Page 65 of Breathless With Her

It was a perfect two-story home with blue shutters and white trim. It looked as if it had been power-washed recently because there didn’t seem to be a speck of dirt on it. There was a large porch with a hanging swing and a screen door that had glass on it that looked as if it let in the sunlight when they wanted to open the wooden door.

There was a paved driveway and a walkway through the yard.

There was even a white picket fence.

I didn’t even know they made white picket fences for front yards anymore.

Most homes only had back fences. Hardly ever white. And certainly never with actual pickets.

But this whole neighborhood had white picket fences around the lots. Not on every one, but enough of them that it seemed to be part of the HOA.

My father lived in a perfect house, with perfect paint, a perfect yard, and a perfect little white picket fence.

Maybe he was just visiting.

Maybe this wasn’t his home.

Maybe he hadn’t left his family for this.

Maybe he hadn’t leftmefor this.

This had to be wrong. This wasn’t where he lived. I rechecked the address and shook my head. Maybe the private detective got it wrong.

Well, I could sit here and stare, or I could go see.

Maybe I would just see.

The PI hadn’t told me anything else. I hadn’t asked him to dig deeper. He’d just said that he found Dad and offered to look more into it so I would know what I was walking into.

But I hadn’t wanted to know. It wasn’t about the money, I just didn’t want to know.

But now I was facing it, head-on, and I had to take the next steps. I had to figure it out.

So, I pulled my purse strap over my head and got out of the car, my hands shaking.

I locked the doors and looked both ways before I crossed the street, then smiled at a little girl on her bike as she waved. Her hand went right back to the handlebars as her mom chased after her with laughter in her voice.

The little training wheels on each side of the back wheel shook ever so slightly. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d had kids like my sister.

Would I be that mom?

I hoped I would be.

My mom had tried, but then she hadn’t been enough for us. We hadn’t been enough for her. But Jenn had been there for me.

My Dad hadn’t.

He had been somewhere else all this time. And now, he was here.

I unlatched the gate, walked through, and closed it behind me.

No one really paid much attention to me. All of their eyes were on their own things, their minds on their own worries. But I knew they saw me. I knew they saw a woman in jeans and a top with boots, her blond hair braided behind her head.

I looked normal—hopefully not like a serial killer or a salesperson.

I didn’t know what I wanted them to see. I could only focus on taking each step in front of me. One, and then the next.

Before I could take my next breath, I was there. The door was firmly closed as my finger pressed the doorbell.

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