“I know.”
“Don’t turn her against me.”
Claire stared.
“That may be the cruelest thing you’ve said tonight.”
His face changed.
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
She got into the car.
“I will tell her the truth in age-appropriate language.”
“Claire.”
“I will not tell her you don’t love her.”
“I will not call Vanessa names.”
“I will not ask her to choose.”
Ryan looked ashamed.
Claire closed the door.
Then lowered the window.
“But I also won’t lie so you can remain the version of yourself you prefer.”
She drove away.
At home, Sophie was on the kitchen floor painting her nails blue.
The sight nearly broke Claire.
Fourteen.
Long brown hair.
Ryan’s eyes.
Claire’s stubborn chin.
Still a child despite the adult-sized sweatshirt she had stolen from Claire’s closet.
Sophie looked up.
“You’re home.”
Then:
“You’re wearing the Lisbon dress.”
Claire stopped.
“What?”
Sophie smiled.
“I saw the hotel confirmation on the printer.”
Claire almost laughed.
“So much for surprise.”
“Dad knows?”
“No.”
Sophie’s smile disappeared.
“Oh.”
Claire put her handbag on the counter.
“Can we talk?”
Every teenager recognized those words as danger.
Sophie capped the nail polish immediately.
“What happened?”
Claire sat across from her on the floor.
Not because she planned to.
Because standing felt impossible.
“Your dad and I have been having problems.”
Sophie rolled her eyes.
“I know.”
Claire almost smiled.
“Yes.”
“How bad?”
Claire took a breath.
“Bad.”
Sophie stared.
“Are you divorcing?”
Children rarely wanted the gentle runway adults prepared.
They wanted the destination.
“I think probably.”
Sophie’s face tightened.
“Because of Vanessa?”
Claire froze.
“What?”
Sophie looked away.
Claire’s pulse quickened.
“What do you know about Vanessa?”
“Nothing.”
“Sophie.”
Her daughter’s eyes filled.
“I saw them.”
“When?”
“March.”
Claire felt sick.
“Where?”
“At Dad’s office.”
Sophie continued quickly.
“You were at Grandma’s.”
Of course.
Her mother had been hospitalized.
Ryan picked Sophie up after school one afternoon.
Took her to Meridian because he had a meeting.
“I went looking for him.”
Sophie stared at her hands.
“They were kissing.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
The question came out wounded.
Wrong.
Sophie’s face immediately changed.
Claire corrected herself.
“No.”
She shook her head.
“That isn’t fair.”
Sophie looked up.
“You didn’t have to tell me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
Claire touched her daughter’s knee.
“What happened?”