Page 74 of Phillip

“Always calling the shots,” Ashley muttered, wondering if she should call Mother and yell. Though it wouldn’t change anything. Ashley wondered what her father might do if she asked him to pick a side and defend her. Did he know that Mother didn’t want Phillip in Ashley’s life? He had to care. He’d been the more nurturing parent—at least, when he was home.

Suddenly, she needed to hear from her dad and grabbed the phone. Without giving herself a moment to chicken out, Ashley scrolled to her parents’ names and hit send.

Dad didn’t answer. Disappointed, but not deterred from the confrontation, she decided on a video chat with her mother.

She hit the icon to connect, and as it started to ring, she realized she didn’t know what to say. Nothing beyond irate accusations formed coherently as the call connected.

Her mother appeared on the screen, and from the background, Ashley could tell that the call had been accepted from her iPad in the living room. “It’s late,” her mother said as greeting, then inched closer to the screen and took a long look. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes.” Ashley inhaled slowly, struggling to maintain an even tone. “Is Dad there?”

“Are you sick?”

“Ask Dad to join you, please,” she said, then hated how she’d tacked onplease. “It’s important.”

Her mother frowned then rose from the chair. Her silk robe and matching nightgown flowed as she left the living room.

Mother finally returned with Ashley’s pajama-clad father. They sat in front of the screen, and with a hint of concern, her father asked, “Is everything okay?”

She realized that she hadn’t heard any concern from her mother. Then she realized that she wasn’t surprised. Ashley swallowed hard. “Phillip asked you if he could marry me.” She had meant it to come out as a question, but she knew it to be fact.

Her mother braced a hand to her chest.

“Phillip Blackthorne? From Harvard?” her dad asked, confused.

“Did I date any other Phillips?”

Her father crooked his head, seeming to acknowledge her emotional tone. “Yes. Phillip spoke with us. But that was…” He faltered. “Years ago.”

Tears stung the back of her throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Dad shifted uncomfortably. They weren’t a talk-about-feelings family.

“Well, honey…” Dad glanced at her mother, frozen and growing pale. His gaze narrowed quizzically, but he continued. “You broke up with him and seemed so distraught.”

Perplexed concern marred his face. Ashley compared it to her mother, who remained unmoved. “You didn’t know, did you, Dad?”

“Know what?”

She could barely look at her mother. “It was 100 percent your doing.” Deep down, had she hoped to discover a misunderstanding?

Dad’s brows furrowedand glanced again at her mother. “What is going on?”

“I think we’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Her mother stood. “Have a good event tomorrow—”

Ashley slapped her palm against the table. “Sit down.”

“Watch your tone, young lady,” her mother warned.

“Aggi, what the hell is going on?”

No one gave him an answer.

“Sit down, and we’ll figure this out,” he commanded. “Agatha.”

Robotically, her mother returned to the couch next to her dad.

“Thank you,” Dad said. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?”

---