Love & Other Disasters(90)

London put down the glass. They stared at the rings it had left on the counter.

“I just don’t get it,” they said eventually. “He’s had so long. I don’t . . . I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.”

Their mom ran a hand through London’s hair and looked at them for a long moment. They closed their eyes, wanting to lean on her while they could.

She dropped her hand and stared forward again, focused on the rainbow of liquor bottles along the wall.

“No matter how many times we all told him, I think he really did think it was a phase,” she mused. “And you being yourself on the show has made him realize he was wrong. Your father does not deal well with being wrong.”

Boo fucking hoo, London thought.

“It feels like . . . ” London fiddled with the curved handle of the hot toddy glass. Knowing how pathetic this was going to sound, but needing their mom to hear it anyway. “Like he doesn’t even love me anymore.”

Charlotte brought a fist up to her mouth. She kept it there a long moment, and London grew disturbed that she was taking so long to disagree.

“He loves you, London. He does. Even if he has forgotten how to show it. He’s . . . ” Charlotte sighed again. “He’s built his whole life around the four of you. Every single place he goes, he talks about what his girls are up to. And now . . . He doesn’t know what to say, I think. Now that he can’t say ‘my girls.’ ”

London cursed under their breath. “It’s not that hard,” they said, annoyed. “He can talk about his kids, then. His children. His offspring, I don’t know, whatever! I’ve taken one word away from him. Cry me a river.”

“I know, London, I know. I’m not making excuses; I’m trying to understand it, too.”

“Sorry, the cry me a river was directed at him, not you.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

She shook her head.

“I’ve never seen him act like he did tonight,” she said. “And before your big day. I am . . . appalled. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Charlotte Parker rubbed her eyes and looked lost, a level of exhaustion and vulnerability London had never seen in her, and it felt like the world as they had always known it was collapsing. Their head felt heavy; their throat clogged.

“Mom,” they choked out. “Are you going to get a divorce because of me?”

She jerked toward London suddenly, as if remembering they were there. She turned on her bar stool to face them. She took London’s face in both of her hands, smelling of the Chanel perfume she had worn for as long as London could remember.

“My serious, sensitive, beautiful London,” she said with a watery-eyed smile. “If my husband can’t get his head out of his ass about this, that has nothing, not even a single iota, to do with you, and everything to do with him. Do you understand?”

London tried to swallow, but it was like their tongue had become lead inside their mouth. They managed a small nod.

“No matter what happens with your father, I love you exactly as you are, exactly as you will ever be, and I am so proud of you I can barely even begin to express it. Okay?”

They sat like that for a moment, looking at each other, scared hazel eyes searching wizened, gentle brown and finding nothing but the truth.

London’s tongue dislodged enough to allow them to whisper, “I love you too, Mom.”

Finally, Charlotte released London’s face and sat forward again, stealing a sip of the toddy as she did.

“London,” she said after a few moments of comfortable silence. “Do you want your dad at the taping tomorrow?”

London looked over at her. She was studying them carefully, but without judgment.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t come, if you don’t. Don’t feel guilty, either way. It’d make sense to me if you wanted him there, and it’d make sense if you didn’t. But it’s your choice.”

London stared into the almost-empty glass in front of them.

They had never even considered that could be an option. That London could tell their dad no. About this, about anything. That London could be in charge.

They felt childish, suddenly, that this hadn’t occurred to them.

They still wished . . . they wished this wasn’t an option they had to consider at all. It still seemed unfair. But having some power in the equation felt marginally better.

“I want him there,” London decided. “I want him to see me win.”

Charlotte brushed their cheek with another sad smile. “That’s my London.”

She reached over and drank the last dregs of toddy.

“Speaking of. I believe we both need our beauty sleep if we’re planning on stunning the cameras tomorrow.”

They slid off their stools and left the dark bar.

Charlotte weaved her arm through London’s, leaning slightly on their shoulder as they walked toward the elevators.

“I just hope we all get through tomorrow without Julie assaulting anyone,” Charlotte said as she pressed the silver button on the wall. “You should see your sister when she watches you on this show. I swear, she has turned Chef’s Special viewing into a full-contact sport.”

London laughed as they stepped inside the elevator, the jittery nerves that were gaining speed in their veins again marginally offset by a hazy warmth.