Part of Your World(67)

I smiled. “I’ve put my bid in for chief.”

Dad’s brows drew down. “Of course you’ve put your bid in for chief, I expressly told you to do so. What kind of announcement is that? What about Neil?” he asked, looking confused.

“What about him?” I asked, looking back and forth between them.

“You’re not getting back with Neil?” Mom said, her eyes darting nervously to Dad.

“What? No…”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Alexis,” Dad said. “What was the point of this dinner?”

I blinked at him. “I…I thought you’d be happy. About the chief thing. You wanted me to run. I’m officially running.”

“Bringing us here to tell us you’re doing what you should have been doing in the first place is not worthy of a dinner announcement,” he said.

Mom licked her lips. “Sweetheart, we were under the impression that you were getting back with Neil.”

I pressed my lips together and let out a slow, patient breath through my nose. “Mom? Dad?” I put my hands on the table. “I am never getting back with Neil.”

“Why the hell not?” Dad snapped.

It was so loud, people from other tables turned to look at us. I gawked at him in shock.

He pointed a finger at me. “You’ve given that relationship about as much effort as you’ve given your career. You’ve done the bare minimum, and you wonder why it isn’t successful.”

Mom put a hand on his shoulder. “Cecil…”

“No, Jennifer, she needs to hear this.”

His face was red.

“That man deserves your respect. You don’t even return his text messages. He’s made every attempt possible to make amends with you—and if you don’t want to make them, that’s your business. But until you’ve exhausted couple’s counseling, do not sit here and act like you’re not part of the problem.”

I felt my face growing hot. “Dad, he was abusive—”

“Did he hit you?” Dad asked. “Call you names?”

A lump was forming in my throat. “No—”

“Did that man ever lay a finger on you?”

I felt tears welling in my eyes. “No.” I swallowed. “He was mean, Dad. He’s still mean. He acts differently when you’re not there—”

“He’s probably just frustrated with you, and frankly I don’t blame him. Honestly, I don’t know what we did to deserve children like this. I really don’t.”

Mom was rubbing his shoulder. “Let’s just calm down—”

“We coddled them, Jennifer. They’ve never had to work for anything. Lazy.”

My mouth fell open. “I was valedictorian. I graduated first of my class at Stanford. I’ve worked my ass off to get—”

Dad jabbed a finger at me. “Don’t you dare take that language with me, young lady. I have had about enough of this back talk from you. So help me, Alexis, I will cut you off like I’ve cut off your brother. I have zero tolerance for this disrespect.”

I blinked at him. “What do you mean you’ve cut off my brother…”

“Your brother has made his choice,” Dad said. “He’s not welcome in our home until he’s rid himself of this woman he’s run off with.”

I gaped at him. “That woman is his wife!”

Dad’s nostrils flared. “That’s no daughter-in-law of mine. And you’ll be careful to remember that. This family isn’t some greasy diner that you can stumble into with some tattooed junkie you’ve picked up. I will not have our name associated with—whatever the hell she is.”

Mom couldn’t even look me in the eye.

I shook my head, incredulous. “You’re disowning your own son because you don’t like his wife,” I said slowly. “Who you’ve never even met.”

He leaned forward. “I don’t need to meet her. Her reputation precedes her. She has a goddamn sex tape, for Christ’s sake.”

The unfairness of this made my jaw go tight. Lola Simone’s sex tape was no different than the pictures Daniel and I had just sent to each other.

“She trusted someone, and they betrayed her,” I said. “That’s not her fault.”

“I would rather go to my grave never breathing another word to your brother than acknowledge the embarrassment he’s invited into this family. He owes every single one of us an apology. Marriage should be dignified. Neil is dignified. You may not have been married to him legally, but you were married to him in practice and you better damn well start to act like it.”

The server came to the table with our food, and Dad stopped talking and sat back in his seat with a clenched jaw. We sat there, silent, as plates were placed in front of us.

When the server was gone, Dad began eating, cutting his steak angrily, like he’d given up getting through to me and just wanted to get dinner over with so he could leave.

It took everything I had in me to muscle down the urge to cry.

Mom picked up a fork and just hovered it over her plate, staring at it. I recognized that look. I’d worn it myself. It’s the look you have when you’re too tired to carry on the fight.

It’s the way you feel before you accept the quiche.