Chapter 29 #2
Hilary gave a small, hopeful laugh. “We’re excited. Nervous. But excited.”
I waited for the rest. The apology. The acknowledgment. The “I’m sorry I missed your birthday party because my mistress is having a baby.”
Hilary smiled, tentative but hopeful. “We wanted to tell you properly.”
Dad nodded quickly. “Yeah. In person. I didn’t want you to hear it secondhand.”
My fingers dug into the couch cushion. “Congrats.” The word was rigid, expected. But neither of them clocked the inauthenticity of it.
“Thank you,” she said, relief easing her shoulders.
Dad watched my face closely, like he was waiting for something. When I didn’t say anything else, he kept going.
“We found out the morning of your party,” he said. “There were some complications. A scare. Everything’s okay now, but at the time, it felt… urgent.”
I waited silently. Dad frowned. “You’re… quiet.”
“I’m just processing,” I said, which was true in the most useless way possible.
He nodded, like that made sense. “Of course. I mean, it’s a lot to take in. But you’re going to be a big sister.”
Then it all hit me—he was having another baby. He left Mum, he left us, to be with Hilary and now he got to make a second family with her. He had only just found out about the baby yesterday, but it was clear that this child, this new family with her, would always take precedence.
“You missed my birthday,” I said.
Dad blinked. Once. Twice. “I know. That’s what I’m saying. That day was just—kind of chaos. You understand, right?”
I looked up at him then. Really looked.
“You didn’t call,” I said. “You didn’t text. You didn’t even say happy birthday.”
His forehead creased, genuinely confused. “I thought—I mean, I figured we’d talk after things settled. Which is now.”
My chest felt tight, like there wasn’t enough room to breathe properly. “I waited for you.”
That seemed to catch him off guard. “You… waited?”
“At the party,” I said. “Everyone else was enjoying themselves and I was too busy staring at the door because you promised—” And there was the voice crack.
“Oh,” he said, softer now. “Honey.” His mouth opened, then closed again. “I didn’t know.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” I said quietly.
Hilary shifted beside him. “We didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I looked at her, really looked at her. She seemed genuinely uncomfortable now, her smile gone. “I know.”
“I didn’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “If I’d known it was that big of a deal—”
“That big of a deal?” I repeated. “It was my sixteenth birthday.”
Hilary shifted beside him, uncomfortable. “Maybe we should—”
“It was my birthday,” I said, the words finally spilling over. “You’ve missed things before, but you always showed up for that. And you didn’t even tell me why.”
Dad’s mouth opened, then closed again. He looked stunned, like this reaction hadn’t even occurred to him as a possibility.
Dad leaned back, exhaling. “I honestly didn’t think you’d take it this hard. I figured—you’re older now. You’d understand that sometimes adults have things come up.”
I laughed then. A short, broken sound. “Wow.”
He sat back, clearly scrambling. “Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re hurt. That makes sense. But we can make it up to you.”
I shook my head. “That’s not—”
“What do you want?” he asked quickly. “A new phone? I know yours is old. Or—hey—I could help with that trip you were talking about. Or we could do a really nice dinner. Anywhere you want.”
Each offer landed like a misplaced Band-Aid.
“I don’t want things,” I said quietly. “I wanted you.”
He stared at me, like I’d spoken a different language. “I’m here. I’m trying to give this to you.”
I laughed, sharp and brief. “That’s what you always say.”
“We just need to see each other more!” Dad said, hope shining through his voice. “Tell you what, I’ll buy you a car.”
I stared at him. “I just turned sixteen. I don’t even have my learner’s permit yet.”
“Then I’ll take you to get it! We can go now, I’ll pay for the whole thing—the test and the lessons and—”
“I don’t want your money!” I yelled. He recoiled from shock, which was fair—I wasn’t sure I’d ever raised my voice at my dad before now. My voice was thick with tears. “Why can’t you understand that? I don’t want your money, I just wanted you!”
Dad stared at me like I’d slapped him. I breathed hard, for a moment wishing that I’d held back on my words, that I’d found some way to say it without hurting him, but why should I have to? If he hurt me, was it not what he deserved?
“I am here,” he said, louder now, his voice edging toward frustration. “I’m right in front of you. I don’t understand what more you want from me.”
“I wanted you yesterday. I wanted you when I was blowing out my candles and pretending I wasn’t checking the door every five seconds.”
Hilary stood abruptly. “Okay,” she said, hands raised slightly, like she was trying to calm a wild animal. “Maybe we should all just take a breath—”
“No,” I snapped, turning toward her before I could stop myself. “Don’t.”
She froze. Dad shot to his feet. “Hey. Don’t talk to her like that.”
I laughed again, sharp and disbelieving. “Oh, now you’re protecting someone?”
“That’s not fair,” he said, his voice rising. “She’s pregnant.”
“And I’m your kid!” I snapped back. “Or does that only matter when it’s convenient?”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quickly. “I just—things are different now. You have to understand that.”
Something cold settled in my chest. “Different how? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re working on building a new family after you blew up your old one.”
His face went pale. “That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Is it?” My hands were shaking now, fists clenched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. “Because it feels pretty accurate.”
Hilary crossed her arms over her stomach, protective. “He’s not replacing you.”
“I’m not looking for an opinion from a home wrecker,” I snarled.
She reared back like I’d hit her. Almost immediately, I regretted the words.
My anger was with Dad more than it was with her, even if she did drive me absolutely insane, but I didn’t know the story of what happened between them. Maybe she didn’t know.
But then I saw her face—a slight flash of remorse before she and Dad exchanged a knowing look—and I knew that my words had hit their target exactly. She knew about Mum. She knew about us. She just didn’t care.
Dad ran a hand through his hair, pacing now. “You’re twisting this. This isn’t about choosing anyone over anyone else.”
“Then why does it always feel like I’m the one who gets left out?” I demanded. “Why is it always me who understands and compromises and waits?”
He stopped pacing. “Because you’re mature. Because you can handle it.”
I stared at him. “So I get punished for that?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
Silence fell, thick and suffocating. The ticking clock on the wall sounded louder than ever, each second stretching unbearably long. Dad exhaled slowly, like he was trying very hard not to lose his temper. “I don’t know how to make you happy.”
“I’m not asking you to make me happy,” I said. “I’m asking you to show up.”
“I do show up!”
“Name one time,” I said, immediately, holding up a finger. “One time in the last five months where I was the priority.”
His mouth opened. Then closed.
Hilary shifted uncomfortably, moving toward Dad as she murmured, “This isn’t productive. She’s emotional right now.”
I turned on her. “Don’t call me emotional like that makes this less real.”
Dad raised his voice again. “Enough! You don’t get to talk to her like that in her own house.”
I flinched. Her house.
“So that’s it,” I said softly. “I don’t belong here.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, too quickly. “You know that.”
“I really don’t,” I said. “Because every time I come here, I feel like I’m intruding on something you’ve already moved on from.”
“That’s not true,” he insisted. “We want you here. Don’t we?” He looked to Hilary.
She nodded, a little stiffly. “Of course we do.”
I snorted. “And doesn’t that feel sincere?”
Hilary’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I don’t want you to say anything,” I said. “I want you to stop pretending this is something it isn’t.”
Dad rubbed at his temples. “Can we not do this right now?”
“When, then?” I asked. “When you’re too busy with the baby? When there’s literally no space left for me?”
“There will always be space in my life for you,” he insisted. “You know that.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “Do I?”