Page 20

Chapter 20

Isa

“Your father ?” Grace’s blue eyes bulged before she blinked and squinted across the dining room to double-check. “Are yousure?”

“Grace, no,” Everett said when she shifted in her seat and stretched to see. She might as well have raised a pair of binoculars. “Don’t make it obvious—”

He dropped off; Papá had turned in his cream-colored chair and was glancing around the restaurant, as if he knew he were being watched. It was definitely him, in a charcoal-gray suit with his salt-and-pepper hair and neatly trimmed beard.

Georgetown, I thought, mind scattering. Why isn’t he in Georgetown?

Papá promised he would be home tonight. “I’ll see you for dinner on Friday!” he’d said right before leaving for Washington, DC, on Sunday morning. He didn’t usually spend an entire week down there, but he wanted to work remotely while he taught class. He invited Mamá along, too; she’d only ever spent a weekend at his apartment. “You should!” I agreed. “I can stay with Grace.”

But Mamá had shaken her head. “There is a lot going on this week, Luis,” she’d said, taking his hand and squeezing it as she smiled apologetically. “I should be in the office.”

Papá had nodded. I remembered wishing he’d looked more disappointed. Or that he would ask her again, one more time. But he’d just given us both kisses on the cheek before driving off in his vintage Jaguar.

My heart thumped, thumped, thumped. Because not only was Luis Cruz not where he was supposed to be, but he was also sitting with a woman who very much wasn’t my mother.

Like the most mature of adults, Grace, Everett, and I scrambled under our table to hide. “Something must’ve come up,” I whispered, forcing myself to ignore Grace and Everett’s clasped hands. Waiting for our Uber after our art museum excursion had revealed all. “If he’s back in Philly, something must’ve come up at the office.”

Grace’s brows knitted together. “Then why wouldn’t he have told you?” she asked, eyes darting back to Papá’s table. “And who—”

“Your beverages, esteemed guests,” our server interrupted, bending down with a tray. He acted like nothing was strange about us crouching underneath the table. He handed Grace her Shirley Temple, Everett his iced tea, and me my lemonade. We all took frantic sips. “May I get you anything else?” he asked. “Are you ready to order, perhaps?”

“Actually, we’ll just take the check,” Everett said, and half smiled. “Thank you.”

Adrien rolled his eyes. “My pleasure.”

“I still don’t understand,” Grace said once he was gone. “Your dad had to teach at Georgetown this week, but he came back early? And that woman with him is…what? A client?” She pursed her lips. “Because if I were her, I wouldn’t wear a dress like that to a business lunch.”

I caught Everett giving Grace a sympathetic but almost pitying look. Oh, Grace, it said. Grace, think about it.

She didn’t need to, because three seconds later, our view answered her question. The three of us saw my father lean in so he could kiss his lunch date on the lips. “Oh my god,” I vaguely registered Grace whisper, everything in the restaurant turning to white noise. I watched the woman smile before putting her hand—instead of a neat manicure, she had a set of sparkly claws—on Papá’s cheek to deepen the kiss.

I squeezed my prickling eyes shut to pretend I was asleep, that this was all a nightmare. What was my father doing? How could he do this to Mamá? He loved her.

Didn’t he?

The back of my neck swirled with heat, and I felt lightheaded. “G, I can’t…” I covered my face with my hands so I wouldn’t see spots. “I can’t…”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Grace said as I swallowed, knowing my panic attack was coming. “I’m right here, Isa.” She moved closer so she could loop her arm through mine. “I know I don’t have the same strain of faith, trust, and pixie dust as James,” she murmured. We both knew her brother was best at calming me. “But I’m here and I have a plan.”

Do you? I thought, but couldn’t voice the words. My lips couldn’t form them.

“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “It’s going to be totally fine. You and Ev are going to leave, you’re going to go downstairs…” She glanced at him, and he nodded. “And I’ll meet you there once I pay our tab. All right?”

I neither agreed nor disagreed, my tongue still slack in my mouth. Grace unzipped my purse, pulled out my Jackie O sunglasses, and gently put them on me while Ev slipped on his Wayfarers. “Don’t let him see you, G,” I said when she peeked out from our table to do some recon. “Promise you won’t get caught.”

“I promise,” she replied. “Once I sign the check, I’m out ofhere.”

Everett held out his hand. “Come on, Isa,” he said. “Now’s the time. They’re ordering….”

Don’t look back, I told myself once the two of us were walking toward the exit. My heels click-clacked on the marble floor, louder than the room’s moody music and conversation. After I wobbled, Everett’s hand moved to the small of my back to steady me. Whatever you do, don’t look back.

“Thank you for dining at Jean-Georges,” the French hostess said drily as we passed her podium. Had she been watching us the whole time? “We hope you enjoy the rest of yourday!”

Once we were safely in the elevator, I leaned my head back and tried to breathe. I’d always known my parents had a unique marriage compared to their friends. They weren’t the type of couple that had constant heart-eyes for each other or binged Netflix together—and I admit, that did bother me a little. “Do your parents ever go out?” I remembered asking James several months ago, the two of us secluded in his room practicing a new song. James had gotten a new guitar, and Grace had a tennis match.

