Dad.
Monday morning was a tightrope walk of phone acrobatics, tricks at the copier, and a lunchtime trip for the office to the busiest restaurant on the block. With a dedicated effort, I managed to avoid any one-on-one time with Dad through lunch. I lasted until that sticky, slow part of a workday afternoon where everyone gave up at three o'clock and migrated to the candy box.
Then he called me to his office.
What was I supposed to say to him? Anything about Mom would crush his heart as thoroughly as she crushed Marcus Washington's legs.
And there were those thoughts again, swirling in my head. If nothing else, Mom's scandal did give me something to worry about that wasn't Nate and the baby. Good on her for always knowing when to butt into my thoughts.
Oh, I really, really didn't want to think about her butt now too.
Dad gestured for me to sit, and he nudged his garbage can and the bag of chips under his desk. Great. Junk food twice in a day. He'd be a block of salt by the time he got home, and now Mom wasn't there to make sure his dinner was a salad instead of a log of pepperoni and a handful of olives.
"Mandy … " Dad drummed his fingers against the desk-the same nervous rhythm I patted on my thighs. "Look, I think we need to talk about what happened this weekend."
I bit my lip. "I'm not really the one to talk about this-"
"Of course you are. And I know it puts you in a very awkward position."
I figured Mr. Washington was the one in the uncomfortable position, but I wasn't saying a damn thing. "I don't think it's my place to say anything-"
"I don't want you to be mad at your momma."
I looked up. Dad rubbed his bald head with a sigh.
"But she-"
Dad nodded. "I know. It was inappropriate, and it caused quite the scene. But, you're young. You understand. Sometimes people make mistakes in the … heat of the moment."
Yeah, but my mistake created a life, it didn't ruin a marriage.
"I thought you'd be more … upset?" I said.
"You know I love your Momma. We have our issues, but it's nothing that can't be worked out."
"That's very … optimistic."
"Well, she's worth that fight, Mandy."
"But what about the … Washingtons?"
Dad waved a dismissive hand. "They'll get over it. It was a momentary embarrassment."
Wow. He was really optimistic. And maybe a little naïve? Nate was right. It was best to let them figure it all out.
"So, now that's settled," Dad said. "You don't have to worry about anything. Your mom and I have an understanding, and it won't divert any attention from your sister's wedding."
Oh, I wouldn't be too sure, but he sounded confident. "Good. We don't want any distractions."
Like me and Nate.
Or the baby.
"You okay?" Dad asked. "Something's bothering you."
"It's nothing."
"Aw, come on. You can't hide anything from your dad. Remember that time I found the mid-term report you hid under the bed? The C in math?"
"Dad, I was eleven."
"And I knew then, just like I know now." He crossed his arms. "Spit it out, Mandy-Pandy."
Oh God. Wasn't talking about Mom's sex life bad enough?
I heaved a breath, meeting my father's gaze for what had to be the first time since I found out I was pregnant. Somehow, Dad could make me feel like I was a kid again, in trouble for breaking the glass face on Mom's grandfather clock.
But this time, the trouble was worse.
I hadn't told Mom I was pregnant yet, partly because I knew how she'd react. She'd yell. Compare me to her engaged daughter. Fret and scream and blame herself all to get me to console her. I could handle that, I had all my life.
But Dad?
We were always the closest. I didn't want to hurt him.
The last thing I wanted in this world was to disappoint my father.
"It's kinda complicated … " I should have spilled it then. The words caught in my throat.
"Boy trouble?" Dad winked. "Well, I guess man trouble."
Sure. That was easier to talk about. "I guess so."
"Found a guy you like?" Dad's eyes narrowed. "Is he treating you good?"
"It's not that. It's a … possibility that will never, ever happen." I bit my lip. "Did you always want to marry Mom?"
"God no. Have you met your mother?"
"Then … why?"
"Because she was the one I thought about when I went to bed at night, and she was the first person I wanted to see in the morning. Nothing more to it than that. I asked her to marry me, and she refused. Twice. But when it's right, it's right."
