My heart plummeted and I wanted to throw up. In some ways, it was what I’d wanted to hear practically my whole life. But faced with the actuality, I was terrified. Did it mean he was leaving us—leaving me?

“You want me and Mom to be happy, don’t you?” he asked.

“Of course,” I answered immediately.

“Good.” Then Dad took another deep breath. “How do you feel about coming to live with me afterward?”

“Really?” I asked, so happy at the thought of a fresh start, just the two of us.

“If you want,” he said, his smile hesitant like he was afraid I’d say no.

“Yes!” I said, and we shared relieved laughs.

The plane hit the ground with a thud but I was still soaring.

“So here’s the thing—I haven’t been totally honest,” he continued, clearing his throat. “Brenda, she’s more than just a colleague. It’s complicated.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Why she was with us all the time, why she was so nice to me.

“Oh.” It felt like a punch to the gut. He’d lied to me.

“I just wanted you to get to know her without any pressure,” he rambled on as we taxied to the gate. “So you could be honest with me. And you said you like her, so it all worked out.”

I gave him a small smile but I didn’t feel like smiling.

When we deplaned and headed toward baggage claim, I was still in shock. A million questions flooded my mind. Had it all been Brenda’s idea? When did Dad decide all of this? When did they even start seeing each other? And, oh God, Mom. Dad had asked me to keep a secret, but now I couldn’t imagine facing her.

“It’s going to be okay, Remy,” Dad said on the way home. “We’ll figure everything out—I’m just so happy that you’re on my side. I feel like I can do anything, knowing I have you.” And like magic, all of my doubts seemed to evaporate. We were a team, we were a family, just the two of us. I was his favorite, like Christian was Mom’s favorite. Someone wanted me, someone loved me. Everything would be okay.

Elise listened quietly as I talked about that weekend in Chicago, a warm hand on my shoulder. We were in the Pink Caddy, passing her last cigarette back and forth between us.

“What happened?” she asked when I finished.

“I don’t know. For a few weeks, my dad seemed euphoric. Then he left for another work trip, this time without me, and came back sad.” I turned away, blew smoke out, and watched it disappear into the night. We sat with the top down, shivering in our coats, fingers shaking and clumsy with the cigarette. “He and Brenda must’ve broken up. I don’t even think he asked Mom for a divorce that time.” An errant tear slipped down my face.

“Unlike now,” Elise said.

“Unlike now,” I confirmed. I didn’t understand what had changed in the intervening two and a half years, how he could go from acting like he cared about me to not wanting me at all.