Say You Still Love Me by K.A. Tucker

Author:K.A. Tucker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

“I’m leaving for Tokyo on Tuesday for ten days. If you need anything while I’m gone, it’s best you call your mother.”

“Do you think you guys will be able to work things out?” I ask, as we turn into Wawa’s driveway, the Lincoln’s wipers swishing back and forth rhythmically.

“So, you are aware of what’s going on.” Dad’s hard, assessing gaze skims over the pavilion and outbuildings, dim in the evening’s gloominess, toward the small group of counselors in the field, kicking a soccer ball around, despite the drizzle.

I roll my eyes. “I am living in the same house, Dad. And I’m not six years old.”

He sighs. “She’ll come around.”

“Do you really think so?” I hesitate. “After what you did?”

His jaw tenses and I brace myself for a tongue-lashing. “No marriage is easy, Piper, and I am far from the first man to make a mistake. But this is not a topic I’m going to discuss with my daughter.” He adds in a more conciliatory tone, “She seems to be in better spirits since getting away from the city. She’s been out at the club every day, socializing. And I hear she’s on the tennis courts a lot. I think this time to herself will be helpful. It’ll give her some perspective. Remind her how good we have it. How my one mistake is not worth throwing the life we built together away.”

“I hope so.”

He reaches over to pat my knee just as the SUV eases to a stop next to Kyle’s Pinto. Just the sight of it—knowing Kyle is here—makes my heart skip.

“This was a nice surprise, Dad.” And it was, despite my reluctance at the beginning. I wrap my arms around his neck, inhaling his comforting cologne one more time—a scent that he’s worn for as long as I can remember, it’s now his signature. I wave the car catalogue in the air. “Should I call Greta with my choices?”

“Email her if you can, so it’s all written down. First thing Monday morning.”

I reach for the handle.

“Before you go, Piper . . .” His steely gaze shifts to Kyle’s car. “I don’t want you with that boy anymore.”

It takes me a moment to process his words, to be sure I heard them correctly. “What?”

“I agreed with your mother that you should experience a summer in a . . . modest environment, so you can see how others live and appreciate the privilege you’ve been afforded. Mainly so you don’t end up like your brother down the road, having this sudden crisis of conscience and throwing your life away.” He frowns. “But I won’t have my daughter getting mixed up with a boy like that.”

“You don’t even know him!”

“I know what I don’t approve of. And the boys I’d consider suitable for you wouldn’t be pawing you in public like that. Against a car that belongs in a junkyard, no less.”

“He wasn’t . . . That was a joke.” I feel my cheeks flush, from a combination of anger and embarrassment.

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