Page 124 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

That’s not the scary thing to me, though. It’s the alternative. It’s what happened to my parents. It’s how one day you can think someone loves you only to find out that they want a divorce.

I need an answer. I need to know what happened all those years ago if I’m ever going to figure out how to make it work with Penny. If she’ll ever talk to me again.

Part of me wants to go to Penny right now, to apologize and tell her how I feel, but I know I won’t have the right words until I speak to my dad. I’ve waited a decade to have this conversation. I can’t wait another hour.

Back at the house I find my father out by the dock cleaning the boat. The wind has picked up since this morning and the white caps roll over the deep blue water, tossing the red sailboat from side to side.

When my dad notices my expression, his face drops. He’s barefoot, jeans rolled up past his ankles, as he steps off the boat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I saw you and Mom.”

“Saw us what?”

“Kissing. I saw you kissing her.”

My father’s face pales. “I’m sorry. I—” He shakes his head. “It was a mistake. It won’t happen again.”

“Do you still love her?”

My father shakes his head again as he looks toward the boat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters,” I argue. “You kissed her! How dare you lead her on after everything you’ve done to her.”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Do you still love her?” I grit out.

“It’s not that simple.”

I step in front of the boat, forcing his eyes to mine. And then slowly repeat the question. “Do you still love her?”

“Of course I still love her!” he bellows. “She’s the love of my life. That didn’t just end when we signed the papers.”

He drops his head in shame. All the fight drains from his body and my anger disappears with it.

“Then why did you let her go?”

My father moves his head from side to side and then points to the end of the dock. “Can we sit?”

I follow as he leads us down the long, weathered planks that heave with every wave. He drops down and dangles his feet in the water. I slip off my shoes, roll up my jeans, and do the same. The water is frigid despite the gorgeous day but something about the saltwater against my skin serves to calm my frayed nerves.

“Did your mother ever tell you how we met?”

I look over at him with a frown. I’ve heard the story of how my grandparents met dozens of times, but I can’t remember now if my parents ever talked about how they did. I know it was during college, and that they were married before graduation, but I’m not sure I ever heard the moment they actually laid eyes on each other.

“No, I don’t think she did.”

A smile reaches my father’s eyes. “It was our sophomore year of college. I had a paper due for my writing class that Monday and my roommate was one of those people who could only study with music on—blasting—so I left campus to find a coffee shop.”

I don’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

“The place was slammed with students. It was midterms, and late fall in New York, so everyone was getting their coffee fix and hiding from the cold. I was just about to give up on getting my own table when someone in the corner caught my eye. She was seated in the window—a cozy-looking shawl swallowing her whole—and was wearing the biggest smile on her face. ‘You looking for somewhere to study?’ she asked me. I had never seen her before, but of course she struck up a conversation.”

I smile. That sounds like my mother.

“I told her I had a paper to finish and she told me I could sit with her if I promised not to flirt or try to make conversation.” He chuckles. “I held my hand up as if I was taking an oath and said she had my word. And I followed through. I sat down, took out my book, and focused on what I had to do. But about ten minutes in, I could feel her staring at me. After another fifteen minutes, I heard her huff. It was this adorable sound, as if she was really trying hard to get my attention, and when I finally looked up, she said, ‘You’re really not going to try to talk to me?’ I told her I was following her rules and I really did need to study, though I couldn’t help but add, ‘and if I look at you too long, I’m afraid I’ll never look away.’ ”