Dad swallowed. “It’s a long story,” he reiterated, and then his eyes drifted to Theon. His jaw clenched. “What the hell is he doing here? Patty, get the police on the phone!”
“He’s her husband,” Mom muttered. I didn’t need to look at her to know that she was massaging her temple again.
“Husband?” Dad choked.
“You called Mom ‘babe’!” I cried again. “What is she even doing here? Where are Zada and Sage?”
Dad cast his eyes to the side… caught. “Zada left. Your mom stayed.”
My eyes shot over to Mom, and she looked like stone, like a statue of a deer. It was exactly how she looked any time she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t “supposed” to—which, in her mind, meant following her heart.
“You two are back together, aren’t you?” I demanded. I didn’t mean for it to sound as accusatory as it did, but I suddenly felt like a furious, embittered eight-year-old all over again. They’d dragged my innocent little heart through the wringer with their divorce, and part of me surged protectively around my inner child, buffering her from the likelihood of their inevitable second divorce. “After eleven years,” I said, glaring between both of them, “you just… get back together like high schoolers?”
“Hey!” Mom snapped, shooting to her feet. Theon was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to me now. “Losing a child is hard! You disappeared, Penelope. You disappeared for weeks, came back, and then disappeared again. We—bonded over that. We thought we’d lost you forever, and that we didn’t have anything left, but then we realized that we had each other.”
Theon and I shared a significant look around my mother.
Still, I had to exhale.
“But Mom,” I said, casting a look at my dad. She must’ve known what I was about to say. Dad was confident and exciting and spontaneous, but he was also unreliable, and emotionally inconsistent, and so, so selfish. “We’ve talked about this a million times,” I said to her in a low voice. “It just wasn’t meant to be.”
“Just what is that supposed to mean? Patty? What is she talking about?” Dad asked, glaring between the two of us.
“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be at that time,” Mom answered me, not acknowledging Dad’s question. “Or maybe ‘meant to be’ is just something we, as a species, invented.”
“That’s not it,” Theon added quietly.
“I’ve never been much of a believer in ‘fate,’” Mom went on.
“Really?” Dad asked. Typical Dad. Could be married to a woman for almost ten years, co-parent with her for almost twenty, and still not know if she believes in destiny or self-determination. But he could go on and on about himself. “I’ve always believed in it,” he added.
“I know,” Mom grumbled. “I let that slide.”
“Anyway, young lady, the topic of debate is not your mother and I,” Dad noted sternly, remembering that Theon was here, and we were married, and I’d been missing for weeks and dragged them both through hell. “The topic of debate is where exactly you’ve been since January first, and that this random guy is your husband now! And what are you wearing? Did you join a cult?”
“It’s called a pelisse,” I repeated for Dad’s benefit. “And no, I did not join a cult. I moved. Because Theon is royalty, I moved into a castle.”
“A castle,” Dad reiterated. “Have you talked to Michelle about all this?”
For a moment, I saw red. Dad always deferred to my old friends: the spoiled country club brats who reaffirmed to him that his lifestyle was normal. Theon stood from the couch and sidled over to us. “No,” I answered. “I don’t need to talk to Michelle. Trust me; when she comes out with her tell-all, you’ll get it.” Theon took my hand again. I looked up at him, and something silent passed between us. An understanding. It was going to be okay. This was just our chrysalis. I looked back to Dad and Mom, who had come to stand with Dad when Theon had stood. “I know it’s a lot to absorb.” I tried to be compassionate. I was, after all, their “little girl.” I “always would be". But I wasn’t. I was a woman. A wife. A queen.
Mom scoffed, and Dad nodded at her in agreement.
“When you see The Hearthlands, you’ll understand,” I promised them.
“You’re still on about that imaginary island?” Dad asked.
“You’re not staying?” Mom asked.
“Of course I’m not staying,” I replied, as gently as I could. “Mom… I will visit as often as I can. Okay? I’m a married woman. I’m a queen. We’re in the process of rebuilding. The kingdom is in a critical stage right now.”