For Lucy

“You know what I mean.”

I don’t actually, but before I can confess my ignorance on the slang meaning, Lucy climbs out of the truck slowly, using her cane to steady herself as her feet reach for the ground one right after the other. I grab her bags from the backseat.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?” Lucy plays the innocent role, but after her “sloppy seconds” comment, she’s anything but innocent.

“I thought we should talk, just the two of us.” Tatum follows Lucy into the house.

“Sure. About what?”

Tatum shoots me a look—it’s not exactly a friendly one. “Let’s talk in your room.”

“I think I’ll move upstairs soon. Chad said stairs will be my next big obstacle. Then Dad can have his bed back … you know … in case he wants to hook up some night. Then he won’t have to use my twin bed.”

Okay … she’s officially gone off the rails. Now she’s full-on baiting Tatum.

“Is he hooking up in your twin bed now?” Tatum asks, gritting through her teeth as she shoots me one last evil glance over her shoulder before shutting the bedroom door behind them.

I chuckle to myself. Lucy is something, stubborn like her mom and a complete pot-stirrer like me. I’ve always enjoyed ruffling Tatum’s feathers.

While they talk, I make dinner. I’m fearful that Lucy is spilling her guts, putting it all out there just to shatter Tatum’s world again, but there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s no longer just my secret. And I agree with Dr. Kane; Lucy needs to do whatever she feels is best for her.

“Night, sweetie. I love you,” Tatum says just as the bedroom door opens.

I sigh, knowing Lucy didn’t tell her. Tatum would not be this controlled had she told her.

“Please make sure she’s in bed safely before you go to bed or hook up with some stranger in your daughter’s bed,” Tatum says to my back as I stir the pasta on the stove.

“I always do.”

I love that she’s feeling a hint of something resembling jealousy. Welcome to my world for the past five-plus years.

After a few seconds, the front door clicks shut.

“You’re going to let her just marry him? Really?” Lucy takes a seat at the kitchen table, setting her cane on it and narrowing her eyes at me.

I give her a quick glance and a slow shrug. “She didn’t ask for my permission. There’s not a lot I can do.”

“Tell her you love her!”

“She knows.”

“Not if you don’t tell her.”

“Lucy … I’ve told her.” I shake my head. “What did you two discuss in there? I assumed when your mom left all was good. Now, you’re giving me the third degree like this engagement is my fault. A result of something I didn’t do or say? Really, Luce?”

“I …” She deflates. “I was so close to telling her, Dad. I even said that I had something to tell her. Then I chickened out and asked her if she’d go with me to get on the pill instead.”

Fuck. My. Life.

“What did she say?” I drain the pasta.

“She said yes, of course. But that’s not what I wanted. I just made that up because right when I started to say it, to tell her that it was me who was supposed to be watching Austin, not you, I froze. I thought of why you said you lied in the first place. That look on her face. And I got scared that even now, she might look at me like that … like I killed him. And … I couldn’t do it. Now I feel like a complete chicken with no backbone. I mean … she won’t hate me, right? Not now?”

“She wasn’t going to hate you then, and she won’t hate you now. But I understand your apprehension. I’m not exactly relishing the idea of her knowing either. But you just have to be prepared for if or when you do tell her. She’s not going to just laugh it off and hug it out with you. Your confession will turn her world upside down again. And I don’t actually know what she will say or do, but you have to be prepared for the worst. And maybe that worst means for a split second she looks at you like you killed Austin. Or maybe she has a knee-jerk reaction and says something to that effect. I really don’t know, but you have to be prepared to let it not scar you because, however she reacts, it will be temporary. How you perceive it will be permanent.”

“So I should tell her, but I need to ignore how she reacts?”

I shake my head, rinsing the pasta before turning to face her. “I’m not telling you to tell her. I’m not telling you to not tell her. I’m also not telling you to ignore her reaction if you do tell her. I’m telling you to anticipate something that might be a very knee-jerk reaction and not what’s truly in her heart. If you tell her, please remember she loves you more than anything or anyone. She always has and she always will.