Page 73 of Kiss, Kill, Thrill Me, Daddy

“His fiancé is fighting for his life,” Dad hisses. “Our future son-in-law is in limbo right now. Tate doesn’t need us making this day even worse.”

“What the hell are you two talking about?” I interrupt. “Can someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Mom sighs. “We can’t just keep him in the dark until moving day.” She turns her attention back to me, and there’s quite a bit of fear in her eyes. Yes, this day has certainly brought about endless terror, but for some reason, I don’t think this has to do with Abi. “Tatum?” Mom gives Fee a quick look, waiting for her approving nod before continuing. “Baby, what would you think of us living closer to each other?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” she starts, her voice far less confident than before, “I was hoping you might want me around more often. On a permanent basis.”

“Permanent basis?” She’s speaking gibberish as far as I’mconcerned. It’s like she’s just picking unrelated words and stitching them together for no reason other than confusing her only son. “Just tell me what the hell is happening. I am going through psychological turmoil, right now. This is doing nothing to help.”

“Well, I wanted to ask if you’d mind me tagging along when you go back to Washington.”

“To live with us?” I let the words linger, just trying to envision how Mom and Dad might fit in with our little found family. The longer I think about it, the less I hate the idea. It would be nice to see Mom and Dad more often. I glance at Dad who’s looking everywhere in the room except at me. “Dad? You’re moving to Washington? What about your practice?”

“No,” he says sadly, setting his magazine on the table beside him. “I’m staying here, son.” Why the hell would Mom move without him? They’ve been married for twenty-six years. I know some couples wind up in separate bedrooms, but separate parts of the country?

“And you’ll ... what? Come visit us once or twice a month? I don’t see how that’s conducive to a healthy marriage.”

He shakes his head. “I won’t be coming once a month, either.”

“You could,” Mom quickly interjects. “I don’t mind if you tag along. You know that.”

“I can’t.” He sounds so defeated, and, for the life of me, I can’t make sense of any of this. “I made my decision, and I’m sticking to it. Lindsay, I can’t sit around every day, watching you fall in ...” His words end when he sees my confused face, and I watch as he closes his eyes and sighs. “Tate, come over here.” He pats his thigh, and maybe it’s just because he’s had Benji in his lap for the last few days so he’s more comfortable with the action, but the thought of snuggling up to him has my heart thumping faster. Dad’s offering what Abi can’t give me at the moment. A physical connection. Something tangible to hold on to. I’d like to say my behavior is something I can take pride inlater down the line, but it isn’t. My actions aren’t brave or courageous. They’re the act of a scared little boy who needs to be assured. “Come on, buddy. Dad’s got you.”

I stand up from my seat and shuffle toward Dad. Once I’m in front of him, he holds his arms open, and I happily oblige, falling into his lap and wrapping my arms around his neck. It’s not the same as when Abi holds me. There are no roaming hands or shaky breaths—and thank the Goddess for that. I mean, my dad’s a handsome man, but no. Just no—but it’s comforting, nonetheless.

“Kiddo,” Dad says, his voice strong and assuring. “Things between your mom and I have been shaky lately. We’ve been off for a while. After you moved in with the Bens and Austin, I thought we were just going through empty-nest syndrome. We put on a show, but without you there for us to dote on, all the little cracks started to show. Then, you left with Abdulov. You left, and we knew we had to let you go. You got swept away in a whirlwind romance, and we did what we could to support it, but without you there to focus on, we realize somewhere along the way, we lost sense of who we are. Of what we want.” When I look in his eyes, I don’t see my big protective papa bear. I see a man too scared to own the truth. A flawed, frightened man who doesn’t want to hurt his kid any more than he has to.

“Are you getting a divorce?”

Dad sniffs again, probably wanting to look away, but holding strong and looking me in the eye like a man. Just the way he taught me. “We signed the papers a week before you got here,” he finally says, and it feels like he’s just sucker-punched me. “We wanted to tell you, buddy. I promise, we didn’t want to keep it from you; we just didn’t want to ruin your big day. You were finally coming home, and you’re in love. How could we tell you without ruining everything?”

“It’s okay,” I say, surprising myself. I give Mom a look, wanting to make sure she’s okay. She doesn’t look anywhere near okay, but Fee’s got an arm around her shoulders, her handrising and falling against my mom’s sleeve. “You don’t hate each other, do you? Because I really, really don’t want to divide holidays because you can’t stand the sight of each other.”

“We don’t hate each other,” he says.

“Then why won’t you come, too?” There’s a small spark of hope in me at the thought of getting to see both my parents every day at the Winawana Wagon House, and it’s all I can think of. If I can just convince Dad to come along for the ride, maybe I can have it all. We’re both silent for an uncomfortable beat, neither speaking, barely breathing. “Come with us.”

“Tatum?” Mom says, getting my attention. When I look over, she’s got her hand locked with Fee’s. “I care for your friend, baby.”

Suddenly, it hits me. The shared glances. The phone calls. Those random selfies Fee’s been sending my mom. My stomach is spinning under my skin, and all I can do is hold on to the edge of the chair. It feels like the entire world’s been torn apart, inch by inch. Fiona and my mom? She can’t be serious. My mom’s not even bi.

“Oh, no,” I say, pointing a finger at them. “Absolutely not. I can’t fucking deal with this right now.” I jump up from the chair, just needing to be away from ...this. “I just can’t. Abi is in there, probably dying, and now, we’ve got some last-minute bi awakening?”

“Cheeky boy—” Fee says, but I cut her off.

“How could you? That’s my mom.”

She cocks her head to the side, her expression hardened, as she slowly turns her gaze to the double doors keeping Abi hidden from us. She holds her hand to her chest, tapping softly. “Strange things, these hearts of ours. Before you and I met, mine belonged to two men. Then, you and your friend took them from me. A lesser woman might have killed you for that.”

“A lesser woman is welcome to try.”

The corner of her lip curves upward. “My point is, the heart can’t control what it can’t control. You fell in love with yourMurder Daddy.” She turns and smiles affectionately at my mother. “And I think I may have found my Murder Mommy.”

I open my mouth to read her to absolute filth—because we arenotmaking Murder Mommy a thing—but stop when the double doors slide open. A man in black scrubs walks our way, but each step he takes seems to take forever. He doesn’t really look like a doctor, nor does this place look like a hospital, but he’s got blood specks on his cheeks and forehead, so I know he’s the man we’ve been waiting for.

“Tatum?” he says.

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