“Yeah.” He put his hands in his pockets, looking around idly. All around us were people who loved Caitlin, and who appreciated what I had done to raise her. It was just occurring to him that he’d had nothing to do with any of it. He may have come here to take a victory lap, try to gain some credit for the daughter he hadn’t helped raise, but when it came down to it, Willow Creek—this town that I was planning to leave—had sided with me. I hadn’t expected that at all.
“Are you heading home today?” This was good neutral ground. Logistics were always easier to discuss than emotions.
“Yes. I was planning to start the drive back after this.” He turned that sentence into a question, like he was angling for something else, an invitation for him to join us in whatever celebration we’d planned.
Nope. “Where’s home? Are you still in Indiana?” I hoped not, for his sake. That was a long-ass drive.
“Pennsylvania. A little north of Philly.”
“Oh.” That was closer than I’d expected. Closer than I wanted, honestly. All this time he’d lived a couple states—a couple hours—away and had never . . . I cut off that train of thought.
“That’s not bad,” Mitch said, clearly just as eager to shove Robert out of town as I was. I pressed my lips together to hide my smile. “That’s what, two or three hours? Even if you hit a drive-through on the way out of town you can be home before dark.”
“Yeah. Getting home before dark is good.” Robert was floundering in the conversation, and I had no desire to rescue him.
“Great.” Mitch was deliciously dismissive, and then an awkward silence fell, because we’d run out of small talk and there was no way to segue into anything else we could possibly discuss. What’s your second family like? Do you have kids with your new wife? Does she know where you are this weekend?
I decided to have mercy on him. “Go talk to Caitlin,” I said. “I’m sure she’d love to spend a little more time with you before you go.”
Robert seemed surprised by the suggestion, and his smile was grateful. “Thanks. I’ll do that. I . . . I appreciate you being okay with this, April. Honestly. I know I don’t deserve—”
“It’s fine.” I cut him off, because this line of conversation was just like the one I’d had with Emily recently. I wasn’t fine with it. Not at all, and if I talked about it any more the tears were going to come. And I was not going to cry in front of him. Never in front of him.
“If you wanted to take off, I can drop her by your . . .”
“No.” The audacity of this guy. Trying to drive me off, when he was the interloper? All of my goodwill was almost burned away, but I managed to say one last thing. “Tell her to come find me when she’s ready to go.”
“Smart,” Mitch said as we watched Robert walk away.
“Hmm?” I turned to him, eyebrows raised.
“Not letting him stick around. Or take Caitlin anywhere. I’m sure he’s trustworthy and all, but . . .”
“Oh, I’m not sure of that. Not at all. And hell if I’m letting him know where I live.”
“See?” Mitch dropped his arm from my waist, but before I could miss the heat he draped it back around my shoulders instead, giving me a one-armed hug. More casual. Less loverly. Probably for the best. “Like I said. Smart.”
“That’s me,” I said absently. My attention was across the field as Robert reached Caitlin where she still stood with Simon and Emily. He spoke to Caitlin, and she instantly looked around until her gaze caught mine. I waved, and she waved back, the smile on her face genuine, if not huge. She was going to be okay. I could relax.
Mitch must have felt some of the tension leave my shoulders, and he tightened his grip. “You did great, babe.”
“Don’t call me that.” I tried to resist him, but something inside me melted when he brushed a kiss on my temple. Oh, the hell with it. He was right: Caitlin wasn’t a student here anymore.
Families had started filtering out now that everything was over, and Emily found me again a little while later.
“You okay?”
“I told you to quit asking me that.” But my rebuke had no teeth. I kept my eyes on Caitlin, where she and her father sat together on one of the bleachers, talking. Their phones were out, scrolling through photos, passing them back and forth. Seeing them together like that, I could see the parts of Robert that were in Caitlin. The shape of her jaw, the line of her shoulders. I’d never noticed that before. “I’m good,” I said, my eyes still on my daughter.
“Yeah. You are.” Emily smirked. “You and Mitch looked great, by the way.”
“Ha.” Mitch had taken off a few minutes before, after asking roughly five hundred times if I could make it through the rest of the day without him. I brushed off his innuendo with a laugh and sent him on his way, sternly quelling the butterflies in my stomach.
“No, I mean it. When I talked to him last night he said he’d help you out, but he went above and beyond, right? He looked really convincing, pretending to be your boyfriend.”
“Right.” Pretending. The butterflies in my stomach thudded to their deaths. It had all been fake. For a few minutes there I had completely forgotten. And in those few minutes I’d felt better than I had in . . . well, probably ever.
* * *
? ? ?
“Hey, Mom.”
I looked up from my phone. Caitlin stood in front of me, a disheveled graduate. The heat of the day had set in, and it was definitely getting to her. She’d shucked the cheap polyester gown and carried it over one arm, the mortarboard dangling from the same hand.
“Hey, baby,” I said. “Need a hair tie?” Not even waiting for an answer, I started digging in my purse. Since our house had two long-haired women in it, there was always a handful of hair ties at the bottom of my bag.
“Please.” She took the thin elastic band, dropping her graduation cap and gown to the bleacher next to me before catching her hair back in a ponytail. I glanced around while she did so.
“Where’s . . . did your father take off?” I almost winced at the way I phrased the question. That was all her father did, her whole life. Take off.
But Caitlin just nodded. “Yeah, he said he needed to get on the road. Going home, I guess.” Her voice was carefully neutral, and I tried hard to parse how she was feeling.
“Do you want to call him? If you want to spend a little more time, we can . . .” I had no idea how to finish that sentence. We can what, exactly? Have an excruciating lunch together? But this was Caitlin’s day. If that was what she wanted, I would make it happen.
She waved a hand. “Nah.” She picked up her stuff as I got to my feet, and we started the long walk to the parking lot. “I’m glad he came, though. It was good to talk to him. He said we’ll stay in touch.” She shrugged. “He’s nice, I guess. But he’s not family. I already have plenty of that here. You. Emily and Mr. G. And . . . you know, Coach Malone.” She slipped a side-eye in my direction, and I groaned and let my head fall back on my neck.
“Not you too! I told you, there’s nothing going on . . .”