“Why can’t she be permanent?” My daughter swivels around to face me, and my heart hammers in my chest.
What the fuck are you asking, Mere?
“Because she came to St. Peppers to start a new life of her own, free of any strings. She doesn’t want to be tied to a family.”
“You don’t know that.” Mere gets on her knees, Snowy shooting out of her lap.
I don’t even know what Mere and I are discussing at this point. Tying Clementine to our family. Jesus! What the heck does that even mean? “Mere—”
“I told her about Mom,” she whispers, averting her gaze from mine.
“What…did you say?” All my blood freezes instead of boiling in anger as an unusual feeling of fear surrounds me.
My daughter explains how she showed Clementine a glimpse of my happy life, when I wasn’t a bitter jerk, but a lucky man in love.
“Did she say something?” I rub my sweaty hands over the bed cover discreetly.
“Not really.” I can feel my heart sinking like a ship in turbulent waters at her words. “But she cried throughout the night.”
My stomach tightens at her words. “I don’t need her pity.”
Mere crosses her arm over her chest, ready to defend her friend. “I don’t think she cried for you, at least not the whole night. I think she cried for herself too.”
I close my eyes, exhaustion of the past days hitting me hard. It’s been so long since I’ve had a good night’s sleep.
“Take a break, Dad. You look tired.” Mere shifts, lying on her back, and pats the side next to her.
When I get in, she pulls the soft comforter over me, which smells of fresh peaches, like Clementine.
When my eyes open next, it’s already dark. Snowy is lying above me, watching me with her wide eyes.
“What’s wrong with you, girl? You like me more than the two girls. Don’t you know I’m the jerk of the house?”
“Maybe because she knows you are a softy underneath.” Mere smiles from the corner where she is playing with her phone.
“I didn’t know you were in the room,” I mumble, stretching my arms over my head. “How long did I sleep?”
“Few hours.” She shrugs.
I jerk upright, realizing I ditched work for sleep.
“Don’t worry, Dad. Uncle Lukas called and I told him you have a headache.”
“Thanks.” I’m putting on my shoes when I remember something. “Are you on social media, Mere?”
“Everyone’s on social media, Dad.”
* * *
The next day I find myself back on the same couch in Emily Chard’s office.
“Mere told Clementine about Melanie.”
“Clementine is your tenant and Melanie is your late wife?” Emily takes a sip of her coffee. When I give her a stiff nod, she glances at me and asks, “What are you not telling me, Keith?”
I look away from her scrutinizing gaze. My hands dig into the armrest, my pulse quickening as something between shame and guilt hit me hard. “Clem and I slept together. One time. It was a mistake. She is fifteen years younger than me, closer in age to Mere.”
“I see you’ve given it quite some thought.”