Regretting You (39 page)

I shake my head, lifting my T-shirt to wipe my eyes. I should feel relieved to know that my text didn’t cause the wreck because Aunt Jenny wasn’t even driving, but I don’t feel any relief at all. I don’t even feel anger. I feel like all my anger has been directed at my mother for so long that I don’t even have any left. Right now, I just feel disappointed. Defeated.

It’s as if all the romance novels I’ve ever read have turned into dystopian fantasies. My whole life, I thought I had these great examples of
love and family and humanity around me, but it was all bullshit. The love I thought my father had for my mother was a lie. And the thing that bothers me the most about it is that half of me is made up of him.

Does that mean I’m capable of being the kind of human he was? The kind to betray your spouse and child while plastering a loving smile on your face for so many years?

I hear the door to the theater open. Miller walks over to me and then leans down to kiss me. I pull away. I don’t feel like a kiss right now. Or maybe I don’t feel like I deserve a kiss right now. Whatever this is I feel for him, it worries me that it’s nothing more than manufactured signals from my brain that’ll eventually fade.

Miller steps over me and sits down in the seat to my right. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “But you will. I will. Everyone does. Everyone fucks up.”

“Hey,” he says, touching my cheek, pulling my teary eyes to his. “What happened?”

“My father had an affair with Aunt Jenny. Elijah is his. Not Jonah’s.”

My confession stuns him. He drops his hand and falls against his seat. “Shit.”

It felt weird, saying it out loud.

“Does Jonah know?”

“He didn’t know until after the wreck.”

Miller lifts an arm and slips it behind me, despite my earlier hesitance to let him kiss me. He begins to gently rub my back. I lean into him, even though right now, I’m convinced that love is stupid and I’ll probably break his heart someday.

I shake my head, still in disbelief as I think about it all. “I idolized my dad. I thought he was perfect. And
her
. She was my best friend.”

Miller kisses me on top of the head. “How’s your mother taking it?”

I don’t know how to answer that, because looking back on it, I don’t know how my mother even got out of bed after finding something like
this out. For the first time since the wreck, I feel this ache for her—for what she went through. What she’s still
going
through. “I have no idea how she’s still functioning.”

It kind of even makes sense now that she and Jonah would lean on each other through this. They had to. They were the only ones who knew, so who else could she have talked to about it besides Jonah?

We’re quiet for a while. I’m trying to work through it. I think Miller is just giving me time to process everything. I don’t expect him to give me advice. That’s not why I’m here. I just needed to be near him. I wanted his arms around me.

It reminds me of all the times growing up, how my father would always comfort my mother. She didn’t need it a lot, but sometimes I would see him holding her while she was upset.

Now I realize it was all fake. All those looks of concern he gave her—they weren’t real. He was sleeping with her sister. How could he pretend to love her while doing something so incredibly vicious?

I trusted him more than I’ve ever trusted any man in the world. It makes me doubt everything. Everyone. Myself. Maybe even Miller. I don’t even know what Miller’s intentions actually were in the beginning.

I face him. “Would you have cheated on Shelby with me?”

He looks thrown off by my question. “No. Why?”

“That day in your truck. I thought maybe you wanted to.”

Miller sighs heavily with a look of guilt on his face. “I was confused, Clara. I wanted to talk to you, but when you got in the truck with me, I didn’t like how I was feeling. I wouldn’t have cheated on her, but I can’t say that I didn’t have the urge.”

“Do you still talk to her?”

He shakes his head, but the shake of his head is coupled with an eye roll. He looks like he’s growing frustrated with me. It slams me right in the chest. Every time I’m angry, I find myself involving him somehow. I’d almost rather him break up with me than lose respect for me, but if I keep behaving this way, that’s exactly what will happen.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “All of this is messing with my head, and I don’t know who to be mad at.”

Miller brings my hand to his mouth. He kisses the back of it, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Remember when you thought I was epic?” I laugh at that.
How could anyone think I’m epic?

“I still think you’re epic,” he says. “
Frustratingly
epic.”

“Or epically frustrating. You started dating me at the absolute worst moment of my life. I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with all this shit.”

He lifts his hand and gently cups my face. “I’m sorry
you’ve
had to deal with all this shit.”

Sometimes when he says things to me, his words feel like they reach me through my chest rather than through my ears. I love that he’s so understanding. So patient. I don’t know where he gets it from, but maybe the more I’m around him, the more I’ll become like him. “Imagine how great we’ll be when I’m finally emotionally stable.”

He pulls me into a hug. “You’re great now, Clara. Damn near perfect.”

“Near?”

“I’d say a nine out of ten.”

“What’s the reason for the one-point deduction?”

He sighs. “It’s that pineapple on pizza, unfortunately.”

I laugh, and then I lift the armrest that’s separating us to snuggle against him. We’re quiet for a while after that. He holds me while I try and work through my thoughts, but I know he can’t stay here all night. After a few minutes, he kisses me on top of the head.

“I need to get back to work. It’s not even my break right now, and the manager is on duty tonight.”

“What time do you get off?”

“Not until nine.”

“Can I stay until you get off work? I need a ride home.”

“How’d you get here?”

“My mother dropped me off.”

“Oh. She doesn’t know I work here, huh?”

I nod. “She does. That’s why she dropped me off here.”

Miller raises an eyebrow. “Do I sense progress?”

“I hope.”

He smiles and then kisses me. Twice. “There’s a cartoon starting in theater three in about fifteen minutes. Want to go watch it while you wait for me?”

I crinkle up my nose. “A cartoon? I don’t know.”

