Page 174 of Cheater

My parents just stare for a beat before Dad says, “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

“It’s nearly nine o’clock. I’ll take herbal tea. Have decaf, Harold; you know you can’t drink coffee this time of night,” Mom says.

“Decaf sounds fine,” Derek says. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance. We came here from the hotel we’d planned to stay at. These were to be our traveling clothes for the morning to leave for our honeymoon, but we hurried here when that gossip blog hit our radar.”

“Oh?” Mom inquires.

“I’ll explain once the coffee’s done, if that’s all right,” Derek returns.

“Of course, please sit,” Mom invites.

“Tea or decaf, Chloe?” Dad asks.

“Just water for me, thanks, Dad,” I manage.

Dad salutes me and heads to the kitchen.

Mom sits on one couch, Derek and I sit on the other one that faces her.

“Pam, where’s the decaf?” Dad calls out.

Mom excuses herself and joins Dad in the kitchen.

I look at Derek. “Please let me deal with the rest of this.”

“Why?” he asks, looking perplexed.

“Because God knows what’ll come out of your mouth,” I mutter.

“Do you have a plan for how to deal with this?”

“No.”

“I’ve got it. Don’t sweat it.”

I guess it all had to come out eventually, right? Instead of waiting for the right time to tell my family, no time like now, I guess. One less thing to worry about. Because I already have more than enough to stress about. Before I can ponder it further, Mom is back, Dad with her, and carrying a tray with cups, milk and sugar, along with a bottle of water.

“Coffee’s on. I’ll fetch it in a minute,” Dad says.

“You have a lovely home, Doctor and Mrs. Turner,” Derek says.

“Thank you, Derek,” Dad says. “Since you’re becoming part of the family, again, it’s Hal and Pam.”

“Appreciated. Chloe spoke so fondly of her childhood home. I see why,” he adds.

My parents smile at him, but don’t reply. I follow Derek’s eyes, which are pointed at the mantle over the fireplace.

In the center of it sits an eight by ten framed family portrait of the four of us. It was taken when Bryan was twelve, I was thirteen. They’re all light brown-haired. I’m a dark brunette. They’re all brown-eyed. I’m blue-eyed. The photo wasn’t taken long after I found out I’m adopted and every time I’ve looked at that picture all I’ve seen is how one of these things is not like the other.

“So… married?” Dad prompts. “That’s a surprise.”

“City hall?” Mom asks and there’s distaste there.

And as much as it’s a subject I don’t want to address, I’m grateful that there’s not enough dead air for Derek to bring up a taboo subject like my brother. At least I hope he has the good sense to avoid that topic. Although I’m not sure he does.

“I know it was very sudden, but…” I say, and let it hang.

My parents wait.

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