The rest of the evening was strange. I could see my mom was making a huge effort to rein her emotions in as we all sat around the kitchen table sharing a pizza. This was maybe the longest time we’d been in the same room together in years, and although it felt awkward, there was something nice about it. And Zac looked so happy. He was actually smiling. My dad put Zac to sleep that night, and when he returned downstairs, my mom made herself scarce.

He sat down on the couch opposite me, wringing his hands as if he had something important to say. The tension was unbearable, so I broke it.

“So have you set a wedding date?” I asked. It came out more sarcastically than I’d hoped it would. He looked up at me. He had my eyes. Hazel. My coloring. Red hair that was looking grayer than I remembered.

“Not yet,” he said softly. “I know you don’t really like her, but if you got to know Maddy, you’d find out that she’s not as bad as you think.”

I sighed. “I don’t not like Maddy,” I said. “She’s fine. She tries really hard, and is really very sweet but she’s just . . . well . . .” I clutched my hands in my lap. Vicki said I needed to tell my dad how I felt, and now seemed like as good a time as any. “You had an affair with her, Dad.” The words came out cold and firm, and he looked at me and nodded.

“I know,” he said.

“You lied and snuck around and you weren’t where you were meant to be the day Zac had his accident. When we needed you.”

“I know,” he whispered. I could hear the pain and shame in his voice.

“And are you sorry you did it? Are you?” I asked, my heart started beating faster now.

He hung his head. “I’m sorry I had an affair, but I’m not sorry I met Maddy. I could have handled it differently, though. Should have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I regret that.”

“How long was it going on, before Mom caught you?”

He sighed. It looked like he didn’t want to answer this question.

“How long, Dad? I deserve to know this.”

“A year,” he said.

“One year!” I shook my head and put my face in my hands. This was not what I’d imagined. A few months maybe. I looked back on that year now through a different lens. He’d lied to us for a whole year, what else was a lie? Could I trust all those times he’d said he loved me? And when we’d done things together, had he really been there, or had she always been on his mind? Coming between us like an uninvited guest. He must have known what I was thinking.