Surprise Me Maybe

06. Kid Before Daddy

We're having dinner at my parents' house today. My mom has been wanting to have a family night since Chris, Sophie's husband, arrived a couple of weeks ago. The original idea was to rent a villa on the hill for the weekend but we couldn't find one that matched our budget with a last-minute booking. Nonetheless, everyone is having fun because we are now a full team again.

Still, between our happy chat and laughter, the convo I had with Diandra remains heavy in my head. No matter how hard I try to justify my wrongdoing in kissing Ashton that night, the guilt keeps biting me in the ass. I thought she knew and hated me because of it. I would have deserved her resentment, and it would have made me feel better in a way.

I can't lie that I felt relieved when Ashton said he ended things with her, probably because of my stupid infatuation with him, but mostly, it was because of the drama Diandra made out of Chloe's existence in Ashton's life. If I think back carefully about what happened that night, Ashton never confirmed that he told her about the kiss, and I just assumed that he did. Maybe I was just too delighted that Diandra was eventually out of the picture and decided to leave the sore topic untouched. Yep, ignorance is bliss.

Last night, I had a chance to make it right once I learned about Diandra's cluelessness, but I chose to dismiss it because I didn't have the guts to reopen the closed box. Now I feel like I'm the cheater in this situation, especially every time the friendly glint and genuine admiration in her eyes flash in my mind. If she only knew what I did a couple of months ago. My impulsiveness is —again— like a boomerang making its way back to me at full speed and hitting me flat in the face.

The bark of laughter pulls me abruptly from my bubble of thoughts. My father's face has gone red from laughing hard, Mom is giggling behind the napkin she's holding to cover her mouth, while Sophie and her husband are cackling, throwing their heads backward. I glance at the kids who are smiling along with their eyes on the blueberry cheesecake in front of them.

"That was a good one!" Dad says between his chortles. "That girl deserved that smack."

"I wouldn't say she deserved it. She didn't know," Chris replies.

"That's what she gets for being impulsive and ignorant."

Wait, are they talking about me? I peer at every face at the table but none of them seems to pay attention to my existence in the room at the moment. And there is no way that they know what's going on inside my head.

"Okay, we should stop talking about the poor girl. This isn't the dinner-table topic, especially with kids sitting with us," my mom interjects while glancing at Diana and Chloe who are sitting on either side of me.

"Oh come on, this is a PG-thirteen scene," my dad argues.

"And they are not thirteen yet, darling."

"Oh."

Something I've learned from the very beginning. I'm my father's child when it comes to spontaneity and stupidity. How does my mom put up with him for a good thirty-five years of marriage? Only heaven knows.

Sophie and I are on cleaning duty tonight. After everyone finishes their dessert, Mom and the girls help bring the dirty dishes to the kitchen before heading straight to the living room, joining Dad and Chris. If my mom wasn't against the idea of having a dishwasher —because of the go-green reasons or whatever, cleaning up would have been ten times faster. But alas, here we are, stuck behind the sink, battling with plates, bowls, cutlery, and soap.

"You've been awfully quiet tonight. Is there something wrong?" asks Sophie. She stands next to me, drying up the dishes while I'm doing the cleansing.

I bite my inner cheek, weighing my answer. "Not entirely wrong. I'm not sure how to put it."