Page 102 of My Only

The words swam on the screen.

Then my stomach dropped.

I sucked in a breath through my teeth, my hand covering my mouth.

“Oh, shit.”

That was tonight? I thought it was just dinner with our parents.

My chest tightened.

“Fuck.”

It completely slipped my mind that tonight was the night Ayla’s mother, Sonia, was introducing her boyfriend to Ayla and my parents.

Ayla had mentioned for months that her mother had been dating again. She said she was okay with it—over and over—but I knew her. I knew that meeting him would make it real in a way Ayla wasn’t ready for.

It made sense that her mother’s boyfriend would be there. A family dinner. A serious relationship. Of course, he would be there.

But I forgot.

And I forgot how big this was for Ayla.

How big of a deal it would be for Ayla to sit at that table, watching her mother with another man—when all she had ever known was her parents together.

Tonight must’ve been so damn hard for her. And I wasn’t there. I didn’t even check my phone until that moment in bed. I was too focused on getting home once I was done with work.

“Shit,” I said under my breath.

A pang shot straight through my chest.

“I wasn’t there. Fuck.”

I threw off the covers and bolted out of bed, taking quick strides to the bedroom door. I moved from room to room, searching for her. When I reached the stairs, I took them two at a time, heading straight for the guest bedroom.

The door was closed, but I didn’t hesitate. I turned the knob, pushing it open.

The sound of Ayla’s muffled sobs hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was crying into the pillows.

And my heart shattered.

So many times, my father had told me, Be there for Ayla. In whatever way you know how to be, be there for her.

And I had been.

I was there for her in high school when she called me at one in the morning, three in the morning, when she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about her father. When she barely spoke, just cried, and all I could do was sit on the other end of the line and listen.

I was there when she came back to school after September 11th and broke down at her locker—every night after, she was convinced her dad would walk through the front door any second. I didn’t know what to say back then. Didn’t know how to fix it.

But I was there.

And that was enough.

But tonight?

Tonight, I wasn’t there.

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