Chapter Twenty-Six Avocado Toast to the Rescue
The flowers are delivered early, so Mom and I get started on the flower heart on Friday morning right after breakfast. We’re working in the back room of the flower shop—where Mom does most of her bigger arrangements—but it’s cramped.
The size of this room is why she always tries to do wedding work on-site if possible.
To make the heart, we first squeezed moss and floral foam into the frame.
Then, starting with the biggest blooms, which are sunflowers, we fill in the heart with flowers.
We work quietly. I haven’t told Mom that I went to see Dad yesterday, because I don’t think she’d approve.
Working with her in this tight back room emphasizes her point—Mom needs a bigger space if her business is going to focus on special events more than walk-ins.
But I still feel so betrayed. Why did they do this behind my back?
Like I said to Miles last night, maybe if everyone had trusted me enough to tell me what was going on, I could have had time to warm up to the idea.
I also don’t want to talk to Mom about the other thing I confronted Dad about yesterday—him cheating on her.
I have no idea if Dad will ever tell Mom that I know.
I don’t blame her for not telling me—she was the one wronged.
And she’s been the one who’s been an active parent to me.
She may be distant, but she’s been here . Which is more than I can say for Dad.
“This is going to be stunning,” I say, standing back to look at the enormous flower heart after we’d affixed about half the flowers.
Mom nods. “I am, of course, partial to flowers, but I think this is so much better than the metal sculpture you wanted. And I love that we decided on a full rainbow of colors instead of just red and pink. It’s going to be fantastic.
” Mom suddenly checks her watch. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late.
We should change—I made us lunch reservations at Fiona’s. ”
Fiona’s Garden is one of my favorite restaurants in the city. Mom usually only takes me for my birthday because it’s a bit pricy. “Why are we going for lunch?”
Mom wipes her hands on her overalls and pulls out the scrunchie holding her hair on the top of her head. “Since Asha is in the shop today, I wanted to treat you… to thank you for being so understanding.”
I raise a brow. Asha is Mom’s occasional employee—she doesn’t work very often, but Mom has her in all weekend to help with the festival.
But this still sounds suspicious. I’m wondering if she’s going to try to convince me to live at my grandparents’ with her by feeding me my favorite food.
I’m not about to say no to lunch at Fiona’s, though.
After I change into a floral dress and add a bit of makeup, Mom and I walk to the restaurant since it’s only about fifteen minutes away. Mom talks constantly along the way about the festival tomorrow and the smaller arrangements she’s made for her booth. She sounds nervous.
When we get to the restaurant, I almost turn around and walk right out again. Because my father is here. Sitting alone at a four-seat table near the window.
“No,” I say. “I’m not eating with him.”
Mom puts her hand on my arm. “Sana, hear him out. He called me last night; he was very upset about your conversation. I think it’s long past time for the three of us to have a talk.”
I look at Mom. She seems… sad. But also determined. Determined to air out all the crap this family has been burying for so long.
I take a breath. This is what I always wanted. For my family to actually talk to me. But now that we’re here… I’m scared. I’m not ready for another emotional conversation, and I’m afraid talking to my dad will only make me as angry as I was yesterday.
I frown, then silently sit at the table with my father. I know I’m pouting like a petulant child, but I don’t care. Mom sits next to me.
“We should have done this before now,” Mom says.
I glare at them both. “Like you two would have wanted to have a meal together.”
My dad sighs. “We don’t hate each other, Sana.”
The waitress comes by then, and I order a mango pineapple dragon fruit smoothie. Dad orders a coffee and Mom, a water. Mom says we need a few minutes to decide what we want to eat.
When the waitress leaves the table, my dad says, “I called your mother when you left my office.”
“It’s clear that all three of us should have been talking about this real estate deal,” Mom says, “because it’s affecting us all. This family has a lot of communication to catch up on.”
“We’re not a family anymore.”
Mom shakes her head. “The moment we had you, we became connected for life.” She sighs. “We’ve been doing a terrible job of it, though. So we want to talk. Openly. About everything.”
The waitress comes back to take our order. I already know what I want—smashed avocado and roasted veggies on sourdough with a fattoush salad. Mom orders a grain bowl. Dad stares at the vegan menu, like if he looks at it long enough, a steak will appear on it. “Um.”
