“Why does she think that?”
I cringed. “If I tell you the truth, you can’t be more mad.”
“I’ll bet I can.”
Knowing I’d regret this—or maybe that I deserved any shit he’d give me—I took a breath and confessed the truth. “My SUV wasn’t really dead the second day. I made it up so she’d stay at the motel another night with me . . . which I’m pretty sure is the night she got pregnant.”
His stare got even more mean.
“I know, it’s shitty. I told her the truth the very next day, I felt so bad.”
“Was she upset?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Basically it confirmed everything she thought about me before.”
“Jesus. No wonder she doesn’t want you around.”
“Look, I made a mistake, okay?” I raised my voice to my dad, which I knew was a bad idea. “But I apologized and I’m trying to do the right thing. She’s telling me to leave.”
“Is that what you want to do? Leave?”
“Yes,” I snapped, although at that point, I didn’t know what the fuck I wanted. Mostly I just wanted to get out of this damn garage.
My father gave me a look of disappointment that hurt worse than any belt. “I thought I raised you to be a different kind of man, but maybe I was wrong.”
“You raised me to work hard and go after what I want,” I argued. “And I never wanted this!”
“This isn’t just about you anymore!” He poked my chest. “And I raised you to put family first, not yourself!”
I lowered my voice. “She doesn’t want me, Dad. Not like that.”
“I don’t blame her.” Shouldering past me, he went into the house.
Which was just as well, since I had no argument.
I didn’t blame her either.
TWENTY
ELLIE
Gianni was silent on the way back to Abelard. When we pulled behind the house, he put the car in park but left the engine running. “Do you want me to come in?”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” He paused. “To talk?”
“I don’t know what there is to talk about.”
He stared straight ahead, both hands on the wheel. “My dad . . . gave me some shit.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear him yelling.”
“I did,” I admitted. “And your mom was so nice—she kept trying to talk over it, reassure me that everything was going to be fine. But it was obvious your dad was upset.”
“He’s not upset about the baby,” Gianni said quickly. “He’s just mad at me. He thinks I’m running away from my responsibility. I thought he was gonna punch me in the face.”
For a moment, I imagined Uncle Nick beating up Gianni for me, and I felt a little better.
“You don’t think that, do you?” Gianni turned to me. “That I’m running away?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Look, lots of people are going to have an opinion about this situation. But we’re the only two whose opinions matter.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “It just felt shitty, hearing him say I’m not the man he thought he raised.”
“Ouch. That had to hurt.”
“It did.”
“But we can’t control how other people feel.”
“I can’t even control how I feel,” he said. “I’ve never been this . . . fucked up over anything. I feel like I don’t know myself at all.”
“That’s why you need to go do the show,” I urged. “Once you’re on the set, entertaining people, having a good time, you’ll remember who you are.”
He frowned. “But is that me?”
“It’s always been you before.”
He looked at my stomach. “What will I miss while I’m gone?”
“Me getting bigger. Some doctor appointments. Hearing me complain about shit like heartburn and nausea and having to pee all the time.”
“But you’ll tell me how you’re feeling, right?” he pressed. “And everything the doctor says?”
“Sure. But you don’t have to be here for that.” I shook my head. “You’re not abandoning me, Gianni. If that’s what you’re worried about. You’re just . . . being honest about what you really want.”
He didn’t reply right away. Then he looked at me intently. “Are you being honest about what you really want?”