Page 17 of To Belong Together
Tristan and Luke must’ve disapproved of the show enough to sit it out, but now they traded uncertain glances.
Mark watched them exit to the basement before focusing on John again. “Kate either knows or has reason to suspect they were up to this.”
“Based on what?”
“Robby says she knows Tanner’s been to strip clubs for other bachelor parties, and it’s never been a big deal.”
His lungs constricted, and heat rushed his face. “She’s okay with it.”
“Look, Angie was—what?—fifteen when you moved out? That means Kate was twelve, just a kid. It’s been over a decade. People change. Stacy and Kate might not be who you remember.”
“I kept in touch.” He’d checked in with his family at least once a week from the get-go and had treated them all to week-long vacations together once each summer ever since his income had made it possible.
If Kate had changed this much, he should’ve heard long before tonight. And from Kate herself, not Mark. Angie had met and married the guy during college. Now, he was more of an expert on the family than John?
“You’ve been generous, but that might encourage them to keep some things to themselves, you know?” Mark lifted both hands in surrender.
Mark might as well have punched him. Stacy and Kate were playing the same game Nicole had? Lying to him so he’d spend on them?
He wanted to dismiss the idea, but he’d done that far too easily when he’d first caught Nic in a lie.
“It’s not that I approve of it.” Mark swallowed, apparently alarmed by whatever he saw on John’s face. “I don’t. Ang and I have been praying for them for years—Stace, Robby, Kate, and now Tanner too. All I’m saying is, I’m not surprised.”
Stace? Since when did anyone call Stacy that?
Love for family bound him to play nice and try to make a difference in their lives. But first, he needed to spend a few minutes of this awful day alone.
“I’m getting some air.”
Mark nodded. “Take your time.”
7
The aroma of her parents’ oatmeal and coffee took Erin right back to her childhood. She’d let herself into Mom and Dad’s house and found them seated in the breakfast nook. Mom added dried fruit to her bowl of oatmeal while Dad paged through the paper, his coffee nearby. Whether he still understood the articles, he seemed to enjoy the habit.
“Erin. Want the comics?” Dad shuffled through the sections of the paper.
“No, I’m here for the car. You’re first on the docket, but I also have to put a new idle air control valve in mine.”
“Just like your father.” Mom probably hadn’t meant the observation as a compliment, but Erin stood a little straighter.
Few people would bother with a twenty-year-old car, but Dad had taught her that a little TLC went a long way. If she did her job right, she’d see her odometer flip past 300,000 miles in the next few months.
She’d been sad to sell his old car when dementia took mechanics away from him, but at that point, Mom had needed a reliable vehicle that didn’t require Dad’s constant tinkering.
Mom sprinkled cinnamon over her oatmeal.
Erin inhaled the spicy scent, tempted to stay awhile, breathe easy, and read the comics like old times, but then she wouldn’t get her work done. She slid the key from the table. “I’ll have it back before lunch unless something happens with the brakes.”
“The brakes?” Mom asked.
“Dad said they’re squeaking.”
He continued reading, as if oblivious.
“I haven’t heard anything.” Mom stirred her oatmeal, her spoon chinking against the ceramic.
“Okay. I’ll check it out either way.”
