Page 25 of Something like Desire

“You smellnice.”

Dad looks down at the floor tiles and scuffs one with his slipper, but he doesn’t say anything.

Maybe that wasn’t the best opening for him to tell his daughter he’s seeing someone.

Like, what would he even say?Oh, you approve of my new girlfriend’s perfume? Great. Hope you approve of her, too, despite the massive age gap and the fact that I might be dating her just to piss your mother off.

I clear my throat. “What’s new with you lately?” I hope that’s a safer place to start. Simple. Great open-ended question to spark some new revelations.

“Just trying to do some decluttering,” Dad says, gesturing behind him at the house, which looks a hundred times more untidy than usual, with a stack of papers on the coffee table and loads of books and boxes on the dining room table.

“Would you like any help with that?”

“No, no,” Dad says, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m retired. I have plenty of time to go through old things. Come in and sit down.”

I follow him into the living room, and it’s obvious Mom hasn’t been here in a while. Takeout containers clutter multiple surfaces, alongside a few empty beer cans. Her favorite prints—Salvador Dalí’sSwans Reflecting Elephantsand Claude Monet’sImpression, Sunrise—are gone.

Did Dad take them down because they reminded him of her? Or did Mom ransack the place and take all her stuff?

Does she live with Nicholas now? Or... yikes, does she live at Heart Hotel? Daily baths in that gaudy heart-shaped bathtub? What has she resorted to?

Instead of opening my mouth to let the stream of questions that are running through my mind come tumbling out of my mouth, I opt to practice self-control. I’m going to let Dad lead the conversation. He obviously isn’t ready to talk about his rebound romance yet and I know that if he had his way, he’d still be with Mom.

“It’s been a minute since we caught up,” I finally say, my eyes skimming his facial expression, which looks closed off, neutral, with a tight-lipped smile. “How are you doing with everything?”

He shrugs. “I’m fine.”

I study him carefully. He looks a lot better than I thought he would. His hair is carefully combed and he’s clean-shaven, looking handsome in a blue golf shirt and crisp khakis. “I’m sorry Mom did this to you,” I say, pulling him into another brief hug.

“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Dad says, smiling at me reassuringly. “It’s fine, honestly.”

It seems true. He’s doing amazingly well for someone whose wife is cheating on him. But the first real test will be Gia’s wedding. Dad will be forced to handle it face-to-face. Mom’s so smitten that she’s definitely going to rub it in, even if it’s unintentionally. From what I’ve seen, she and Nicholas can’t go longer than a minute without putting their hands all over each other.

I vow to talk to Gia about us both encouraging Dad to bring his new girlfriend. He’d feel a heck of a lot better if he walked into the venue hand in hand with that beautiful woman, instead of shuffling in, all alone, while everyone gapes at Nicholas and Mom, and then looks back at Dad to see how he’s dealing with the situation.

Him coming in with his date would make him look like he’s moved on and he’s okay with everything. There would be no feeling sorry for him and awkward conversations about how he’s been doing. People would admire him as someone who didn’t sit around moping. Of course, Gia will probably have an opinion about it, will say something like,It’s bad enough that Mom’s bringing a date without Dad adding to the scandal, but if I explain things to her, she’ll understand that it’ll be good for Dad. It will also be good for Mom to get a taste of her own medicine, and for the guests, too, who won’t have to pity my dad on Gia’s special day.

Dad disappears into the kitchen and comes back with a plate of Oreos. Then he vanishes again and returns with two glasses of milk. He flips on the TV and settles on some cheesy comedy rerun. We plop down on the couch, munching and sipping. We laugh every few minutes, and it’s obvious—Dad has zero interest in diving into any big conversations right now. He just wants to hang out, pretend everything’s normal, and bribe me with sugar into going along with it. I mean, it’s been working ever since I was a little kid—it’s a good strategy.

“I’m going to meet some friends at the golf club in half an hour,” he says, breaking a long stretch of neither of us speaking.

I glance at him curiously. “You joined a golf club? I didn’t think you liked golf!”

Dad’s eyes gleam with enthusiasm. “I needed something to do. It’s pretty great, actually.”

“My dad, the golfer. I like how that sounds. And it’s a great idea. That’s awesome for you.” I pat his shoulder. He doesn’t exactly look like someone in need of comfort, after all. “Well, I’d better get going anyway. I have work in the morning.”

Dad walks me to the door, and my heart pinches a little. It hits me that there might never be another moment where both he and Mom stand here together, saying goodbye. This is the new normal now. Strained conversation and all.

“Have fun at golf. I love you,” I say as he wraps me in a bear hug.

“Talk to you at the wedding,” Dad replies.

I tilt my head back so we’re looking at each other. “Or, you know... we can talkbeforethe wedding. I’m here for you. You know that, right?”

“Lexi, it’s okay.” His brow furrows, and he rests a steady hand on my shoulder. “You don’t need to feel bad about any of this. I think we all just needed a bit of space to process.”

“I still can’t believe she did this to you.”