He pulls me out of my seat. “You need something light right now. Go watch it, and I’ll bring you food.”

He holds my hand as we walk out of the theater. He walks me to the showing next door, but before I go in, I kiss him on the cheek. “One of these days, I’m going to be better for you,” I say, squeezing his hand. “I promise.”

“You’re perfect just how you are, Clara.”

“No, I’m not. I’m only a nine, apparently.”

He’s laughing as he backs away from me. “Yeah, but I really only deserve a six.”

I find a seat far away from all the little kids, all the way at the top. Miller was wrong. I don’t think the cartoon helps, because I can’t stop thinking about what happened.

It isn’t lost on me that my anger over finding out about my father and Jenny isn’t nearly as intense as it was when I thought my mother and Jonah were the ones having the affair.

I contemplate that, and I realize it comes down to one thing.

Selflessness.

It seems so insignificant, but it’s not. My mother was put through the most maddening, painful, tragic event of her life. Yet, as always, she
put me first. Before her anger, her grief, the betrayal. She did everything she could to shield me from the truth, even if that meant unfairly taking the blame.

I don’t doubt my father’s love for me, but I don’t know that he would have done the same if the tables were reversed. I’m not sure Jenny would have either.

As devastated as I am to finally know the truth, it actually hurts less than when I thought my mother was the one in the wrong.

Since the day I was born, every decision she’s ever made for herself was made in order to benefit me. I’ve always known that about her. But I’m not sure I appreciated it until tonight.

The cartoon has ended and the theater has cleared out, but I’m still staring hard at the blank screen, wondering how my mother is doing. She’s the real victim in all of this, and it makes me sad to know that the two people she’s leaned on for most of her life are the same two people who weren’t there to catch her when she fell. Hell, they’re the ones who made her fall in the first place.

I can’t imagine all the invisible bruises she’s covered in right now, and I hate that some of them are there because of me.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

MORGAN

I called Jonah after I got home from dropping Clara off at the theater. It was ironic, because I needed him in much the same way Clara needed Miller. We talked for a while, but Elijah was already asleep, so he couldn’t come over.

I would have gone to him, but I didn’t want to be away from the house in case Clara came home.

Two hours have gone by, and I’ve done nothing but pace the floor and stare at the blank television screen, wondering how she’s doing. Wondering if Miller is giving her the reassurance and comfort she needs right now.

Even if he is, I feel this emptiness in me, and it’s creating a pull to go find her. After she’s been gone for two and a half hours, I finally grab my keys and decide to drive myself back to the theater.

Miller is behind the concession stand when I walk inside. He’s helping two customers, but I don’t see Clara anywhere. I stand in line
and wait until he’s free. When he hands the customers their change and they step out of my way, he looks up and stiffens.

I like that I make him nervous, but I also hate it. I don’t want to be unapproachable to someone my daughter cares so much about.

“Looking for Clara?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah. Is she still here?”

He looks at the clock on the wall behind him, then nods. “Yeah, she should be alone in theater three. The movie ended fifteen minutes ago.”

“She’s . . . alone? Just sitting in a theater by herself?”

Miller smiles and pulls a cup off a stack, filling it with ice. “Don’t worry, she likes it.” He fills the cup with Sprite and hands it to me. “I’ve been busy, so I haven’t been able to take her a refill. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Thank you.”

I start to turn around but stop short when Miller says, “Mrs. Grant?”

He looks to his left, then his right, ensuring our privacy. He leans forward a little, looking me in the eyes. He presses his lips together nervously before he speaks. “I’m really sorry about sneaking into your house the other night. And for . . . all the other stuff. I really do care about her.”

I try to see him for the first time without all the preconceived notions Chris had about him. I want to see him as Jonah sees him—like he’s a good kid. Good enough to date Clara. I’m still not sure about that yet, but the fact that he’s just given me what seems like a very genuine apology is a good start. I nod, giving him a small smile, then head toward theater three.

She’s all the way at the top when I walk in. The lights are on, and she’s staring straight ahead at the blank movie screen, her feet propped up on the seat in front of her.

She doesn’t notice me until I start walking up the stairs toward the top row. When she does lay eyes on me, she sits up straighter and pulls her feet down. When I reach her, I hand her the Sprite and take a seat next to her.

“Miller thought you might need a refill.”

She takes the Sprite and sips from it, moving her empty cup to the seat on the other side of her. Then she lifts the armrest between us and leans into me. It takes me by surprise. I wasn’t sure what to expect from her. She’s been through a lot tonight, and to be honest, I’ve been waiting for the aftershocks to hit. I take advantage of this rare moment of affection by wrapping my arm around her and pulling her to me.

I don’t think either one of us really knows how to start the conversation. A few long seconds go by before Clara says, “Have you ever cheated on Dad?”

She doesn’t ask it in an accusatory way. It’s almost like she’s just working through a thought, so I answer her honestly. “No. Up until Jonah, your father was the only guy I’d ever kissed.”

“Are you angry at them? Dad and Jenny?”

I nod. “Yes. It hurts. A lot.”

“Do you regret marrying him?”

“No. I got you.”

She lifts her head. “I don’t mean do you regret ever dating him or getting pregnant with me. But do you regret marrying him?”

I brush her hair from her forehead and smile. “No. I regret the choices he made, but I don’t regret the choices
I
made.”

She lays her head back down on my shoulder. “I don’t want to hate him, but I’m mad that he did that to us. I’m mad that Aunt Jenny would do something like that to us.”

“I know, Clara. But you have to understand that their affair had everything to do with us, but also absolutely nothing at all.”

“It
feels
like it had everything to do with us.”