“Because Nicki is hers. You’re mine. She knows that. She’s jealous. Why do you think she needed another baby? She wanted a child of her own.”
I couldn’t believe he said it out loud. Yes, we’d talked about it—joked about it—but he never just said it. Just like that. With all the seriousness of a man making confession before he went to the grave.
“I’m just being truthful,” Dad went on. “Now, I know she has her faults. I know you both have had a rough go of it, but she’s still your mother. And she loves you and wants what’s best for you.”
“And I guess she thinks that’s Reece?” I asked. “After knowing him five minutes?”
“She sees that he makes you happy. And that’s what matters to her.”
I grunted.
“Don’t do that,” Dad said, picking up his tweezers.
“Stop being so solemn tonight, Dad!”
“Stop being so negative,” he replied.
I huffed. “Fine. But it hurts my feelings that they’re so worried I’ll screw up this relationship. Like I’m some loser who can’t keep a man. Like I need my mom and sister to lie about my personality so I look more appealing. You know, I told Reece about my OCD.”
“You did?”
“Yes.”
“And how’d that go?”
“He’s cool with it.”
Dad was silent for a moment. “Has he seen the bad?” he asked softly.
“No,” I admitted. “Should I stage a trial run?”
Dad cocked his head. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea, actually. Should have done that with your mother.”
I snorted.
“I’m glad you were honest with him,” Dad said. “I think that’ll help immensely. And you shouldn’t be ashamed of your condition anyway. It’s a part of you that you’ll have to manage for the rest of your life. Lying about it will get you nowhere in a relationship. Should have considered that when I dated your mom.”
“Are things bad?” I asked suddenly.
“Things are what they are,” Dad replied.
I don’t know why I asked. I hated hearing about the current state of my parents’ marriage. It pissed me off. I know I’m biased when it comes to Dad, but I can’t help feeling like Mom constantly punishes him for a condition he can’t cure. Manage? Yes. Cure? No. And I know Dad works his ass off to be better.
“How are your urges?”
I realized I hadn’t asked Dad this in a while. I was so consumed with my new relationship that I forgot all about my buddy—my battle buddy.
“Eh.”
“Dad . . .”
“I drove around the neighborhood twice yesterday,” he confessed.
“After coming back from the grocery store?” I asked.
He shrugged then nodded.
“Dad, what did Dr. Gordon tell you about that?”
Dad sighed. “Focus on the groceries and what needs to go in the freezer.”
“Exactly.”
“But I didn’t buy anything that needed to go in the freezer.”
“That’s not the point,” I said. “You’re stronger than your compulsions, Dad.”
“It’s just driving around the neighborhood a few times.”
“It’s doing something because you think you have to. You don’t have to, Dad.”
He grunted.
“All right, all right. I’ll get off your case. And anyway, I turned the knobs on my stove the other day just because I hadn’t done it in a while, and it felt so fucking good.”
“Bailey? Language.”
I picked up Dad’s glue bottle and twisted the cap.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
***
“May I help you with the dishes?” Reece asked.
Georgie shook her head. “Absolutely not. You’re a guest.”
Reece smiled and sat down at the kitchen island.
“Bailey and her father disappear?” Georgie asked, plunging her hands in the soapy dishwater.
“She said she’d be back in a second,” Reece replied.
Georgie snorted. “If she went in that back bedroom where the model boat is, she won’t.”
“Model boat?”
“My husband’s been working on this model boat for, let’s see, a century? Bailey likes to go back there and help him.”
“That’s cool,” Reece replied.
Georgie said nothing. Reece thought it was the perfect opportunity to ask for much-needed advice. Sure, Bailey already filled him in on several details about OCD, but he needed the advice of someone who didn’t suffer from it. He needed the advice of someone who lived with an OCD patient. Wait. Patient? Do you call them patients?
“Georgie,” Reece began, studying the back of her head. Her hair was dark like Bailey’s. Long and dark and pulled into a messy chignon at the nape of her neck.
“Hmm?” she replied.
“I’d like to talk to you about something. Get your advice, perhaps?”
“Shoot.”
“Bailey’s already told me a lot about her condition—”
“What condition?”
“Her OCD,” Reece explained. He watched Georgie tense at the sink. She held up a plate with the dishcloth frozen to its outer edge.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” Reece was slightly confused. “And she’s given me some great advice on how to deal with her when she’s anxious and feeling like she has to give in to an urge, but I’d really like to hear about it from you. I think your advice could be really useful, too.”
“Well, what advice can I give you?” Georgie asked. “Bailey doesn’t live with me anymore. I could only tell you about how she was as a child, and I’m sure that’s changed.”
“No no, not Bailey. I mean Sam. Bailey told me your husband suffers from it, too. I thought maybe you could give me tips on how to deal. You know, as a person on the other side.”
Georgie placed the plate carefully in the sink and turned around slowly.
“She sure is making a big deal about this, isn’t she?” Georgie asked. She tried for a smile. It spread like sickly sweet icing across her face, and Reece thought he’d said something very wrong.
“Well . . . she just wants me to understand, I guess.”
Georgie wiped her hands with a tea towel, then tossed it over her shoulder.
“It’s not a big deal,” she said.
Reece knew it was a lie. Why was she lying to him?
“Really? Because Bailey told me it can get rough at times. When her anxiety explodes and she just becomes consumed with her compulsions. I mean, how do I deal with that? How do you deal with it?”