“Out?” James stopped strumming his guitar strings and gave me a look. “Of course, all the time. They go out with your parents, Mrs.Adler, with neighbors and other friends.” He shrugged. “For work events, too, but I think the highlights of those are coming home and talking smack about colleagues.”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” I said. “I mean do they go out alone ? Like on dates?”

James ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, they do,” he admitted. “Every Thursday night.”

I nodded. Everett’s parents had been like that, too.

“Mine never do that,” I told James. The realization hit me—my parents truly led separate lives. That was how their marriage worked.

But now, stomach squirming, I calculated—the mental bullet points coming quickly. I realized my mother spent a lot of time on the phone, which clearly meant she needed someone to talk to, because she’d never particularly preferred speaking on the phone. She was a texter.

My parents never went to bed at the same time. Whenever I brewed chamomile tea, I could see lamplight spilling through the bottom of Papá’s study door.

Our family hadn’t had a sit-down dinner in months.

And the only time they seemed happy together was whenever our families socialized.

The word “affair” had come up, but I’d let it roll off my shoulders. Three months ago, I’d overheard James’s parents talking one night after my family had hosted dinner and I’d gone home with the Barbours for a sleepover. “Mara asked why he wasn’t wearing his wedding ring and he said it accidentally went down the drain while he was rinsing the dinner dishes,” I’d overheard Mrs.Barbour tell her husband, skeptically adding, “But when have we ever seen Luis Cruz wash anything, Scott?”

I remembered almost laughing. Did Papá do the dishes often? No, but we never had many dishes to do. Every take-out place in town recognized my phone number!

“You don’t seem surprised,” I told Everett as the elevator doors slid open and we walked across the lobby.

When he didn’t respond, I knew.

“Our moms talk on the phone,” I guessed. “Mine calls yours.”

And then, I suspected, Mrs.Adler talks to Everett.

“Isa,” he said gently, “with the number of ‘business trips’ your dad takes, and all the late nights in his study, he’s either having an affair or sworn to secrecy in the CIA. Which one do you think is more realistic?”

My heart twisted so tightly that I felt like my body was being crippled from within. A hard lump formed in my throat. “He’s not in the CIA.”

“No.” Ev shook his head. “I really doubt it.”

I nodded, teary and not quite knowing what to say next. If James were here, he would have Google, Facebook, and LinkedIn tabs open on his laptop, Instagram and X-but-still-basically-Twitter on his phone, and be asking me if my father had a company directory on hand, trying to identify this other woman. I bet it’s someone long distance, he’d say. Probably Chicago, since whenever he’s not home or in DC, Chicago’s where he mostly travels for work….

James would have a name, headshot, occupation, and list of favorite hobbies by dinnertime.

I felt a sharp chord suddenly being strummed across myribs.

I had never missed James Barbour more.

“Do you think Mamá knows?” I asked once we were outside waiting for Grace. Everett stood still with his hands in his pockets, but I anxiously paced the sidewalk.

Ev shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “But based on what she’s told my mom, my mom suspects an affair.” He released a deep breath. “Please don’t be upset with her for telling me, Isa. She has her therapist, but ever since my dad…” He trailed off and we made eye contact. His were glassy. “She has no one else to really talk to,” he said. “She lost the person she shared everything with for two decades. I understand if you hate me for knowing, but please, don’t hate her for tellingme.”

“I would never,” I whispered.

In response, Everett shucked off James’s blazer and wordlessly offered it to me. I stopped pacing and pulled it on. Then Everett stepped closer and wrapped me in a hug—a true, heartfelt hug. “Until next time, kind sir!” we heard an overdramatic voice call to the security guard as she exited the building.

Grace.

I could hear her feet pounding the concrete; she was running.

“G!” I shouted but didn’t make any move to escape Everett’s embrace. He was warm, familiar—and safe. Grace threw herself against us, one arm around Everett and one arm around me. “Is everything okay?” I asked. “What took you so long?”

“And why do you smell like lilacs?” Everett wondered.

“Adrien was slow with the check,” she answered. “And then I had to use the facilities. The bathroom is basically a Sephora, Isa!”

I knew she was trying to make me laugh, but I couldn’t; instead, I burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to have lunch.”

“Isa, no.” Grace dismantled our three-person hug. “Don’t apologize.” She had a blazing look on her face, one I’d never seen before; she was furious. “Blame your father.” She gulped. “And blame me, for being an absolute glacier on the uptake.” Her expression hardened again. “I am a moron. How long hasthis—”

Someone’s stomach rumbled.

Really rumbled.

Everett held his hands up and blushed. “I’m starving,” he admitted. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Breakfast—that had been hours and hours ago now.

“Tut-tut, young man,” Grace said, and touched his pink cheek. “We’ll get you some food ASAP, I promise.” She turned back to me. “Isa—”

“Later,” I told her. Now wasn’t the place, now wasn’t the time. “I want to get out of here.” I took her hand and squeezedit.

Grace nodded, and within the next minute, we’d secured another Uber. Thankfully our driver wasn’t wearing any Philly sports apparel.

But he did give us a look after Everett confirmed the destination. “Pat’s?” he said, then shook his head. “No, no. You should be going to Geno’s. ”