"Is that all it takes?"
Dad laughed. "No way. Learn from my mistakes, Mandy. If I knew ten, fifteen, or twenty years ago how to take care of my relationship and put the ego and pettiness aside? Well, your mom wouldn't be hiding in country clubs getting booty calls, would she?"
Shudder.
He smiled at me. "You are a beautiful young woman, and men will chase you. The key is to find the one you can't live without-and then you protect that relationship, because it is as fragile as it is precious."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Anytime."
I checked my phone. Lindsey demanded I leave the office before closing to help with the decorations, but my mind wasn't on her chosen craft for the night. Dad had made sense. He always did, but this time he'd made more.
I woke up this morning dreaming of Nate, and it wasn't a fear about the pregnancy or panic about telling him. It was a vision of us, snuggling, together.
That was worth protecting.
I stopped on the way home to grab our pizza, though I couldn't eat the greasy, sloppy mess. I'd ordered a Hawaiian specifically for the pineapple to eat, but Lindsey was onto me. She knew I hated her favorite type of pie.
"You're not getting out of arts and crafts." Lindsey took her dinner with a suspicious glance. "Don't even try it."
"Just wanted to be nice."
She waved a pair of scissors at me, but we had two dozen paper bouquets to make. Every Pinterest page had different instructions for the flowers, and she didn't have time to stop and nag. The project demanded all of her concentration, which was good. The pregnancy was bad for my mood swings, and even worse for hiding how I felt. My emotions weren't on my sleeve anymore-they were tucked inside a glove I'd use to slap people who riled me up.
I managed to avoid her inquisition, but she still puttered around me as she nibbled on the pizza. She and Bryce stopped to eat. I kept trying to turn tissue paper into roses to avoid questions.
"Something's different about you … " Lindsey said.
I folded the paper and made a cut. "I'm a little tired of paper crafts."
"No, it's not that. You're … more … " She snapped her fingers at Bryce. "What's the word I want?"
Bryce didn't respond well to a Prescott woman's glare. He knew better than to cross me.
"She looks fine," he said.
"No, there's something." Lindsey tapped her chin with her ring finger. "You're calmer."
"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked. The scissors didn't work. I reached for the X-Acto knife to properly frill the leaves.
"It's not you. You've been super crazy these past couple weeks."
I arched an eyebrow. Lindsey huffed.
"Okay," she said. "I know some of it is my fault."
I smirked. "Some."
"Still … " Lindsey leaned close. "Something's different … "
I trimmed a bit of the tissue paper from the blossom of the flower. It wasn't the prettiest, but tucked into a bouquet, it'd look very fluffy and pink.
Lindsey's voice echoed through the house. "Oh, my god. You had sex!"
I flinched. The X-Acto knife sliced my palm.
We all screamed, though neither of us as shrill as Bryce.
I leapt to my feet as the blood dripped everywhere. Crimson droplets stained three of our premade flowers and all the white tissue paper. Lindsey howled like she had been cut, and Mom raced in from the kitchen, covered in flour.
"Who had sex?" She pointed at me with a finger coated in chocolate chip cookie dough. "Mandy, I told you. Ain't nothing unnatural about your momma getting some. It's how you got here, sweet thing, and I don't see you complaining-"
"Mom, move!"
I pushed past her to the kitchen, dripping the entire way. Lindsey hurried after me and tossed me a clean tea-towel to sop up the blood. Mom lingered behind, fanning Bryce with her apron.
"Lord, have mercy," Mom said. "Mandy, are you that much of a klutz? What happened? Why are you bleeding all over my floors?"
I'd have to apologize later for the inconvenience of my laceration. I leaned over the sink, but rinsing the wound made it bleed harder. It wasn't a small cut, sliced right through the sensitive skin between my thumb and forefinger. I wrapped it tight in the towel.
Lindsey poked at me. "Does it hurt?"