The Anatomical Shape of a Heart(75)

I didn’t know what to say. I think I might’ve gasped—or maybe that was Mom. I glanced up at Jack to see if he’d put his father up to this, but he was just as flabbergasted.

“Um…” I cleared my throat. “Can I ask why?” Was he so ashamed of Jillian that he’d do anything to make sure no one ever laid eyes on the painting again?

He inhaled deeply and took his time answering, head down, brows knit, hands in pockets, as if it were a struggle to come up with the right words. Almost laughable, really. The man who’d given a hundred and one speeches in front of TV cameras and stadiums filled with people was now tongue-tied?

When he finally lifted his head, his face was calmer. Something unguarded and honest softened his eyes. “Because,” he said softly as he looked at Jack, “it made me realize I don’t see my daughter as much as I should.”

Oh …

I scratched the side of my neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, and I’ll write you a check for it right now.”

He was totally serious. I looked at him, and then at his wife, who was definitely brushing back tears (and trying to smile at the same time). Next to her, Mom crossed her arms and gave me a cautionary look. I imagined that the penny-scraping side of her, who wanted me to walk away with something to help my future, was at war with the proud side of her, who’d refused child support from Dad. Standing behind her, my brother had fewer moral hiccups; Heath was mouthing Say yes and waving me in as if I were a plane descending toward a runway and there was a pot of gold at the end.

Then I glanced at Jack, and he was just looking at me the way he always did. like I was the only person in the room who mattered. Like he trusted me to make the right choice on my own and would stand behind any decision I made.

So I made one.

“I’ll give you the painting for free if you promise not to send Jack away to Massachusetts, and if all of you agree to let Jack and me see each other.”

Total silence. Tick-tock, tick-tock …

Between us, the back of Jack’s hand rubbed against mine. I slipped my fingers into his and felt a little stronger in my proverbial backbone when he squeezed my hand.

“I’m fine with it,” Mom said. “As long as you’re honest about where you’re going and”—she skewered Jack with a warning look—“no one gets arrested. But you have to keep your grades up, Bex, and there’ll be a curfew on school nights. No sneaking around after midnight.”

I could’ve kissed her. All hail Katherine the Great.

But she was only half the battle.

I held my breath and looked to the Vincents.

Any earlier vulnerability Jack’s dad had shown was now gone, and he was back to being cool and unflappable. He flexed his jaw and started to speak, but his wife silenced him with a small noise in the back of her throat. She then smiled at Mom and said, “Life is better when my son isn’t moping around the house. So I believe I speak for both my husband and myself when I say that your suggestions are more than sensible, Ms. Adams.”

“If we agree to this, there will be additional stipulations for you, Jack,” his dad said. “You’re not off the hook for the vandalism.”

“Understood,” Jack said.

The mayor sighed and stuck out his hand to me, the tiniest of smiles tugging at his serious mouth. “I guess that means you and I have a deal.”

The mayor left with his posse while Mom and Mrs. Vincent got friendly and headed back inside the gallery together to collect my painting. I got so caught up in all the hoopla, I didn’t notice that Heath and Noah had gone missing. I spotted them down the hall. Heath was talking to Dad. Noah was talking to Suzi.

“Is this the first time your brother’s seen your father since the divorce?” Jack asked, watching them with me.

“Yeah. And no one’s yelling. I can’t believe it. Why am I the one who went nuts and Heath is taking it all in stride? He’s the emotional one, not me.”

Jack shuffled me out of the way of a group of rowdy students barreling down the hall. “It probably helps that Heath isn’t being bamboozled into meeting your father under false pretenses like you were.”

“I don’t think that’s a real word.”

“Bamboozled? Of course it is. Never question my authority when it comes to vocabulary, Bex. By the way, thanks for saving me from purgatory in Massachusetts. And for saving us.”

“I think it was more Jillian’s influence than mine. You should go see her tonight and tell her all about it. And—hey! I can go with you.” I turned around to face him, giddy with the realization.

“A week until school starts, so we’ve still got a little midnight oil to burn before the curfew kicks in,” he said, waggling his brows as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Curfew,” I said with a snort. “We’ll see about that.”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even start. I’m not risking Nurse Katherine’s wrath again, not when I just got you back. By the way, I never got a chance to tell you earlier, but it’s nice to see you wearing the necklace. Do you like it?”

“I love it. I’ll never take it off. Well, apart from X-rays.”

“Always practical. I’m glad you love it. It loves you right back.”

“Does it?”