A Cosmic Kind of Love(63)

“Hallie?” My father walked into the hallway from the living room. He was still in his dress shirt and pants, though he’d discarded his tie, and his hair was mussed. I could hear the murmur of the TV in the background. “What are you doing here?” His voice was low. “Is everything okay?”

I stared at the guy who had missed so many events in my life because of his work but who had shown me in other ways that he had my back. I’d bounced around from baseball to swimming to gymnastics to skating to art class to piano lessons . . . My entire childhood he’d indulged me in my whims and defended them to my mom when she said I gave up too easily. Honestly, I hadn’t. I was just always excited to try something different. Dad had understood that about me back then. As I grew older, I lost that thirst for adventure because I’d been too busy trying not to ruffle any feathers and be a good girl and do whatever would keep the peace.

When I brought up the idea of backpacking before my senior year of college, my dad had said he’d double whatever money I made in the summers running up to it so I could do that. Then Mom found out and lost her shit. She said she would not spend weeks worrying about something awful happening to her kid overseas somewhere. My parents had such a huge fight about it, I eventually told them I’d changed my mind and didn’t want to do it. By that point, Gabby and a few friends from college had made it seem like I didn’t have the personality to do something so adventurous. So I scrubbed that one off my bucket list, and peace reigned in the Goodman household. For a while.

My fault for letting friends feed my insecurity and allowing my parents’ relationship to dictate my life.

But it was their fault too for not seeing how their actions affected me.

I didn’t recognize this guy in front of me as the guy who had supported my dreams growing up.

“I need to talk to you in private.”

Concerned, he flicked a look at Miranda. “Okay. Let’s go into the kitchen, but try to keep your voice down because Alison’s sleeping, and she has an early flight tomorrow. She’s going to stay with her dad in Florida for the summer.”

I nodded, brittle at the reminder he was playing happy blended family.

Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Miranda peering curiously after us before she ducked into the living room, out of sight. My dad closed the kitchen door, not quite shutting it.

“What’s going on? You haven’t answered my calls for weeks, and then you show up here unannounced close to midnight.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t know I needed to announce myself to stop by my dad’s house.”

Something in my tone made his head jerk. His expression softened. “Of course you don’t. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Didn’t you?” My hands shook at my sides, so I curled them into fists. “I just came from Mom’s. She called me, drunk and inconsolable.”

Dad sighed. “Your mother isn’t my problem anymore.”

“Your problem? Am I your problem? Do you even care what it’s been like for me being tossed around in your whole moronic, childish divorce drama?”

“Excuse me?” he spat angrily.

His anger fired mine. “Not once have you asked me how I’m doing or how I feel. Every time you have an issue with Mom, you drag me into it like she’s my responsibility. And the fact is, Dad, you’re the reason she’s messed up.”

“Lower your voice,” he hissed. “And may I remind you, your mother left me.”

“Yeah, she did.” Tears burned in my throat. “And I don’t know why, and she doesn’t even know why, but all this crap she’s pulling now is because she’s heartbroken!”

Dad looked away, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

“And I’m not asking you to feel sorry for her, because I know she broke your heart first . . . but everything you’ve done since has been to get back at her, and you haven’t cared who you hurt to do it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“This house! Miranda, Alison!” I gestured around me. “You can’t afford this house, Dad! This is the kind of house you always told Mom we couldn’t have because it was a waste of money, but you could have afforded it then on both your incomes. I know you can’t afford it on your own. But you bought this to impress Miranda because you knew it would hurt Mom!”

The color leached from my father’s face.

Tears slipped freely down mine. “I might be a grown woman, but I’m still your daughter, and you threw me away. I only ever get a phone call if you need me to deal with Mom or if you need something from me . . . like throwing a sixteenth-birthday party for a girl I barely know when you never even bothered to show up to mine! You talk to me about Miranda and Alison like they’re your priority and I’m no longer your family, like you divorced me when you divorced Mom. And I never said anything,” I cried. “Because I was too busy trying to make everything okay for everyone else. But I’m not okay! I’m tired of your bullshit. Both of you.” I swiped angrily at my tears, turning to stare out at the pool lit up in the dark. “Does Miranda even know this place is probably crippling you?”

“No, I don’t.”

I spun around. Miranda had stepped into the room. She glared up at my father, and my stomach sank as my father turned his back on us both. His shoulders rose and fell in shallow breaths as he leaned into the kitchen counter.