Oh shit! He’s not supposed to know about the new boutique. “Oh, just some old plans,” I lie, hoping it ends there.

But it doesn’t. He slides the green rubber band off one of the rolls and takes a look.

“Why you being so nosy?” I ask, trying to play it off.

Daddy spreads the plans out on the table.

Cole walks over to take a look, too. “Oh, what’s this going to be?” he asks excitedly. “A bar? A restaurant?” Mom has designed several of those. Cole gets closer. “Big rounders . . . tiny squares . . . small rounders . . . rectangles everywhere. Oh, I see. It’s a boutique. It’s cool the way it’s set up,” he says, running his fingers along the blue lines. He’s always been able to easily read plans. But he’s terrible at reading the room. Can’t he see Daddy standing here fuming?

“Yeah, looks like your mom is opening another shop,” Daddy says.

“Oh, cool. I didn’t even know. Expanding! Go, Mom!” Cole says, still clueless.

Daddy sits back on the bench, crosses his arms, and starts biting the inside of his cheek near his bottom lip. He’s pissed.

Cole finally notices that something is up, and his face drains of excitement.

Mom walks into the kitchen and gets four plates down from the cabinet. She hasn’t even looked at Daddy.

I go help, taking four sets of silverware out of the drawer near the dishwasher. We are soooo close to having a family dinner. All of us together, sitting around the table, talking and sharing.

“You know what?” Daddy starts, and stands up. The crease above the bridge of his nose is deep, his eyebrows low, and his nostrils are flared.

Mom looks up at him. She’s holding two glass tumblers that she just got down from the cabinet.

“I came over here to apologize. For everything. For creating this whole mess. But then I see this. You want to talk about my secrets, but you have yours, too, Barbara A.” Daddy’s voice is loud and harsh, and the emphasis on Mom’s business name is nasty.

Cole and I exchange glances. He already looks ready to cry. But I’m sitting up here wondering about secrets. I mean, I know all about Mom’s secret. And yeah, she should have told Daddy about the new boutique, but Daddy stays trippin’ about how much she works. It’s not like he was about to be supportive. But what are Daddy’s secrets?

Mom doesn’t say anything. She places the two glasses on the counter and reaches to get one more (there goes our family dinner). I wish she would at least say something.

“Okay, okay,” Daddy continues, his face red. “You want to sit up here and ignore me? Well, I’m filing for sole custody. Let’s see how well you can ignore that.”