If It Makes You Happy(46)

“Don’t judge your parents too harshly,” I say. “Love makes you do crazy things.”

“How do you know? Have you ever been in love?”

“Yes,” I answer, but my lurching stomach wants to fight back.

My feelings on storybook love suddenly feel dull and unnatural. For the life of me, I can’t seem to remember the fire I had with Allen. Allen and I were so serious all the time. We were two stubborn people who found their stubborn puzzle piece.

I can’t recall passion—at least not the kind of all-encompassing obsession that clouds all judgment and keeps you up at night. I don’t remember whether I felt like Emily, desperately needing to see a guy at every waking moment. I can’t remember the last time I had a zip in my stomach, like when Cliff’s palm was on my knee.

Christ, I don’t like Cliff. He’s too … he’s too …

“How are your grades?” I ask, pulling down mugs from the cabinets.

“I’m acing everything,” Emily grumbles into her legs.

“And you’re caught up? No late assignments or anything?”

She pulls her knees closer and suspiciously drawls, “Yes, I’m caught up.”

“Then I’ll talk to him about you and Josh.”

Emily straightens up with wide eyes, like a spring uncoiling. “You will?”

“Stop sneaking out, okay? And go to your work-study. Stop skipping school. I don’t wanna lie to your dad.”

Except about how attractive I find him.

Emily grins, and I can see little inklings of Cliff in the twinkle of her blue eyes. They beam with hope, just like his.

“Swear,” she says. “Won’t sneak out again.”

“Or skip school or work.”

“Or skip,” she confirms.

I lift the pot from the coffee maker and cross the kitchen, kicking through the swinging door to the dining room. I lean my shoulder against it, gesturing toward the counter with my elbow.

“Grab those mugs, will you? If you’re gonna be here, I’m putting you to work.”





CHAPTER 13





Cliff




I pace the house, trailing down the hallway, with my phone in hand. My fingers hover over the numbers, but I don’t press them. I dread this call.

I pass Emily’s room. The door is shut, as it’s been all afternoon, with a lined piece of paper taped crookedly on the front. Written in block lettering with a black Sharpie is a mishmash of pretty, angry poetry. Probably song lyrics discreetly implying go away.

I descend the stairs. Carol sits on the couch in the living room. Brittany leans her head on her shoulder in rainbow pajamas, her hair wet from a shower. They’re watching two grown men fake punch in a ring, like they do every Monday night.

I sit at the wooden table in the kitchen, absentmindedly moving around the frilly place mat before standing once more. Inhaling, exhaling, I finally dial Tracy’s number.

It rings once, twice …

“Hello?”

“Trace. Hi.”

“Cliff?” Her voice already sounds tired. “Is there a problem?”

I scratch behind my head. “I don’t only call when there’s a problem.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Right. Well …” I clear my throat and pocket my hand, pacing to and from the sink before fiddling with the faucet. “Thought I’d update you on some things.”

“What did Emily do this time.” It’s not a question.

My chest feels itchy at the insinuation. I’m irritated, and we’re less than a minute into the conversation.

“Well”—I force out a laugh—“she didn’t kill someone or jump off a tall building.”

“Then why are you calling? Does Brittany need something?”

Her words always snap at my insides like rubber bands, stinging when they land and leaving bruises in their wake.

“No,” I say, dragging out the word. “But your firstborn has a boyfriend.”

The exhale through the phone whistles in my ear. “Are you serious right now?”

“Wish I weren’t, but …” I kick the rug, then fix it back after, biting my lip and staring at the ceiling. I can’t stand still. “She skipped school to see him.”

“Cliff, you’re joking me.”

“Hey, she’s a headstrong kid,” I say with a laugh. “Like her parents.”

Tracy sighs, and it’s a breath punctuated with a growl. I never know if what I’m saying is the right thing or if it makes her any less annoyed with me, but I’m guessing by that reaction that it was a check mark in the bad column.

She sighs again. “We’re gonna have a teen pregnancy on our hands if we’re not careful.”

“Emily’s smart.”

“Well, I should hope so. Is that all?”

“Yeah. Thought you’d want to hear it from me instead of Brittany. Kid talks about everything,” I say with a chuckle.

“Well, thanks.” She sighs. “This boy isn’t going to be around Brittany though, is he?”

I bark out a laugh, but she doesn’t return it. I can feel heat rising up my neck and to my cheeks.