“That’s not the point, Siri.”

“He agreed to that?” I say quietly. Dad can be an ass, but that big of an ass?

“Yes, he agreed to it.”

“So, you also agreed to it.”

She blinks. “Yes. I did.”

“He’s not allowed to contact me for the rest of my life?” I clarify angrily.

“Till you’re a legal adult.” Siri is already a legal adult.

We fall into silence. What she’s not saying is that she also agreed not to see me, Jamie. She agreed to drop me from her life without argument. It’s been almost three years since I turned eighteen. But of course, she couldn’t dare reach out and ruin her relationship with Siri by revealing her horrible, giant, chest-crushing lie.

I reach up and grab on to the weird handle all cars have along the rim, just for something to do.

“Were you that desperate to be free of him that you were willing to cut off his kid from the prospect of ever knowing her father?” I grind out.

I’m gripping the handle so tightly that it’s digging into the skin of my hands.

Mara’s mouth melts into a flat, skin-colored line. “Your father doesn’t deserve to be a part of this family.”

“What family? It’s just me. And Papa when he’s over. You’re MIA all the time. Who are you to decide who I deserve in my family? You haven’t even given me a choice! What makes him so terrible?”

“Have you forgotten”—she raises her voice—“that your father left us? I’d say that’s pretty intercoursing terrible! He put himself before us!” Mara hits the blinker, making her way over to the exit lane.

“Haven’t you been putting your career before George and me?”

“That’s enough,” Mara snaps. “Life is about balance; marriage is about compromise, not ultimatums.”

I put my feet up on the dash. “Yeah, I don’t think you’ve mastered that balance.”

“We’re not talking about this anymore.”

I shrug half-heartedly. “I’m still talking about it. I’m going to keep talking about it until things start to make sense.”

Dr. Sparrow is a nonstarter. I inform her that I lied about hallucinating my imaginary friend to piss off my mom, and we sit in silence for fifty minutes.

I take the train into the city three hours earlier than I need to so I can shop for a non-Siri, non-Mara outfit to wear to Zarar’s swanky rooftop party. The pent-up anger I’m holding toward my mother is not doing her bank account any favors today. I’ve seen Zarar dress in the wild. The dude’s got game. Hopefully Siri’s credit card rights won’t be rescinded when Mara gets the bill.