She opened her mouth and took a minute step toward me, but then stopped, clamping her lips together again.

And then she ducked into the office, slamming the door behind her.

Giana

“You know I hate to see you like this,” Dad said, sipping his bourbon as I used my fork to push the salad around on my plate. I thought by at least moving it a little, it would look like I’d eaten some, but the heap of soggy arugula staring up at me begged to differ.

I released my grip on the utensil, sitting back in my booth on a defeated sigh. “I know. I’m sorry, Dad.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry about what you’re feeling. I want you to talk to me about it so we can figure out if there’s a way to fix what’s hurting you.”

“There isn’t,” I told him.

The corner of his mouth lifted a bit even as his brows inched together, his black wire-framed glasses shifting with the movement. He swirled his glass, taking another sip before he sat it down and leaned forward.

My own aqua eyes stared back at me, only his were darker, as was his skin and hair. But anyone who passed the table could see we were related, could see how much I favored him over my mom.

“Out of your control, huh?”

I nodded, picking up my fork again just so I could have something to do with my hands.

Dad thumbed a beat on the table. “Well, you’re at an age where life is going to start coming at you fast. This is likely the first of many things you’ll encounter that are out of your control.”

“It drives me crazy,” I admitted. “And it… hurts.”

I said that last part softly, wincing as my heart ached with that same fierce pain it had been randomly assaulting me with since Clay broke up with me.

He broke up with me.

I still couldn’t believe it.

I’d always thought the stages of grief went in order, but I found myself bouncing around between them like a pinball, knocking into denial only to swing over to anger on my way down to depression. I still hadn’t hit acceptance yet, though.

Part of me hoped I never would, because accepting it would mean it was real.

It still felt like a nightmare, like something happening to someone else. I kept staring at my phone, willing him to call it, willing myself to pick it up and text him. And when I wasn’t wishing to run into him at the stadium, I was debating if I should hand in my resignation so I could get out of there and never have to run into him again.