Chapter 1 - MY FATHER PICKED UP THE PHONE
My stepmother slapped me twice before anyone at my graduation party understood she was serious.
The first strike snapped my face sideways.
The second came before I had recovered.
“You don’t choose anything,” Diane screamed.
Thirty people stood beneath string lights in my parents’ Fairfax County backyard.
My professors.
Cousins.
Neighbors.
Friends who had driven down from George Mason University after commencement.
And Ethan.
My fiancé.
The diamond on my left hand had been there less than four hours.
We had announced the engagement after my father raised a champagne glass and asked me to say a few words about graduating.
I thought the worst reaction might be awkward silence.
Instead Diane crossed the lawn.
She grabbed my hair near the back of my head.
“You need my permission.”
“Diane, let go!”
Ethan was already moving toward us.
My father stood behind her.
Robert Carter.
Fifty-eight.
Dark suit.
Gray-brown hair.
The man who had raised me since my biological mother died when I was eleven.
He did nothing.
That confused me more than Diane.
Then I saw fear on his face.
Not fear for me.
Fear of something else.
I reached for the phone in my purse.
Diane shoved me.
My heel caught in the grass.
I went down on one hand.
Ethan knocked Diane’s arm away and stepped between us.
“You’re done.”
Diane stumbled backward two steps.
I pushed myself onto my knees.
“You’re not my mother.”
Her face changed.
It was the first time I had ever said it like that.
Diane had married Dad when I was fourteen.
For nine years I had worked hard not to use the word stepmother as a weapon.
She had driven me to soccer.
Helped me pick a prom dress.
Sat beside me when I had my wisdom teeth removed.
She had also opened my mail.
Read my texts when I was younger.
Called my internships “family decisions.”
Told me which friends were bad influences.
Insisted I spend every college break at home.
Every time I objected, Dad said:
“She loves hard.”
Now Diane pointed at me.
“Your life belongs here.”
The words landed strangely.
Not:
You’re too young to marry.
Not:
I don’t trust Ethan.
Here.
I looked toward Dad.
That was when I saw him bend down.
My phone had fallen out of my purse when Diane shoved me.
Robert picked it up.
Instead of handing it back, he slipped it into the inside pocket of his suit.
Our eyes met.
He froze.
“Dad?”
Diane saw that I had noticed.
Panic flashed across her face.
Then she came toward me again.
Ethan moved to block her.
Guests started shouting.
Someone knocked over a chair.
I tried to stand.
The world tilted.
My head had struck the low stone border around Mom’s old rose bed when I fell.
I remember Ethan saying my name.
I remember Dad reaching toward me.
Then everything went black.
When I woke again, the room was white.
Hospital ceiling.
Monitor.
Dry mouth.
A nurse beside me.
I turned my head.
No Ethan.
No Dad.
No Diane.
“What day is it?”
The nurse looked at me carefully.
“Tuesday.”
My graduation party had been Saturday.
I stared at her.
“No.”
“You’ve been unconscious on and off for three days.”
My heart began pounding.
“Where’s Ethan?”
She hesitated.
“Your family said the engagement ended.”
I thought I had misheard.
“What?”
The nurse looked toward the bedside cabinet.
“There were some messages.”
I reached automatically for my phone.
It wasn’t there.
May you like
And suddenly the last thing I remembered before the darkness returned with perfect clarity.
My father putting it inside his jacket.