I roll my eyes. This place totally isn’t Dad’s vibe. “The kale pesto pasta is really good. You can’t taste the kale at all. And there’s a lot of basil.” I know my dad loves basil.
He smiles at me with relief and orders the pasta.
Once the waitress is gone, I wait for them to start talking. This “meeting” is for them to be honest with me for the first time, so they need to start doing that.
My dad clears his throat. “Sana, I’m glad you came to see me yesterday.
You brought up a few things that made me realize how far apart we’ve drifted.
We need to have a proper conversation.” He pauses and swallows thickly like he’s uncomfortable.
Good, he should be. “You accused me of only asking you to move in with me so your mother would sell her building. That isn’t true—I would love to have you at home with us. ”
I shake my head. “Yeah, right. Like—”
Mom puts her hand on my arm, stopping me. “Let your father finish.”
I cross my arms in front of me.
Dad exhales. “But I admit, the timing of my invitation was so your mother would reconsider the offer I’d presented to her.
It was a good offer. I negotiated the best possible terms for her—not because I wanted a bigger commission, but because I truly do want what’s best for her.
For both of you. This developer is fair.
I’ve known Ashwin, one of the owners, for a long time.
I know enough about the industry to know that this was going to be the best deal for her. ”
Mom nods. “It really is an excellent offer.”
“Yeah, but you should have told me the truth from the beginning,” I say. “You both kept this huge thing from your own daughter.”
“You’re right,” Mom says. “We should have. If we could do it again—”
I shake my head. “But you can’t do it again. I’m not nine anymore. I’m seventeen . Do you think I’m not mature enough to understand these things? Or is it because you don’t want me to have a say on decisions you know I won’t agree with?”
“Sana, I explained why I had to sell,” Mom says. “I thought you understood.”
“I do understand,” I say. If we’re all going to be open with each other, I should tell the truth.
“I overheard you and Jenn talking a couple of months ago—that day you were painting those flowerpots pink. You said you’d had an offer for the building, but you weren’t going to sell until you talked to me about it. But then you didn’t talk to me.”
Mom cringes. “I’m sorry you heard that, Sana. I just… I didn’t want this to affect your work with the festival.”
“But I suggested the festival to the BOA so you wouldn’t have to sell.
I’ve been helping you more in the store.
I did it all so we could stay there.” Didn’t make a whole lot of difference, though.
I hate how powerless I feel. Just like when I was little, everything is turning upside down, and I don’t have control over any of it.
“We’re sorry we weren’t honest with you from the beginning,” Dad says.
I glare at my father. “It’s not like you’ve ever been honest with me in the past.”
Everyone at the table is silent for several long moments.
Mom finally speaks. “Sana, how long have you known that your father was with Noureen before our divorce?”
I shrug. “Since the beginning,” I say. “I overheard Dad talking to her in his office a few times. He said her name… Noureen. He said they’d be together soon.
Then, when you told me that you two were divorcing, it all made sense.
I was young, but I wasn’t an idiot. You both promised that it wasn’t because you were with someone else. Which I knew right away was a lie.”
Dad looks sad, but I know he doesn’t regret what he did back then. Because, I mean, he married Noureen.
“I’m sorry you heard that,” Dad says.
No one speaks for a while. This “family” doesn’t know how to communicate, so why even try? But I do know how to talk. Maybe I shouldn’t have kept this in for so long, waiting for them to be honest with me. I’m not going to keep it in anymore.
I take a breath. “You two shouldn’t have lied to me.
” I look at Mom. “You shouldn’t have forced me to go see Dad…
a cheater … and his mistress every weekend.
And you”—I point to my father—“shouldn’t have forced me to have a relationship with Noureen.
She broke up my family. And she doesn’t even like me, anyway. ”
Dad shakes his head. “Sana, that’s not fair. Noureen has been nothing but welcoming to you. She’s—”
“She’s not the one who needs to be welcoming me to your family!
” I spit out. “You’re my father—I had you first!
” That shut Dad up. Mom puts her hand on my arm, and I appreciate the support.
I take a breath. “Noureen might like me if I were smarter, dressed better, had smoother hair, and wanted to work a corporate job. Basically, if I were Sarina. I don’t know why she thinks she has the right to judge the daughter of the woman whose husband she stole. ”