Chapter Twelve

After We Fell

chapter twelve




I open the cabinet in search of something to eat. I need to soak up the liquor coursing through me.

    “She’s so mad at us,” Richard says, watching me.

    “Yeah, she is.” I can’t help but smile at the way her face was flushed with anger, her small fists bunched at her sides. She was furious.

    It’s not funny . . . well, it but it shouldn’t be.

    “Is my daughter one to hold grudges?”

    I look at him for a minute. It’s weird for a father to have to ask a boyfriend about his own daughter’s habits. “Obviously not. You’re in our kitchen eating all my damn cereal.” I shake the empty box.

    He smiles. “Guess you’re right,” he says.

    “Yeah, usually am.” Actually, that couldn’t be further from the fucking truth. “Guess it sucks for you that you showed up now, when she’s moving in less than a week,” I say as I place a Tupperware container in the microwave. I’m not exactly sure what’s in it, but I’m starving and too drunk to cook for myself, and Tessa isn’t here to cook for me. What the fuck am I going to do when she leaves me?

    “It does,” he says with a grimace. “I’m just glad Seattle isn’t too far.”

    “England is.”

    After a long pause, he says, “She won’t go to England.”

    I give him a fuck-off look. “What the fuck do you know? You’ve known her for, what, two days?” I’m about to really go off when the obnoxious beep of the microwave interrupts us.

    “I know Carol, though, and she wouldn’t go to England.”

    So he’s back to being the annoying drunk he was yesterday.

    “Tessa isn’t her mother, and I’m not you.”

    “Okay,” he says and shrugs.