I turn away.
Besides, didn't he just accuse me of running off and having a kid with some guy right after he left? Even if I had, it would've been completely in my right, completely understandable, and absolutely none of his business.
The worst part of it all? The fact that it is entirely and completely part of his business.
Merde. Shit.
“Can you take me home, please?” I ask, turning away and bending down to pick up my heels. I don't acknowledge his words—I'm jealous—or his confession—you're my constant—because I can't. I can't do this right now, can't do this ever.
He left.
And he didn't come back for over ten years.
That's a long time to make someone wait.
“I think Gill's trying to get back together with me,” I blurt as I stare across the breakfast table at Cliff. Aveline's in the dining room working furiously at her computer while Solène naps on the couch. I have no idea where Gilleon is. Since yesterday's … fiasco, I'm going to call it, I haven't seen him much except when he passes in and out of the house on business.
Until this morning, I didn't have the courage to tell my stepfather the story. Now that I have, I can see why I waited. The look on his face is hard to interpret. I watch in tense anticipation as he rubs at the gray stubble on his chin.
“He … he really had the nerve to take you out, ask you that, and then respond the way he did? I'm … that boy …” Cliff runs his hands down his face. His eyes, so like Gill's, tell me a thousand times over how sorry he is. But I asked a long time ago that my stepfather stop apologizing for his son. “I oughta take him over my knee and give him the belt the way I never did when he was a kid. Maybe that's what's wrong with him?”
I laugh and cover my mouth with a hand.
“Papa, as much as I'd love to see that, I have a feeling he could bench press both of us at the same time. Not sure you'd be able to subdue him.”
“Ah, but you'd be surprised how a father's wrath can transform a man. Parents have been known to lift cars when their children are trapped underneath. When a child's in trouble—no matter how old they are—a dad can find the strength if he needs it to do anything for them.”
“But Gill's not in trouble,” I say, wagging a finger at him.
“No, but you are,” he says, reaching over the table and taking my hand. My heart warms and a smile spreads over my lips.
“I'm not in trouble though, Papa. Really.”
“If you kissed him back, then I'd say you are. You're not truly thinking of taking him back?”
“No!” I say, setting my coffee down with a thump. It sloshes over the edge and onto the table, some beautiful gray and blue and green striped thing made out of reclaimed wood and polyed until it shines. “Of course not. And I mean, I'm not even sure if that's what he was really saying.”
“It's what he was saying,” Aveline says from behind me, making me jump as she steps into the kitchen, her red hair braided down her back, looking fierce in a black tank and jeans. She reminds me of Lara Croft or something, some badass video game chick. I stare at her back as she pours coffee and then turns around to look at me. “For that emotionless robot to say anything like what you described is a miracle. I've known Gill for about, uh, I don't know, six years now, and I've never seen him act like he gives two shits about anything at all.”
“Thanks for eavesdropping,” I say, picking up a croissant from the center of the table and biting into it. Aveline shrugs and pauses as the front door opens and the sound of Gill's footsteps move towards the kitchen.
Even though I can't see him, I can feel him pausing in the archway behind me.
“Good morning,” he says, his words firm but also, somehow, tentative, like he knows he's the current subject of conversation. I give Cliff a look across the table that says please don't say anything, and he nods at me, almost imperceptibly. I'm sure Gill notices though. He can pick up on stuff like that but somehow can't seem to see that the little girl with dark hair and blue eyes is his daughter. Go figure.
“Good morning,” Aveline says when neither Cliff nor I respond.
“Bonjour,” Solène says, surprising me. I turn around and smile at her as she steps into the kitchen and around Gilleon, moving to the table to steal a croissant. “It's always polite to greet someone when they're making an effort,” she scolds, giving me and Cliff looks.
“You're very right,” Cliff tells her, looking up at his son as he enters the room. “Bonjour, mon fils. Comment ça va?” Gill pauses next to the sink and stares at his dad for a long moment before flashing me a look. It only lasts a split second, but I have a feeling he knows I've confessed everything to his father. It's no secret that Cliff and I are close.