skin. “There’s something else you need to know. You already know this guy.”

Mom’s noise-making abruptly stopped, and she turned to look at me.

Dad cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he barked. “We met him already?”

Just say it, I told myself. The sooner you let it out, the sooner it will be over with.

“He’s Andrew Marx,” I spilled, talking faster than usual. “I met him because his daughter, Raven, goes to my school. Weeks ago. We met weeks ago.”

The tension in the room was unprecedented, my breathing all I could hear at first. Dad’s eyes were wide, his jowls rapidly turning red.

“Andrew Marx?” he repeated.

“Yes,” I peeped, feeling like I was shrinking inside my sweater.

Dad licked his lips. Looked away. Ran his palm over his mouth. “How? When? Damn it, Lanie.”

I flinched at his harsh tone. My father had only cussed at me a few times before, and only when I did something really, really bad—like sneak out of the house in the middle of the night or clog the toilet with all of Mom’s lipsticks after we fought.

The disappointment and anger in his voice had me shaking. “We met weeks ago.”

“You said that,” Mom snapped.

I resisted sending her an angry look. Any aggression on my part would only make things worse.

Dad gruffly cleared his throat. “He hasn’t said anything about this to me.”

I eagerly leaned forward. “That’s because we didn’t know you two were friends until last weekend at the fundraiser. And I wouldn’t let him tell you. I wanted to let you know myself.”

Dad’s eyes squinted. “So you two paraded around that ballroom, making me look like a fool?”

“What?” I shook my head, not understanding. “No, Dad. It has nothing to do with you.”

“Right, I can see that.” He pushed his chair away from the table with more force than necessary. “I’ll be back later.” Grabbing his coat, he left, the front door slamming behind him.

“Dad,” I gasped, though he was no longer there to hear it.

“I hope you’re happy.” Mom’s eyes flashed with anger.

I couldn’t take it any longer. I’d done the right thing, only to have the people I depended on most in the world act like I’d committed a crime. Standing up, I stared her down.

“I was honest. What else can I do?”

Surprisingly, her expression softened. “Oh, Lanie,” she sighed. “I already told you why I don’t like this. But Andrew Marx? Your father’s friend?”

“We didn’t know.”

She nodded tiredly. “I see that.”

I hugged myself, feeling completely off-balance. “I’ve never seen Dad that angry.”

“Andrew is one of his closest friends.”

“How was I supposed to know that, Mom? He’s never home. He never talks about his life.”

A pained look crossed her face, reminding me that I wasn’t the only one who suffered the effects of my dad’s busy lifestyle.

“It just feels like you were lying to us.”

“You get that I wasn’t though, right?”

She inspected my face. “Yes,” she finally answered. “I believe you.” With a sigh, she folded and refolded a kitchen towel. “Your father and I are going to need some time. This is a lot to take in. We’ll have to talk about this soon, you know.”

“Yeah,” I numbly agreed, pushing my chair in.

“Where are you going?”

“I have plans. Remember?”

“Oh. Right.” She quickly looked away, leaving me feeling even more alone.

Shouldering my purse, I left the house, taking note of the empty spot where Dad’s car should have been.

I kept it together until I got to the car, but once the door was closed, I dropped my face into my hands. A dry sob wracked my body, but the tears wouldn’t come. The situation was too unjust for that. As much as my parents’ reactions hurt, I knew I hadn’t done anything wrong.

I was their only child. They were the only mom and dad I had. How could they let such a small issue come between us?

Taking another shuddering breath, I pulled out my phone.

“Hey.” Andrew’s warm voice brought immediate ease.

“Hi,” I whispered.

“How did it go?”

“Not that good.” I covered my mouth with my palm so I wouldn’t cry out.

Andrew inhaled sharply. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry.” I looked mournfully back at the house, wishing things were different.

“Don’t apologize. None of this is your fault. Where are you?”

“I’m still at my parents’. My dad stormed out, and my mom is still inside. What are you doing?”

I held my breath. Right then, I needed him almost as much as I needed oxygen. We had loose plans for the evening, but if he wasn’t ready to see me yet, I would break. I’d reached my quota for disappointments for the day. Two hot tears rolled down my cheeks. They’d been a long time coming, and they burned like fire.

“I’m at home,” Andrew smoothly answered. “Waiting for you to come over.”

“Yeah?” I smiled through the pain.

“Yeah. Now get your butt over here.”