Page 72 of The Thing About My Rival

“Excellent,” Suzanna says, putting down the knife and placing one of the plates of tart in front of the empty seat opposite me. “Come move over here, Drew. I never understand why you always sit with your back to the view.” She pulls out the chair. “And you need to enjoy it while you can.”

“What does that mean?” Are they moving? I can’t imagine my father living anywhere other than Boston. It’s like he wouldn’t be himself if he weren’t in the city.

“It’s one of the reasons we invited you over,” she says. “That and we love seeing you, of course.”

Dad concentrates on cutting off the point of his lemon tart with the side of his fork.

“We’re selling this place and moving full time to the house on Cape Cod,” Suzanna says with a tone of victory befitting the battle she’s undoubtedly fought to get him to agree to it.

Suzanna got the Cape Cod house in her divorce from her first husband, who was something big in finance that I never understood. I remember her telling me once that the oceanfront home was the only thing she cared about getting in her settlement from “the bastard.” It’s her favorite place on the planet.

And it’s easy to see why. I’ve been there a few times, and somehow the wide-open space, the sea air, and the private path to the beach take you away from everything mentally as well as physically.

Even my dad relaxes around the edges there. I remember one evening during my final summer break from college, we dug out an old game of Monopoly and the three of us played on the deck. Way too much wine was consumed and we had a surprisingly good time. Suzanna was absolutely terrible and went bankrupt twice, the second time after she’d stolen money from my dad when he went to the restroom. There was one point at which even he had to wipe a tear of laughter from his eye.

It might have been more than a decade ago, but it’s those rare moments of light and fun that make me think there’s a chance things could be better between us and stop me from giving up on him.

Anyway, being there full time has to be better for his health than staying in the city. Good for Suzanna for fighting for it. Maybe when you don’t find your person till later in life, you do whatever it takes to make the rest of your life last as long as possible.

“With the sale of the club we can both completely retire,” she says. “It’s all invested wisely, though, to be sure you’ll be well looked after when we’re gone. And for us, we’ll never have to worry about a thing.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned about an inheritance. It hadn’teven crossed my mind.” With the club out of the picture, I don’t care about anything else. “But I think it’s a great plan for you to move out there. Another brilliant female idea,” I tell Suzanna.

“I’m not so sure,” Dad says. “I might feel like an old cow being put out to pasture for its final days. It’s a big change. It’s nice to go out there every few months, but my brain might rot without the buzz of the city.”

“And your heart might explodewithit.” Suzanna points her fork at his chest.

And he might be more into it than he’s letting on, because the tension in his face fades as his eyes lift from his plate and settle on Suzanna, a mix of gratitude and teenage crush behind them.

So it’s not that he’s not capable of love and appreciation.

Maybe it’s just that he’s not capable of lovingme, of appreciatingme.

Is that because of how I am, or because of howheis?

I always used to think there was something wrong with me. But now I wonder if there’s something wrong with him. Like maybe he should just never have been a parent.

“It’ll be good for you,” Suzanna says.

Perhaps she’s right in more ways than just his health.

She turns to me. “We’ll show you some pictures of the new landscaping around the pool once we’ve finished dinner.”

She taps the plate of pie across the table from me with her fork, and I rise from my chair to make my way around to face the view.

Butwasit just like what Hugo did?

No.

No, it wasn’t.

It was totally different.

Suzanna backed me up against my dad because she’s kind. Hugo barged in to defend me from Ramon because he has some sort of hero complex. They arenotthe same thing.

I squish the pillow into an even tighter ball and roll onto my side. The pub below fell silent long ago, and I refuse to look at my phone to see what time it is because it’s likely worryingly close to the alarm going off.

I slept for a couple hours when I first got into bed, but then I woke up and, while I was trying to pee while also concentrating on staying slightly asleep, it dawned on me that Suzanna had done something very similar to what Hugo did.

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