Theo is painfully out of reach, locked in a study and protected by his staff. I’m out here, in the cold, with nothing but my grief and my pain to keep me warm.
I turn around, trudging through the hallways toward the garages. Once there, I ask one of the drivers to take me to my parents’ house.
On the way, I text my sisters, knowing that they’re busy with their own lives and they probably won’t have time for me, either. No one knows I came back. I intended to surprise my family once Theo and I had made preparations.
The result? I’m alone.
As usual.
Yes, I’m wallowing. Allow me that luxury, at least.
When I get to my parents’ house, I slip through the front door and make my way up the stairs and into my old bedroom. It’s been just over a month since I was here last, and as soon as I cross the threshold, I feel my body start to relax. I collapse onto my bed and curl up in a ball, falling asleep immediately.
I wake up to the weight of a heavy palm on my shoulder. My father brushes a strand of hair off my face when I open my eyes, smiling softly at me.
“I didn’t know you were back.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after seven o’clock in the evening.”
I’ve been asleep for over three hours. I groan, pulling myself up to sit against my headboard. I rub my eyes, yawning. “I didn’t hear anyone when I came in.”
My father frowns, staring into my eyes. “Cara, why aren’t you in New York? I thought your classes started a couple of days ago.”
My lower lip trembles. My eyes mist.
I won’t be able to contain the tears too long, but where do I start? How can I tell my father about everything that’s happened?
I’d have to tell him about the baby. About how Theo and I thought we were pretending, until it all became too real. How I realized I didn’t want to be at Juilliard at all—but now that I’m gone, I don’t know where I’m supposed to be.
In a few short weeks, my whole identity became wrapped up in being a mother. I could feel the life growing inside me. I knew that this was what I was meant to do.
Now?
I feel like I was kidding myself. My body rebelled against me. I failed.
In the process, I got my heart broken and I threw away my chance to be at Juilliard. I successfully ruined every good thing that ever happened to me.
How wonderful. Inspiring. I should write a self-help book. I’m sure my father would approve.
My father swings his legs onto the bed and leans against the headboard beside me. We sit in silence for a few moments until he takes a deep breath.
“My parents didn’t want me to be a swimmer.”
I turn to look at him. I never met my grandparents, and Dad never really spoke about them much. “No?” I ask, holding back my tears.
My father shakes his head, scoffing. “No. They wanted me to be a doctor, but I don’t know my ass from my elbow. I kept failing my biology classes because I was focusing all my time and energy at the pool. It wasn’t until I qualified for the Olympics that they stopped complaining and started acknowledging that I had talent.”
I frown. My father has always been a swimmer. Ever since I’ve known him, he’s been a swimmer. Not just ‘a’ swimmer. The swimmer. He’s the face of swimming in Argyle. It’s his whole life. His business. His identity.
My father lets out a sigh, shaking his head. “When I saw that letter from Juilliard, I knew I was doing the same thing to you that my parents had done to me. I was pushing you toward what I wanted you to do, not what you wanted. As soon as I saw that you’d applied to music school, I knew I had to let you go.”
My bottom lip trembles, and I can’t speak. My throat is too tight.
“Why are you here, Cara?” my father asks gently, nudging me with his huge shoulder. “Why aren’t you chasing your dreams?”
I’m afraid to inhale too deeply, because it might turn into a sob. I just take a shaky, shallow breath and then shrug. “Things changed, and I realized I didn’t want to be studying there. I don’t know what I want now.”