“I thought… I thought you were being selfish and didn’t care. And you never corrected me.” She didn’t know why this was so easy to accept, while at the same time it ached all the way to her core. It was like someone upended her view of reality, and it sucked, but part of her had been waiting for it to happen.
“Andrew talks big, and he knows when he’s embellishing, but he’s typically pretty honest about that. Hates Dad for it.” Mercy shifted in her seat. “I have a list of four people I’d do anything for—there aren’t even enough to make it five. Ian, Liz, Andrew, and you. Dad won’t ever be on there, reconciliation or not. But that relationship works for you, and he’s been kind since I came back. It’s not my place to destroy your time with him.”
“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” All these years, the things Susan thought about her sister… \so completely wrong.
“It is what it is. Are you sure you’re all right? Whatever happened, you woke up—”
“Alone in a hotel room that wasn’t mine. I know. My ego’s wounded. I’m good otherwise. Thank you for coming to get me.”
Mercy squeezed Susan’s knee. “I’m always here for you. Just don’t make me choose between you and Andrew,” she said in a teasing tone, complete with wink.
Susan needed to process the morning’s revelations, and she didn’t know what to think about her father, but the joke made her feel better. “I won’t. Cross my heart, hope to die.”
“Thanks.” Mercy’s frown vanished so quickly, Susan wondered if she imagined it.
“I should let you get back. I’m sorry for interrupting your honeymoon.”
“Good idea.”
The new information raced in Susan’s thoughts while Mercy drove. If Dad had changed, there was nothing to worry about. But who would do what he did to Mercy to an otherwise good kid? If it was true, there must be more bad to Mercy than Susan knew, but that didn’t feel right either.
Susan knew one thing for sure, out of the entire mess of confusion—Andrew was right. If she didn’t pursue her passion, she’d never forgive herself. If she couldn’t get past what held her back, and find a way to move forward with the kind of teaching she wanted to do, she’d always wonder why she gave it up.
Before she knew it, the ten-minute journey to her car was over, and Mercy was parking next to it in the lot.
“I have another favor to ask. Do you mind if I borrow one of the offices here today? I want to make some calls, and it seems more professional here.” And there was less of a chance for interruption.
“Of course. Don’t stay too late. Set the alarm when you’re done. You know the drill,” Mercy said.
Susan grabbed her coffee and hopped from the car. “Thank you. For everything.”
Mercy looked like she wanted to say something, then smiled and waved. “See ya.”
Susan got settled at Reception and logged into the network. When she said she’d done everything she could to get a dance job, it wasn’t completely true. She’d been so hung up on landing a high-profile gig—full of glitz, glamor, and with a low rate of acceptance—she avoided the more obvious opportunities. Teaching at smaller, private studios. Performing more often, with less in-the-spotlight groups. If the point was to fill her résumé, she needed to stop being so picky. And if she had to be honest with herself, the appeal of the bigger venues was that they gave her a better excuse when she failed.
She started down the list of studios, phoning and speaking with managers, seeing who was looking, and talking to anyone and everyone who would take her call. After several hours, she had only had one nibble, but she jumped on it. Making the interview meant taking time off work, but it wasn’t as though she’d miss the paycheck. She’d tell Dad it was classroom observation, in conjunction with her major. Not technically a lie.
She wouldn’t keep this from him, but there was no reason to tell him before things were set in stone. When he heard, he’d be happy for her.
And if not… She’d deal with that bridge when she reached it.
* * * *
Andrew asked the waitress to keep the coffee coming, but he didn’t know if there were sufficient amounts in the restaurant to ward off the creeping exhaustion. He struggled to focus on breakfast, rather than on how Susan was reacting to what he did. He couldn’t explain why he’d texted Mercy or given her the impression he did. However, running on two hours of sleep and some haunted fucking memories and dreams, it seemed like the smartest way to keep himself in check.
“Why didn’t you bring your girlfriend?” Lucas’s question dragged Andrew back to the meal.
Andrew must have missed a detail somewhere in the conversation. “Who?”
“Susan. The one with the blue hair.”
Kandace met Andrew’s gaze, then took a sip of her iced tea.
What the hell was that look supposed to mean? “She’s a friend,” Andrew said.
“Oh.” Lucas poked at his waffles and rolled a strawberry around. “One who might come down with you next time?”
Andrew liked the excuse both to visit Lucas again and see Susan. “It’s up to her, but I’ll ask. How’s therapy?” It would have tasted better to ask how the institutionalized brainwashing was going, but he didn’t want to argue. Not today. Not with what he was here to say.