Page 79 of In It to Win It

“I know, right? Oh my God.”

Well, this is not what I expected, and I have to say, I kind of feel like I just took a butt end in the solar plexus. I have no clue what to say. I search around for about an hour and finally say, “I guess that was a bit of a shock.”

“No shit.”

I slide my other arm behind her and rub her back in slow circles. “Are you okay?”

“No,” she mumbles into Byron’s fur. “That’s why I needed to see Byron. I needed doggy hugs.”

“Yeah, I get it.” I pause. “D’you want a drink?”

She hesitates, then nods.

I stand and head to the kitchen and the corner bar. I slosh rum into two glasses and carry them back. When I sit again, Taylor lifts her head. She releases Byron from the death grip, shoves her hair back off her face, and accepts the glass I hand her, tossing back a big slug.

Jesus.

“Whoa,” she says, looking at the glass. “What is this?”

“Rum. Shipwreck.”

“It’sdelicious.” She takes another mouthful. “It tastes like vanilla. Sweet.”

“Yeah.” I sip the creamy, smooth spirit too.

Byron slides off the couch, pads over to me, and lays his chin on my knee. I rub his head.

“Want to tell me what happened?” I ask quietly.

She sighs, then spills everything: the story of how she saw the empty bedroom at her mom’s friend’s place, and put two and two together, and then her mom came clean. How her mom swore she hadn’t cheated on her dad. How her mom claimed to have loved her dad.

“Am I supposed to believe her?” Taylor asks, her voice full of anguish. “My dad’s heart is probably broken. He’s probably wondering the same thing . . . did she everreallylove him?”

“Maybe they’ve worked all that out,” I offer gently. “But yeah, if the breakup was her choice, he could be hurting.”

She dashes a hand across her eyes. “I hate that. And now that I know it’s Mom’s fault, I hate her too.”

“No, you don’t.” Even as I say it, I recognize that telling a woman how she feels is not a good strategy. “You’re angry with her. You’re feeling betrayed yourself because you never knew this about her. But you don’t hate her.”

“You’re probably right.” She clasps her glass and stares down into it.

Whew.

“I don’t think she would lie to you. If she said she loved your dad, I think you should believe her. And they were together a long time.”

“They were waiting for me to leave so they could split up,” she says bitterly. “I mean,shewas waiting.”

I slide my arm around her shoulders and pull her into me. “You know that’s not true.”

She doesn’t pull away. Her soft warmth curves into me and my pulse speeds up. “It could be.”

“But shedidn’twait,” I point out. “It just happened. She met someone she cares about.”

“She wasmarried.”

“I know, Sunshine. It happens. It sucks.” Jesus, when I’m the one offering wise (or not-so-wise) words about relationships, we’re in deep fucking shit.

Now she tucks her head onto my shoulder, snuggling into me like she was with Byron, who’s now lying on the rug at our feet. “Yeah. It guess. I never thought it would happen with my parents.”

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