"Yeah," she said, her breath shuddery. "But . . ." She reached under her pillow and pulled it out. She flipped the pages-there were four or five, with Shelly's handwriting on both sides. Elsa found the one she was looking for and thrust it at him.
This isn't easy for me to tell you, but I want you to know the truth about why your father and I broke up. I cheated, honey. I went behind your father's back to have a relationship with Tad. I can't tell you how much I regret the way I handled it. Deception is never the right way to fix a broken relationship. Maybe my relationship with Daddy wasn't fixable, but now I'll never know.
He cursed under his breath.
I'm telling you this because you might hear things that aren't true. Or you might wonder why Daddy moved out, and he might not be willing to tell you. And-this is the most important thing I have to say-if your father finds someone who treats him better than I did, I hope you can make room in your heart to understand that he deserves that.
Shit.
Elsa leaned into him, crying silently. He passed a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sure that was hard to read." On the one hand, he understood why Shelly had felt the need to be honest with her daughter. But maybe it could have waited five years instead of one.
"It's okay," Elsa sobbed.
Right. "Would now be a bad time to mention that Lauren is coming over for dinner?"
Elsa snorted and laughed and cried all at the same time.
Mike grabbed a tissue out of the box on her night table and dabbed at her face. "Your mom was a good person, okay? Only a good person can own up to her worst mistakes like that. It was brave of her."
"I kn-know," Elsa stuttered. "What did yours say?"
"What?" He grabbed a second tissue because the first one was already trashed.
But when he held it up to her face, Elsa snatched it and mopped up herself. "What did your letter say?"
"I didn't read it yet."
"Really? Aren't you curious? Mine was, like, burning a hole in my desk drawer."
He sighed. "I'll read it if you want me to." Maybe then this whole letter-reading business would just go away.
"Do it."
Mike got up off his bed and climbed the flight to the master suite. He glanced around his bedroom and noted that the cleaning woman had been by. Good. He wasn't inviting Lauren to spend the night in a bachelor's dive. It took him a minute to locate the FedEx envelope and slide the letter out.
By the time he slid his thumb under the flap and tore it open, Elsa was waiting in the doorway, her eyes on him. The note was just two paragraphs long.
Mike-
Your letter is short because I'm not going to bother nagging you to buy organic or to learn to cook something more than pancakes and steak.
He burst out laughing.
"What?" Elsa yelped, scampering over.
He held up a hand to keep her at bay, though, until he'd read the whole thing.
. . . You and I never did things the same way, but I already know you're a great dad.
I'm sorry if I upset our girl with my letter, but I had to say it now. Because honey-if she waited for you, go get her back. Life is too damn short. The sacrifice you made for me was extreme, and I want you to know I appreciate it. Now go and be happy while there's still time.
-S
The room went blurry.
"Oh, Daddy! What is it?"
Wordlessly, he passed her the note. When Elsa read the first line, she clapped a hand over her mouth. But then she bit her lip, and the tears started up again. "Oh, man."
Those were his thoughts exactly.
"She was a good person," Elsa said, as if to reassure them both.
"That was never in doubt," he said. "Marriage is hard. Things were complicated with us. It wasn't all your mom's fault, either."
His daughter put her head on his chest and hugged him. "I'm never getting married."
"Uh-huh. I'll remind you of this conversation someday."
"Is Lauren really coming over?"
"She is, sweetie. I invited her."
"Okay. Then I have to go wash my face and change."
"Nah. Why?"
"She always looks so freaking perfect. She has the best clothes."
He chuckled. "Lauren likes to shop, kid. You play your cards right, she'll take you with her sometime."
Elsa squinted up at him. "Don't try to butter me up, okay? I hate it. I can see you coming from a mile away."
Yikes. Just like the boys in Dallas. "You should play hockey. Center, or maybe right wing."
His daughter gave him a half-irritated look and left the room to go and rummage through her closet.
Mike put Shelly's note back in its envelope. He tucked it into the top drawer of his dresser, then went to see if Hans was home from the grocery store yet.
TWENTY-NINE
An hour later Lauren stood in Mike's gleaming kitchen slicing the strawberries she'd picked up on the way here. She'd also brought pound cake and cream to whip.
Until a moment ago, Mike, Elsa, Hans, and Justin had been standing here with her, drinking the first beer of the evening and catching up on news. Hans had told them about his audition for the Miami orchestra tomorrow. "That is life in the arts. You are always scrambling to make a good impression."
"You're going to win this one," Elsa had said with stars in her eyes. "I just know it."
The smile he gave her was so full of love that it broke Lauren's heart. This child had been so unlucky to lose her mother at such a tender age. Thank god there were people in her life to help her through it.
And who knew that pregnancy would make her so emotional? This was the third time today that an act of kindness had made her feel all gooey inside.
The men were outdoors now in Mike's little backyard, and the steaks were on the grill. Elsa came back through the kitchen, and Lauren stopped her. "Hey, I have something for you in my bag. But don't get excited, it's just three kinds of pads. I thought you could try the different styles and see what worked best."
"Oh! Thank you. Really." The girl's eyes darted toward the door, and Lauren could hear the gears turning in her head. She didn't want to have this discussion in front of Hans and company.
"My bag is in the living room," Lauren said, tipping her chin in that direction. "They're right inside the main compartment-grab them now while the coast is clear." Her own hands were sticky with strawberry juice.
Elsa darted away, and Lauren finished up the berries. She sprinkled sugar over them, and a squirt of lemon.
"Steaks are ready!" Mike said, coming through the back door, followed by Hans and Justin. He gave her a blinding smile.
"Okay. I'm done here." Lauren set the bowl of berries to macerate and rinsed her sticky fingers. She could whip the cream after dinner. She carried her glass of water to the table, which was set for six. Lauren would bet any sum of money that Hans had set it, not Mike. The silverware shone in perfect lines in a way that shouted OCD! Which Mike was not.
"Elsa!" Mike called toward the stairs. "Dinner!" He put a steak on Lauren's plate, and then Justin passed her the pasta salad, and a bowl of broccoli.
For a moment, the four adults waited.
Mike got up and walked over to the stairway. "Els! Did you hear me? Dinner is ready!"
She returned something that Lauren couldn't make out.
"Let's start," Mike said, taking his seat. "We can't let the food get cold just because somebody is on her own clock."
After the dishes had been passed, Lauren cut into her steak and took a bite. It was excellent. She wondered when she'd start to feel nauseated by the pregnancy. Apart from a little soreness in her breasts-and a positive pregnancy test-there weren't any symptoms. Yet. She had her first appointment with the obstetrician a week from today, where she could ask all her questions.
It took five or ten minutes until Elsa appeared. She stalked over to the table and sat down.
"Good of you to join us," Mike said, passing her a steak.
Elsa gave him dagger eyes, and Lauren marveled. The kid had been cheerful enough a half hour ago. Hell, teenagers were moody. Even Hans couldn't draw her out. When he asked her a couple of gentle questions about her day at school, she gave him monosyllabic answers.
"What do you think of this wine?" Justin asked, sipping from his glass. "I don't usually go in for Malbec, but the wine guy raved."
"It's spicy," Mike said. "I like it."
"And I like everything," Hans admitted. "He always goes on about the nose or the terroir, and I just nod and smile."
"That's okay, honey," Justin said, laying a hand on his. "I like a cheap date."