Always Never Yours(85)

“Dad?”

I hurriedly toss the belt in the trash can behind the door while he strides past me into the room. He looks around without appearing to really take anything in. “We have to talk, Megan,” he announces.

“Why are you here?” I ask haltingly.

He raises an incredulous eyebrow. “You disappeared from rehearsal on a school field trip.”

“Yeah, but how do you—”

“Jody called me,” he says, his voice suddenly lowering. “She sounded angry, saying something about you no longer playing Juliet. Is that true?”

Now I understand why Jody hasn’t come to see me. She brought in the big guns. “Yeah, it’s true, but it’s fine. I didn’t want to be Juliet in the first place.” I keep my voice steady despite how I’m still reeling from his intrusion. “I’m Lady Montague now, the part I should have had from the beginning. I have, like, two lines.”

Dad perches on the edge of the bed and frowns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, the part you should have had from the beginning,” he says eventually. “I know you’ve put a lot of work into this play. It’s why your mom flew home to watch you.” I hate how innocuously he says home, like he doesn’t know he forced Mom out of the place where she belongs. “Then we get an irate phone call from a teacher who’s always loved you—your mom and I are worried.”

“Don’t pretend you care how Mom feels,” I shoot back, surprising myself, and him. He recoils, confusion written in his eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

I know I probably should take it back, but everything I’ve watched happen to my family over the past three years is boiling to the surface, and I charge on. “Weren’t you paying attention when we had dinner at the house together? Or were you too busy with your new wife to even notice how upset my mom was?”

“Your mother’s not upset,” he says calmly, like I’m the one who has this wrong. “We went out to lunch yesterday, the four of us.”

“She was crying, Dad. When she put Erin to bed, I found her in Erin’s room crying, alone.” I feel a tremor in my own voice. “She’s heartbroken. She’s always been heartbroken. It’s why she shouldn’t have even come here in the first place—it only makes her sadder. But what would you care, right?”

“That’s not fair.” Dad tries to interrupt, but everything I haven’t said to him for years is rushing out of me.

“You’re the one who divorced her, who stopped loving her. Then you jumped into bed with Rose, not even caring how hurt Mom was.” I take a breath. I’ve run out of words for what I’m feeling.

“I wasn’t in love with your mom anymore,” he says gently, his shoulders sagging, “but I do still love her. I’ll always love her. Your mom knows that. She understands why we couldn’t be together anymore, but she knows how I feel about her.”

“She obviously doesn’t, Dad,” I return. “If she did, I wouldn’t have found her crying upstairs in her old home. Remember?”

“Just because your mother understands how I feel about her doesn’t mean it won’t hurt her sometimes. It hurts me, too.” He rubs his face distractedly, his eyes desolate. “It’s a hard thing, ending something that permanent. It’s a pain that never goes away.”

I try to reconcile his words with what I know. It doesn’t work. “But you moved on. You moved on so quickly,” I say weakly.

Dad straightens up, looking surprised. “I fell in love with Rose, but I haven’t moved on,” he amends carefully, uncertainly even. “I guess I never considered how it looked to you. How quickly I brought Rose into my life. But finding Rose has nothing to do with what I feel for your mother. Your mom is an invaluable part of my life, and no matter what, she always will be.” From the vulnerability in his voice, I feel the truth of what he’s saying. He pauses, something searching in his expression. “I hope you know, Megan, if you think Erin and the baby change your place in our family—nothing could ever change that.”

I say nothing. I don’t know how to tell him he’s wrong. They have changed my place. It’s impossible to admit out loud.

“Hey. Look at me,” he says gently. I do, tears I wish I could banish brimming in my eyes. His voice is rough when he continues. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I haven’t been there for you the way you needed, the way you deserve. I’m trying to figure out how to be a new father and raise an intimidatingly smart, self-possessed teenager, and I know I haven’t gotten it right every time. But us moving to New York isn’t us leaving you behind.” He pauses as if for permission, which I give by waiting. He goes on. “You’re kind of scarily grown-up now, Megan,” he says with a faint grin. “Next year you’re going to college. You’re going to be pursuing your own future. I want you to have that experience on your own—being the incredibly independent adult you already are.”

I smile back, a tear stumbling over my eyelashes.

“That said,” he continues, “if you ever need us, or want us, or you’re tired of being grown-up for a while, then come home.”

Home? I feel my smile fade. “New York’s not my home,” I say. “It won’t be the same. You’ll have your own life, and I won’t belong.”