Page 91 of The Love Playbook

“She begs me to take her back to the coaster, convinced they’ll let her on this time, and when I ask why she’s so sure, she says she feels like she grew in the thirty minutes since she last tried. It took everything in me not to die laughing, but I did as she asked, and she stomps back to the attendant, chin up, and stands on her tiptoes at the height marker, but the operator just squints at her and says ‘Nice try, kid.’”

Chris bursts out laughing. “I can totally picture that. Bet she wasnothappy.”

“Oh, she was livid,” my father confirms, which only makes Chris laugh harder.

“Sneaky Charlotte,” Chris murmurs, glancing over at me, and something about the warmth in his blue eyes makes me squirm.

More than an hour and several other mortifying stories later, I still haven’t gotten a chance to talk to my father about the real reason I asked him to dinner, but once the check is paid and my father rises from his seat in the booth, I know I have no time to waste.

Panic balloons in my chest as he shrugs on his jacket. “This was fun,” he says. “The three of us should do this again, but maybe with your mother next time.” He glances over at Chris for approval.

“I’d like that.” Chris nods, and all eyes fall to me.

“Um, sure whatever,” I say, because all I can do is think about how I still haven’t gotten a chance to speak with my father. “Actually, Dad, can I talk to you for a second? On the way out, maybe?”

A crease forms between his brows as we slide from the booth and head for the door. “Sure, hon. What do you need?”

I glance over at Chris, and we lock eyes before he reaches a hand out to my father. “I should probably get going,” he says, pausing at the door.

My father takes his hand but instead of shaking it, he brings him in for one of those man hugs where they slap backs. “As always, it’s good to see you,” Dad says, and I wonder what he’d say if he knew Chris and I had swapped more than numbers. “I’ll be watching tomorrow. Bring back a win for the orange and blue.”

“Yes, sir.” Chris offers me one last lingering look before he leaves, heading down the sidewalk toward campus.

Silence settles over us as we step outside, and I can feel rather than see my father eyeing me closely. “So, what is it you wanted to tell me?”

Leaves skitter by my feet, twirling in the breeze as I fall in step beside him, walking with him to his car a few feet down. “Mom lost her job,” I blurt.

Dad says nothing for a moment, his face a neutral mask and when it becomes clear he’s not about to say anything at all, I add, “She hasn’t been seeing Dr. Sherri or taking her meds, and without insurance and money for therapy appointments, she won’t be able to do either. I give her a month before she can’t pay her bills, and I know your alimony payments stopped in June, but . . .”

My father shifts on his feet, his hands in his pockets, wary as he asks, “What are you asking for?”

“Money, Dad.” I sigh. “Mom needs money.”

My father turns, his eyes trained on the road in front of us. A car passes, its engine the only sound between us. “Money won’t help her, and we both know it.”

My insides squeeze, the urge to vomit rising inside of me like a bird taking flight. “No. You’re right. Money won’t fix Mom’s problems. Maybe nothing ever will, not really, but she needs to go back to therapy and take her medication or she’ll never get better. And both of those things cost money, not to mention her other bills.”

“What job is this? The sixth in the last three years?” he asks, raking a hand through his hair. “When does it end, Charlotte?”

“Do you think you’re the only one tired of this?” I ask, my voice trembling with emotion. “Do you think for one second, I wouldn’t just wash my hands of her if I could? Because newsflash, Dad, I’m pretty damn sick of having to be the one to pick up the pieces, and the reason for her most recent fallout is you!” I point, knowing it’s unfair to blame him. He’s entitled to a life, just like I am. The only difference is he can walk away. I can’t, and I resent him for it.

Dad stumbles back, shock coloring his cheeks.

“Yeah, that’s right,” I say, unable to stop now. “Just when she was doing well, she got the news of your engagement, andpoof, all of her progress is gone in an instant.”

It’s partly a lie. The signs were there months ago, but I just didn’t want to acknowledge them. It was far easier to live in my bubble at school and pretend the ceiling wasn’t about to fall down.

But he doesn’t need to know that.

“Shit, Char . . .” Dad trails off, staring at his loafers with a shake of his head.

“Did you think Mom would just accept it and be fine? You saw what happened after the divorce, and guess what? It’s the same damn thing all over again, except this time I’m not there with her to make sure she’s doing what she needs to. She’s all alone with nothing and no one to help her.”

Dad scrubs a hand over the scruff of his jaw, his expression pinched. “I want to help, but I can’t keep doing this?bailing your mom out when she drops the ball. At some point, she needs to accept the consequences of her actions. At some point she needs to care enough to help herself. I’m going to have a new family soon. Like it or not, Charlotte, come spring, I’ll be married with stepkids. You and my new family, those are my priorities.”

My hands tremble at my side. “Barb works. She doesn’t need your money.”

“Damnit, Char, that’s not the point!” Dad snaps.

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