His entire face changed.
I had seen my father angry.
Proud.
Drunk.
Exhausted.
Laughing.
Grieving.
I had never seen him look fragile.
He stared at Lily for a long time.
Then he whispered, “Jesus.”
Mom smiled through tears.
Dad looked at Clare.
“I owe you something.”
Clare waited.
“I was wrong.”
Simple.
Hard.
Real.
“I laughed.”
His voice cracked.
“I laughed because Tessa did something insane and I didn’t know what else to do.”
Clare said, “You could have stopped her.”
“I know.”
“You could have checked whether I was okay.”
“I know.”
“You could have told your daughter not to throw things at a pregnant woman.”
“I know.”
Dad nodded each time.
No defense.
Then he looked at me.
“And when you reacted, I blamed you because it was easier than admitting I helped create the situation.”
That one surprised me.
Dad looked down at Lily.
“I spent years thinking keeping the family together was the same as keeping the peace.”
