Ryan’s phone kept vibrating in his hand.
Iris stood beside the kitchen table, still wearing her prom dress, staring at the sealed envelope as though it might explode if anyone touched it.
Ryan turned the screen toward me for less than a second.
The name was enough.
Daniel Mercer.
I hadn’t seen those words together in eighteen years.
I grabbed the back of a chair to steady myself.
Ryan noticed.
Of course he noticed.
“So you do know him,” he said.
Iris looked from Ryan to me.
“Know who?”
Ryan lowered the phone.
I wanted to tell him not to answer.
I wanted to send him home, lock the door, tear up the envelope and somehow return the night to the moment when Iris had come downstairs laughing in her dress.
But secrets don’t move backward.
They only wait until the cost of keeping them becomes greater than the cost of telling them.
“Daniel Mercer,” I said.
Iris frowned.
“Who’s Daniel Mercer?”
Ryan’s eyes stayed on me.
“My dad.”
The room went completely still.
Iris gave a small, confused laugh.
“Okay.
Why would Mom know your dad?”
Neither of us answered quickly enough.
Her smile disappeared.
“Mom?”
Ryan’s phone stopped ringing.
A second later, a message arrived.
Ryan read it and swallowed.
“He’s outside.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“My dad.
He drove here.”
Iris took a step back from both of us.
“Can somebody please explain what is happening?”
I looked through the front window.
A dark sedan had stopped at the curb.
For eighteen years, Daniel Mercer had existed in my life as memory, regret and a name I refused to speak.
Now his headlights were shining through my curtains.
Iris followed my gaze.
“Is that him?”
I nodded.
She looked at me in disbelief.
“Ryan’s father?”
“Yes.”
“And you know him?”
“Yes.”
Her voice changed.
“How?”
I pulled out a chair but couldn’t make myself sit.
Ryan slowly removed his hand from the envelope.
“Tell her,” he said.
