Page 20 of Kiss Collector
At ten thirty that night I get another text while I’m mindlessly scrolling videos. This time from Monica.
OMG. Major drama. John broke up w Lin. Now she’s wasted & making a scene.
Oh, crap. Poor Lin. Granted, we’ve all been waiting for this to happen, but still.
I call Monica and it’s loud when she answers.
“Seriously, Zae. I wish you were here.” Her voice sounds thick.
“You need to drag her away,” I tell Monica. “Get her out of there.”
“I want to, but we’ve all been drinking. John was supposed to be our ride home!”
Double crap. My girls need me.
“I’ll come get you guys.”
“Oh, thank God!” Monica sighs into the phone. “I freaking love you.”
I redo my curls into a ponytail, making it higher and cuter, switch out my oversize T-shirt for a fitted black one, and pull on my snuggest jeans. I slip my toes into sparkly flip-flops, despite the chill in the night air, wishing there was time to do my makeup, but there isn’t.
I grab my tote purse and run to tell Mom where I’m going. She probably won’t like it, but she’s always given me a lot of freedom, and now I have her guilt on my side. I lift my hand to knock on her door and hear her voice on the other side—a low, emotional murmur. I press my ear to the door.
“—not going to lie for you anymore, Xander. Hurry up and tell them or I will!”
Tell us what? My chest tightens. I knock twice and open the door before she answers. She hangs up, and we stare at each other. Her eyes are bloodshot and she looks older, crumpled in the middle of the bed.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“What’s going on with Dad?”
She blinks, an innocent look plastered on her face.
My voice softens. “Tell me the truth. Please, Mom.”
A war of indecision battles in her eyes.
“I really want him to tell you himself,” she says.
It feels like a stampede of horses is thundering through my chest.
“Justtellme.”
She swallows hard. As each word is torn from her mouth, it seems to pain her. “Your dad... he’s not moving in with a regular roommate.”
Different scenarios tumble end over end through my imagination, landing on the most terrible option.
“He’s moving in with a woman?”
I wait for her to scoff and tell me “Of course not!” but she doesn’t. Instead her chin dips in a small nod.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Like... a girlfriend?”
Again with a slow, small nod. My stomach is clenched by an evil fist.
Dad has been cheating. I lose respect for the man I’ve always admired in that moment and it’s a horrible, disgusting feeling, as if something once precious has shown its true nature and turned to rust. Dad is no better than Wylie. Is no man capable of being loyal to the woman he supposedly loves?
“Honey, please,” she says. “Don’t be angry with him.”
