Chapter 3 - The Wrong Kind of Silence
There was no answer that made me look good.
“I thought waiting would spare Margot a fight.”
Emmett glanced toward the reception hall.
“And that spared her?”
I looked at my granddaughter drinking water with both hands around the cup.
“No.”
The word tasted worse than any excuse would have.
It was also the only honest thing I had.
“I should have taken you aside. I was angry. I wanted Claire to hear it in front of people who couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.”
“You wanted witnesses.”
“Yes.”
“She needed her dad.”
I nodded.
“I got that wrong.”
Before he could answer, Claire entered without knocking.
Nora followed her but stayed beside the door.
“Can we stop making this uglier?” Claire asked.
Emmett stood.
“Tell me exactly what you said.”
“I said today was special for us. I said a marriage has to come first sometimes.”
“To a five-year-old?”
“You’re twisting this.”
Nora drew a breath.
“Claire, you told her to stay out of the family pictures.”
“The couple pictures.”
“You said family.”
Claire’s cheeks went red.
She looked at Margot, and her voice softened so suddenly it sounded rehearsed.
“Honey, you know I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Margot moved behind my leg.
Emmett stepped between them.
“Don’t make her help you explain it.”
For a moment, I saw the father who had slept on his daughter’s floor for six weeks after Phoebe died because she woke up screaming whenever she couldn’t see him.
Then Claire began to cry.
“I’ve spent two years trying to fit into a life that already had a wife in it.”
Emmett flinched.
“Phoebe is dead.”
“I know that.”
“Then why are you competing with her daughter?”
Claire reached for him.
He didn’t move closer, but he didn’t step away either.
I recognized the look on his face.
He was searching for a version of this evening that didn’t cost him somebody else.
“Take Margot home with you,” he told me.
“Please. Let me handle things here.”
I wanted to argue.
Then Margot tugged my sleeve.
“Can we go?”
I took her coat.
Emmett kissed her forehead and promised to call.
In the parking lot, I buckled her into the back seat.
She waited until I had started the engine.
“Grandpa?”
May you like
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“If Daddy has to choose, am I allowed to live with you?”
