“Sorry.”
For a few seconds they sat, neither one saying anything. Just drinking their respective morning beverages, noodling around with the eggs, and trying to, no doubt, figure out how to repair what Melanie had done the night before.
Finally, Emma cleared her throat. “Is it true? Did Daddy leave?”
Melanie swallowed, studying a chip in the polish on her pinkie. “I don’t know. I guess.”
“Why?”
Well, that was the loaded question, wasn’t it? Melanie wasn’t sure what to say. Should she tell Emma that Kit likely wanted to have a more “intimate” relationship with Charlotte? Or maybe she should tell her daughter it could be because Melanie didn’t want to have sex with him every other night? Maybe it was more than sex. Maybe it was something else. Maybe it was because Melanie was boring or repressed or not as young and pretty as she once was. Or maybe she herself had no clue what she’d done to drive Kit from the life they’d built together and loved until . . . well, until they both hadn’t loved it anymore. How did a woman tell her daughter that she may have fallen out of love with her father, but she wasn’t sure because she’d been too busy grieving her sister, planning a wedding, and hating Tennyson to worry as much about her husband? So Melanie went with, “It’s complicated.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not an actual answer, Mom.”
“No, but it’s all I have at this point. I’m not sure why your father left. Things have been difficult.”
“Does this mean a divorce?” Same question Noah asked. Melanie could remember asking this one herself when her father’s secret had been spilled and her own mother had been furious at Albert, coldly eviscerating him for his flaws and then ignoring him. She’d even moved to the guest bedroom for several months. Even then, Melanie had been afraid that her parents might split. It was probably every child’s worst nightmare, losing that one stable element in their life.
“I don’t know. Your dad is asking for some room. I’m not sure what that means.”
Probably meant he was gently cupping Charlotte’s head as he plowed her against the hotel room headboard. For men, space meant permission to sample the single life, and Kit had a willing whore at hand just waiting to give him what his wife wasn’t.
“So why did you attack Tennyson? I thought things were better between you two? Over the past month or so you were almost friendly, and then—” She snapped her fingers.
“It’s between me and Tennyson.”
“Horseshit.”
“Em,” Melanie chided, wishing she had a cigarette. This might mean she had a full-fledged addiction to nicotine. Time to toss the Newports and go cold turkey. She couldn’t use the upheaval in her life to justify doing something that could kill her. Hillary had taught her that much. “I’m serious. It’s between us.”
“Well, I pretty much already know. Everyone at the bingo game knows. You think she told Dad to leave you.”
Okay, Melanie had probably been a bit louder than she intended when she yelled whatever she’d yelled at Tennyson. She didn’t remember exactly what that was, but it was damned sure some accusation. All she knew was that she’d spent the whole evening trying to pretend she was fine, but she was so not fine that eventually she became a powder keg of emotion. Having Tennyson constantly pecking at her with “what’s your problem” all night hadn’t helped. Instead it had felt like the woman had tossed gasoline in her face each time Tennyson looked at her like she was a wet blanket. “Tennyson did what Tennyson does best—she stirred the ant mound with a stick.”
“Because she told Dad to fire Charlotte?” Emma asked.
Melanie set the coffee down a little too hard. A plop of hot coffee landed on her hand. “Wait. What? Fire Charlotte?”
“This is the second time this morning that I’ve made coffee, you know.” Emma arched her brows expectantly. Lord, the child was good at making Melanie feel squirmy. She’d make a great mother someday.
“You’ve already spoken to Tennyson?”
Emma nodded. “We accidently left her at the grill last night, so she had to Uber home. I felt horrible about that, especially since my own mother assaulted her. I went to check on her this morning. The black eye is legit, but good makeup will hide it.”
This time the thought of Tennyson with a black eye wasn’t amusing. The woman told Emma that she’d told Kit to cut Charlotte loose. Melanie could actually see Tennyson doing that. She was never good at staying out of everyone’s business. But Kit had made no reference to Tennyson suggesting such a thing. He made it sound like Tennyson had issued a warning to live his best life . . . one without Melanie.
“Is Dad having an affair with Charlotte?” Emma asked.
“I don’t think so, but I don’t know.”
Emma nodded. “But Charlotte wants Dad.”
“Yeah. Probably,” Melanie said, looking down at the droplets of coffee against the marbled white counter. “What exactly did Tennyson tell you?”
“That she had gone to his office to drop off a check and had a talk with Dad. She suspected something and confronted him, reminding him that he had a good life and he was putting that in jeopardy. She said she never told him to do anything like what you accused her of saying. She said she thought she was helping you.”
“I don’t need her to help me.”
Emma looked at her, studying her. Melanie smoothed a hand through her hair and looked away. She didn’t want that wriggling guilt squirming inside her. She’d jumped to conclusions about Tennyson. But still, the woman had no business sticking her nose into her and Kit’s business. Her good intentions had done irreparable damage.
“Mom, I’m pregnant,” Emma said.
Melanie literally almost fell off the stool. She’d been shifting her weight with one foot on the foot rest, and at Emma’s words, her foot had slipped. She grabbed the counter edge and righted herself. “What?”
“I’m almost eighteen weeks along. I found out right before graduation, right after Andrew proposed to me. That’s why we needed to get married this summer,” Emma said, cradling the coffee cup that held . . . tea.
Of course. Tea, the refusal to drink alcohol, the glow. So many indications she’d missed. How had she missed all that? So much now made sense. Dear Lord, her daughter was pregnant.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Emma gave her an apologetic look. “Andrew and I decided to wait until I was past the first trimester. Lots of women have miscarriages. We weren’t actually planning on getting married during my first year of school, but once we found out that we were pregnant, we knew that was the right thing to do. We also didn’t want people thinking that was the sole reason we were getting married. I don’t mind people knowing once the wedding is over, but having people think we’re only doing it because of the baby sort of dampens the whole experience. We wanted our wedding to be about our commitment. We had planned to tell y’all tomorrow. You probably noticed I’ve been wearing tunic dresses and baggier clothes. That’s why I wanted a wedding dress that wasn’t a mermaid style. No hiding a little baby bump in one of those suckers.” Her smile was soft as she cupped the little bump revealed when she pressed her hand against her T-shirt.