Page 125 of Bonfire and Bliss Bookstore

“Smooth, Dad.”

He grins. “She thought so, too. But it was true. I’d never seen someone so beautiful, and the longer I stared, the harder I fell. It only took a few seconds, really. And then she said, ‘Well, what if I sit next to you and we just read side by side, not looking at one another. Would that work?’ I didn’t wait for her to finish her sentence. I scooted over to her side and then, over the next six hours, we talked between studying. We ordered food, and read, and talked about what I was reading. She told me how she wanted to go into publishing. She had such a vivid plan for what she wanted to do with her life and it was inspiring. She was this ray of sunshine, this ball of energy, and I was instantly smitten. The owner finally came over to tell us the place had closed an hour earlier, that he didn’t want to bother us because we looked so content, but that he also really needed to go home. My stomach sank then because I didn’t want to leave her side. Fortunately for me your mother turned to me and said, ‘Want to come back to my place so you can finish reading?’ ”

I try to hold back a groan but fail. “Please don’t share any more of this story.”

My dad laughs. “Nothing happened. But I did spend the weekend in her dorm, just reading and talking. By the time Monday rolled around and I had to hand in my assignment, I knew I was in love with her.” He drops his eyes to the water and sighs. “And that feeling never went away.”

“Then why did you ask for a divorce?”

My dad shakes his head. “That’s not the question you should be asking me.”

“Then what is, Dad?”

“Why she agreed to marry me is what you should be trying to understand.”

I look at him, properly now, and see true sadness written across his face. It’s so visceral I almost don’t want to ask the question. But I need to know. I can’t ever have a successful adult relationship if I don’t understand how two people could love each other as much as my parents did, and maybe still do, and still not make it work.

“Why did she agree to marry you?”

“She was pregnant.”

I do the math, confused, because I’m definitely not that old. But my dad answers my question before I ask.

“We lost the baby after the wedding. After we’d graduated and moved back to Hope Harbor and decorated a nursery. After she gave up her dream of working in publishing, of staying in New York City.” He takes a breath. “Your mother followed me back here so I could get a steady teaching job, and so we could move in with my parents where there was plenty of room for a baby and good schools nearby.”

My stomach drops. Every puzzle piece that never seemed to fit takes a different shape and slots together, finally showing me the true picture.

“We were both devastated,” he pushes on. “And I thought, for a moment, that your mom might leave, that she might realize that jumping into all of this with me was a mistake. But she never did. She stayed. And she seemed happy, especially after we had you. I thought that even though I couldn’t give her that first dream, I could give her another one.”

“She always seemed happy to me,” I tell him, wanting to believe that she didn’t hate being here.

“I think she was,” he says. “But then she started talking about us traveling, or going back to New York when you started school. I knew I owed it to her to make that dream come true so I started looking for jobs. I was ready to do anything to give her that dream because she’d given me all of mine. Dammit, she was all of mine.”

My chest is tight. Because I know what comes next.

“And then your grandfather was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and he deteriorated so quickly.” My father blows out a breath and mutters, “He died so quickly. When your mother told me about the job in New York, she was so excited. It was such an incredible opportunity and I was torn. I couldn’t leave your grandmother alone in this house—she was so heartbroken—but I couldn’t ask your mother to stay, either. I couldn’t ask her to give up anything else for me.”

My head feels heavy and it falls in defeat. Everything makes so much more sense now.

“Did you ever tell her?” I whisper, turning to look at him.

“No. I couldn’t,” he says. “She would have turned down the job. And I couldn’t ask that of her. So I let her go, told her I wanted a divorce. And now she’s—” He smiles and it feels bittersweet. “She’s incredible. She’s made a career for herself and she’s finally doing what she always wanted to do.”

“But she doesn’t have you,” I croak.

Anger builds inside my chest. Regardless of what he felt was the right decision, my mom deserved to have a say.

But then I realize the hypocrisy of that thought. Because doesn’t Penny deserve the same thing? Doesn’t she deserve to know how I feel? To understand why I’m spiraling so badly?

I stare at my father, realizing how alike we are. “You need to tell her.”

He shakes his head.

“Well, I need to tell her,” I say.

“What?” My father’s eyes snap to mine.

“Not Mom. Penny,” I tell him. “You are the only one who can fix what you broke. And so am I. You can fix this, Dad. You should fix this.” I sigh as I move to stand. “When it’s the end of your life, wouldn’t you like to look back and think the woman you loved until your last breath actually knew it? Isn’t that the dream?”