Page 19 of Homewrecker

“A romantic partner is not a disciplinary program.”

Mama pinched the bridge of her nose. “Can we please just eat?”

“I been ready to eat.” Daddy lifted his burnt muffin and Klair just stared at it.

“That shit could break a window.”

I sat and mama took the chair across from me. Daddy sat at the head and Klair dropped down into the seat beside. It was how I spent my current Saturday mornings, sitting at a table I’d spent my childhood watching my mother cry over.

The strangest part was that there had been so much love in that house. That’s what people never understood about dysfunctional families. It didn’t have to be miserable every day for something to damage you.

My daddy coached our sports teams. He came to every recital, taught me to drive, sat in the front row when I graduated, and even gave me the money for my first office without making me pay a dime back.

He loved my mother, and I believed that. I also believed he’d broken her heart more times than I could count. Both things were true and that was probably where my problems started. I’d learned early that love and betrayal could live in the same house, sleep in the same bed, raise the same children, and sit at the same dinner table and pass a fucking bowl of grits around to share.

Daddy spooned some grits on his plate. “I’m just saying, Blair, people cheat every day.”

The fork stopped halfway to my mouth. Mama closed her eyes, and Klair leaned back in her chair.

“Here we fucking go.”

“What?” Daddy asked. “They do.”

I set my fork down. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“No. I’m saying you’re acting like you committed murder.”

“I slept with someone’s husband for three years.”

“And?”

Mama’s head snapped toward him. “Danny.”

“What?”

Klair stared at him. “You might actually be the worst person to give advice on this particular subject.”

“I’m her father.”

“You’re also the LeBron James of infidelity.”

I choked, and Mama slapped the table.

“Klair!”

I covered my face and Mama fought a smile. She loved when we called him out on his bullshit.

“See? That’s your problem,” he told Klair. “Everything is a joke to you.”

“If I took this family seriously, I’d need Blair’s therapist.”

“Leave my therapist out of this.”

Daddy looked back at me. “I’m not saying what you did was right. I’m just saying it’s done.”

“It doesn’t feel done.”

“Why?”