Page 66 of Mic Drop

“No.” Her father moves his foot on the floor. “I didn’t want to confuse the issue.”

“Then why are you here now?”

Jenna has a good point. What’s he trying to prove at this late stage?

“Maybe I’m trying to atone.” He lifts his head. “I loved yourmother but wasn’t man enough for her, and ran when things got difficult. When you were starting kindergarten, Jenna, all I could think of was I couldn’t go through all this again, like I did with your sister. The dances and projects and book reports nearly drove me out of my mind the first time, but I did them for Faith. The second time, though, I didn’t have it in me. Our love wasn’t enough to keep me in the house.”

“So you left us,” Jenna concludes. “No birthday cards, no holiday gifts, nothing.”

His entire being wilts. “I couldn’t give you what you needed. I was there with Faith, though. She always kept me updated with your achievements. I celebrated the big ones.”

Kara’s expression softens. “Like my wedding.”

“And graduations. Congrats on being an anesthesiologist. It’s a big deal.”

As if this dude had any part in her achievements. However, it’s not my thoughts that matter. Kara reaches her hand toward him, which he clasps. I track my gaze to Jenna, who shows no such acceptance. After a minute, my wife simply walks away. I make a hasty retreat after her.

“What are you feeling?” I reach for her shoulders, but she keeps moving.

“Nothing.” She strides forward. “I don’t care if Ma forgave him. If Kara’s welcoming him back into her life. I’m not doing any such thing. He had his chance, and he missed it.” She approaches the buffet table but makes no move to pick up a plate.

“What can I do for you, Sweetheart?”

Tortured gray eyes meet mine. “Nothing.” Her head snaps to one side. “Excuse me, I need to talk with some people.” With that, she’s gone.

Standing alone, I stare at the food but don’t see any of it. What can I do to reach my wife?

I stand by a table filled with photos of Faith throughout her life. My gaze caresses the one of her, Jenna, and me taken duringour first dinner together. Who knew such innocence soon would be shattered?

Luke approaches. “How are you doing, B?”

“I hate that question.” I turn my back to the table and face our manager. “How am I supposed to be doing at my mother-in-law’s funeral?”

“You got me there. Don’t have one of them.” He shrugs. “Or a wife.”

Ever since Faith died, it doesn’t feel as if I have one either. “I can tell you it sucks. Faith accepted me into her family, then she died. Jenna’s a freaking disaster. Her deadbeat father’s here, raising all sorts of issues. So, I’m doing pretty shitty, thanks for asking.” My arms cross over my torso.

“Come here,” he pulls me into a corner. “Let it out. You shouldn’t keep all these emotions locked inside. Rail against God, the world, fate. Whatever. Tell me how you’re really feeling.”

I open my mouth, prepared to share all my secrets, when I get a text. As does Luke. Around the room, I see the other members of my band pulling out their phones as well. “What the hell?”

Luke’s already read the text by the time I fish my phone out of my pocket. “Crap. Why can’t these vultures go away for even one day.”

Filled with foreboding, I click in my text, which is a link from the PR team. Now the whole world knows about Faith’s death, saying the Black Widow struck again. Another link shows Lissa expanding on her lie about me having gotten her pregnant. “For fuck’s sake.”

“Listen to me. We’ll get this under control.”

All the negative emotions bubble inside me. “Do it.” I leave our manager in search of Jenna. When I find her, I want to go all caveman for a different reason.

Austin is hugging her, and Jenna’s hanging onto his body like it’s the only important thing in this entire restaurant. Jealously boils inside me and I take three fast strides toward the pair when my groin pull raises it’s stupid, little hand. I stop short, breathing labored.

I need to shoulder my way between the pair.To do what? Makemy wife feel as if I don’t trust her. Which I do. It’s the fucker physical therapist who I don’t.

After an excruciating period where the two hug like long-lost besties, she steps back. I should take comfort it was she who broke their contact. Plus the fact that if she was hugging PT boy, she doesn’t know about how the media’s running with this story.

Court approaches me. “She doesn’t know yet.”

“No.” I don’t relish being the person to share this awful not-secret.

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