Unlike Lake, Tiffany knew her dad was an asshole. But I’d met plenty of girls who’d willingly tethered themselves to jerks. Maybe it was worse for Tiffany because it was her dad. I didn’t have a good track record with dads. Hell, I hated my own. I thought I saw some of that in Tiffany’s eyes tonight, but she’d also watched him a lot of the meal, more than anyone else.
Lake only ate half her slice. She hadn’t finished her dinner, either, while I’d cleaned up a salad, two steaks, and dessert. Was she upset or just not hungry? As it was, I worried she was a little too thin. Then again, maybe it was a girl thing. Maddy’d rather have read or explored than come to the dinner table. Or bead. I’d forgotten about her jewelry phase until it’d hit me that day on the wall, when I’d fixed Lake’s bracelet. Maddy’d stay in her room for hours beading stuff like necklaces and anklets. I didn’t even know where those were. At my mom’s, maybe.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I said because they were looking at me. “I’ve never had better pie.”
Cathy smiled. “The crust was a little soggy, but it was a good first effort.”
Tiffany shrugged. “I didn’t think it was soggy at all.”
Cathy covered Tiffany’s hand on the table. “I’ve been trying to tell Tiffany the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. That’s why we’re teaching her to cook.”
I was more uncomfortable now than I’d been with their dad at the table. At least then, I’d known where I stood. Now, all eyes were on me. Why had I come here? Partly to see how Lake and Tiffany fit into this family. I figured the dynamic would help me understand them. Neither Lake nor her sister wanted for anything. I knew the property value of their home, the prestige of their neighborhood. They had a bar and expensive wine and special dishes. I suspected those things were important to Tiffany, but what about Lake?
I wasn’t in the habit of wondering these things about anyone. I went about my life and did what was necessary to put food in my own stomach and a roof over my head. I didn’t need much, not even to be happy or loved. Everyone I knew was killing himself somehow. Drugs, alcohol, work, shitty relationships, boredom. They pretended things mattered that didn’t. They stopped asking questions because they didn’t like the answers.
I’d seen too much and lost the goodness in my life young enough to understand nothing was fair. There were no guarantees. Lake didn’t know that yet, and I wanted her to keep that innocence as long as possible. Maddy? I could’ve protected her better. I did my best as her older brother, but if I’d known what was to come for her, I would’ve done more. I would’ve done whatever it took.
And I wanted to do the same for Lake, except that men in their twenties didn’t just hang around teenage girls they weren’t related to. And that left me only two options, one of which was to walk away. The other was sitting across the table from me, smiling like she had me trapped in a corner.
“Let’s get the dishes,” Cathy said to Lake. “Give these two some privacy.”
I didn’t know what in the hell went through Lake’s mind. Her eyes got huge and sad. At that moment, despite the makeup I was sure she’d stolen from Tiffany, Lake was a kid at the grown-up table. She reminded me of Maddy. Not physically, they were complete opposites, light and dark, but she looked up at me the same trusting way Maddy had. Like I could tell her anything and she’d believe it.
“Are you guys going out?” Lake asked.
“It’s not your business,” Tiffany said. “Mom told you to clear the table.”
I stood. “I’ll help.”
Cathy put her hand on my shoulder. “Absolutely not. Please, sit.”
“I really should take off,” I said. “Maybe you can walk me out, Tiff.”
“Sure.” She got up, exchanging a look with her mom.
I took that moment to check on Lake. She wanted to come outside, I could tell, but Tiffany wouldn’t invite her and I sure as hell wouldn’t, either. Best she stayed away after the fight I’d just witnessed. I nodded goodnight, hoping she’d understand in her own way. Damn if the hurt in her expression didn’t ease up.
Tiffany looped her arm in mine and walked me out front. “Was it awful?” she asked. “You were so good to put up with my dad.”
“It was all right. Don’t worry.”
“My mom likes you a lot. I can tell. Plus, I’m sure she loved that you had a second helping, and complimented her cooking . . .”
I stopped listening. The food and a ten-hour work day and two glasses of wine hit me all at once. I just wanted to lie down. There was a small grassy hill down to the curb, and when we reached the bottom, I cut her off. “Thanks for inviting me.”