Well Matched (Well Met #3)(47)

Ah. This was rite-of-passage graduation stress, not dealing-with-her-father stress. “Here’s the thing.” I held her closer, rubbing my palm up and down her arm. “No one’s ever ready. For any of those big changes that life throws at you. You just have to meet them head-on and do your best. It’s okay to be scared a little. If we all waited till we were ready, we’d never do anything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I nodded emphatically, punctuating it with a kiss on top of her head.

“Okay.” She sighed and snuggled in closer, more like the little girl she used to be, and that was okay. It was nice to see she still needed her mom.

“You’re going to do great,” I whispered against her hair.

“I hope so.” Her voice was still small but stronger now. “I’m sorry about last night. About the whole thing with . . . with him.”

“It’s okay.” I loosened my grip and rolled to my back, staring up at the ceiling. “Did you have a good time? Meeting him and all that?”

“I guess?” She rolled to her back too, echoing my movement. “I’m glad I got to meet him.” She sighed. “I kind of wish he wasn’t coming today. But I don’t know how to uninvite him.”

“You can’t,” I agreed. “But see, there you go. That’s part of being an adult. Sometimes you make choices and you wish you could take them back, but you can’t. You just gotta plow through them.” I probably wasn’t phrasing this advice very well, but I’d had a fair amount of vodka last night.

“Yeah.” Another long sigh. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s just . . . I thought I’d feel something. Like he’d be family, right? But he was just this guy. And he made you leave last night, and . . .”

“You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah. I don’t want him to do that to you today. You belong there. He shouldn’t make you feel like you don’t.”

“Oh, he won’t,” I said. “Don’t worry.” Sure, I’d fled from the reception last night at the sight of him, but now I was prepared. And the hell if I was going to let that ghost from my past ruin the biggest day of my kid’s life.

At least, that was the plan. There was a little ping of anxiety in the back of my mind, ready to turn into panic at any moment. But I wasn’t going to let Caitlin see that. Even if I had to throw up in my purse later or something, I wasn’t going to miss this day.

Speaking of which, it was time to get the day started. “Come on, graduate.” I nudged her shoulder. “We’ve got time for eggs and pancakes before we have to get ready, if you want to help.”

“Of course I want to help.” She threw off the covers on her side of the bed. “You know I make better pancakes.”

“Oh, you do not.” But I grinned as I followed her out of the bedroom. Caitlin made terrible pancakes, but hope sprang eternal with that kid. And far be it from me to quash that kind of optimism.





Thirteen





I wasn’t a sundress kind of person. Emily looked great in them, and our friend Stacey was a big proponent of them. But I was always more the trousers-and-twinset type at work, and on weekends lived mostly in jeans. Sundresses were twirly. Sundresses could show my scar.

But graduation was outside at the football field where there was no shade to speak of, and midmorning in June was just too hot for jeans or twinsets or any of it. So when I slipped into the end of a row of bleachers, off to the side where I could stay unobtrusive, I was wearing a flowered dress and heeled sandals, my hair blown out and up in a twist. I spotted Emily down in front, her head bent toward Simon’s. He had some papers in his hands, so he was probably one of the ones giving a speech at commencement.

I sat quietly, waiting for the ceremony to start, while all around me families buzzed with life and laughter. Dads held bouquets of flowers for their graduating daughters—shit, I should have done that—and younger siblings bounced fearlessly on the bleachers and squinted into the sun, pointing out their graduating brother or sister in the crowd below. My heart thudded when I spotted Robert, a few rows down and to my right, toward the front like he had every right to be there. And here I was skulking in the back. My shoulders rolled forward as I tried to make myself smaller. I didn’t want him to turn around and see me. See how much I wasn’t part of this community.

Just then, Emily turned and through some kind of weird family psychic power spotted me. She made an exaggerated face of impatience and waved me toward her, pointing at the bleacher behind her, which was still empty. I shook my head, but that only made her frown more and wave harder, so I grabbed my bag and made my way down there before she sprained something.

“What the hell, April,” she said once I’d picked my way down the rows and slipped in to sit behind her. “I was saving you this spot. Why were you sitting up there all alone?”

I shrugged; I didn’t have a good answer for her. I also didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself. This new seat put me almost directly into Robert’s sight line—we were in the same row now, and he was just a few feet to my right. Too close. I turned my head a little to the left so I couldn’t see him. So he couldn’t see me.

“Hey, there you are.” Mitch slid onto the bleacher beside me, bumping my left shoulder with his right one. “I was looking for you.”