There was total silence over the phone. In rapidly dawning horror, I realized what I had just said. “Dad, I’m sorry—”

“Aria, your mom and I split up twelve—no, thirteen years ago,” he said. He sounded tired. “I’m not in love with her anymore. And she’s not the reason I’ve been having trouble with my book. But it’s almost done now.”

I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” He exhaled. “I’m sorry if I’ve given you the impression that I still wanted to be with your mom. I really don’t.”

I was uncomfortable. “We don’t have to talk about this.”

“No, we do. If this is what’s holding you back from working things out with her, we do. Listen. Your mom and I have both moved on, and I have gone on dates since we divorced. I don’t tell you everything, Ari. Nothing serious developed because—well, I’ve been busy.” He gave a short, rueful laugh. “I had five years of writer’s block, and tenure to go after. And I had you to take care of. I didn’t have the time or the inclination, and probably I would have made some bad decisions if I let myself get involved with anyone seriously. It’s been my choice. It’s not your mom’s fault.”

“But you had those newspaper clippings and—”

“I had what?” He sounded confused.

“I—I just thought you still loved her.” It hurt so much to say those words.

“I do love her,” he said firmly. “I’ll always love her. She gave you to me.”

My eyes grew hot. “Dad, I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, sweetie, I am happy. I’m so happy to talk to you about this. I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it before. I had no idea you— Maybe I should have had an idea. Maybe I’ve been clueless about everything. Your mom would certainly have said so.” He took a quick breath. “Look, it’s going to be fine. Your mom and I agreed a long time ago that we’re not meant to be together. It was a hard decision—I admit that. Maybe I let it show too much when you were younger. But I’m past it now, I really am. I’m happy that your mom has found someone. I hope you’ll be happy for her, too.”

I leaned against the wall and stared at the sunlight glowing through the curtains. “Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll try.”

—

In the living room, Joan was sitting on the couch with a bunch of photo albums spread out on the coffee table. Analemma, who was lying on the rug, raised her head when I came in, and Joan twisted around as if surprised to see me.

“Hi,” I said. “You’re not working this morning?”