Page 141 of Never Kiss and Tell

Shit, this is going to fucking suck.

“I want to talk about Mom.”

Dad stills, the entire room freezing around us as if the world stopped. The silence that stretches on is deafening.

After what seems like forever, Dad clears his throat.

“I was wondering when we were finally going to talk about this.”

I nod, staring down at the carpet.

“I’ve been putting it off.”

“You’ve been living in the guilt.” Dad sits forward on the couch, crossing his hands and leaning forward on his knees. “Let me tell you what I know about that night.”

Shit.

“You worked. You took care of your mom. You slept a couple hours. Then you woke up and did it all over again for almost a year. It’s only natural to want a night away.”

“I was an idiot. I should have been there.”

“Youwerethere. How could you have known what was going to happen? She was by herself while you were working. It could have happened then.”

“But it didn’t. She called me and I didn’t see the calls until it was too late.”

Guilt crashes in on me, suffocating like the weight of the ocean. This is why I bury that night down in the darkest pits ofmy mind because facing it, knowing what I’ve done, is worse than living with the dull ache every day.

“What is it going to take for you to forgive yourself?” Dad asks, raising his brows at me.

How do I even answer that?

“Do you want me to tell you I don’t blame you? Hmm? Well, I don’t blame you.”

“There’s no way,” I shake my head, but he holds his hand up to stop me before I can say anything else.

“I don’t blame you. I blame the cancer. I blame the world we live in for making it so expensive to live. Hell, I even blamed God for a little bit because he took such a remarkable woman from my kids.” He sucks in a deep breath. I catch the glint in his eyes as wetness pulls at the corners. “But I never blamed you.”

God, I can feel my own eyes starting to tear. I don’t fucking cry. Dad doesn’t cry, but here we are about to bawl like children.

“I mean it,” he nods and for the first time, I actually fucking believe it.

I lean back in the chair, uncomfortable because a heavy weight seems to be slipping off my shoulders.

“Dad,” I start, pausing to suck in a deep breath. My chest aches, making it harder to breathe. I imagine it’s the disappearance of the hate for myself that’s kept me going this long. Mom’s death is fresh, all over again. I hated myself too much to reallyfeelthe impact of her loss. “Why did you divorce? I never asked.”

He chuckles, but it lacks amusement.

“You didn’t notice? I was a drunk. Gambling all our money away. She didn’t like it.”

Oh. I never knew that.

“Your mom had her faults, we all do, but mine were what drove us apart because I refused to work on them. You’ve got to work at a marriage. That’s something I don’t know that Tom and Andi are prepared for.”

I grit my teeth. Tom and Andi. I still don’t fucking trust Tom. Especially, not after what I heard him say to Bailey.

“Your mom would have loved Bailey,” Dad says quietly, like he’s afraid of scaring me.

“Yeah, she would have.”

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