Chapter 3

After I got home from the lawyer's office, I saw the empty gift box on the coffee table.

Oh god, the dress.

I'd forgotten completely. Steven had told me to replace it or get out of the house.

I checked my purse, eighty-three dollars. That was all I had.

I'll go buy it first thing tomorrow morning, before Steven wakes up. Maybe if I fix this, he won't be angry again.

I left the house before sunrise. The bus ride to the shopping district felt endless.

"Excuse me," I said to the saleswoman. "I need that dress. The blue slip dress. Do you have another one?"

She smiled, then her face changed. "I'm so sorry. That's a limited edition piece. We only received two in the entire city. The last one was purchased about an hour ago."

My chest tightened. "Are you sure? Maybe something similar?"

She gestured around the store. I looked at the price tags for the first time. Eight hundred dollars. Twelve hundred. Fifteen hundred.

"Our most affordable items start at around $800," she said. "Would you like me to show you—"

"No. Thank you."

I left the store feeling embarrassed, I couldn't afford a single thing in there.

I headed home, feeling uneasy.

When I got home, I heard voices from the dining room.

I pushed open the door.

Steven at the head of the table. Liliana beside him. Terry across from them. Roy in his high chair, sitting still for once.

And there on the table was the dress. Another one.

"Liliana, I'm so sorry about yesterday," Steven said. He held up the box. "This is to make up for it. Happy birthday."

Liliana's face lit up. "Steven! You didn't have to—oh, it's perfect! This is exactly what I wanted!"

"Dad really knows how to treat Aunt Lily right," Terry said.

I stood in the doorway.

He bought the last one too. The one the saleswoman said was sold an hour before I got there. He bought her two dresses.

I couldn't remember the last time he'd remembered my birthday.

Steven looked up. "You're back."

I couldn't speak.

"Ainsley!" Liliana's voice was bright. "Perfect timing. Would you mind making me some coffee? You know how I like it. You're the only one who makes it just right."

I looked at her.

"I'm a little tired—"

"You can't even make coffee now?" Steven slammed his hand on the table. "This is the only thing you're good for! Go make the damn coffee!"

My legs moved on their own into the kitchen.

When I walked back with the cup, Liliana was holding up the dress.

"Here," I said quietly.

She turned. "Thank you so—"

Her foot shot out.

I didn't see it coming. The cup flew from my hands. Hot coffee arced through the air.

It splashed across the gift box. Soaked into the blue fabric. Spread across the table.

"My dress!" Liliana shrieked.

Steven's hand was in my hair. He yanked me up and slammed my head against the table corner.

The impact left me dazed. Sharp pain shot through my head, and for a moment everything went white.

"You did that on purpose!" he screamed. "Didn't you?!"

"No! I didn't...she tripped me..."

"Shut up!" He slammed my head down again. I tasted blood. "Get on your knees!"

I collapsed. Coffee soaked through my jeans. My head was ringing.

"Lick it up," Steven said. "Lick up every drop."

"Steven, please—"

"Now!"

Terry laughed. "Mom, you're pathetic. You're so jealous you can't even handle someone else getting a birthday present. You don't deserve to be my mother."

Liliana crouched down beside me. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "You see now? Nobody here needs you. You're just taking up space."

I knelt on the floor, unable to get up. My heart felt like it'd been stabbed through. But they didn't even seem to notice.

Then they left, off to celebrate Liliana's birthday, I stayed on the floor.

Then I got up. Cleaned the coffee with a rag. Wiped down every surface. Put the ruined dress in a bag for the dry cleaner.

That afternoon, I locked myself in the bedroom. My hands were shaking as I pulled out my phone and found the number.

My dad.

I hadn't called it in twenty-five years.

What if he doesn't answer? What if he's still angry?

I pressed call.

"Hello?"

His voice.

"Dad," I whispered. "It's me. It's Ainsley."

Long, heavy silence.

"Ainsley." His voice cracked. "My daughter."

Everything broke. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I was wrong about everything. Can I—" The words stuck. "Can I come home?"

"Yeah, you never stopped being my daughter," he said quietly. "Be patient. I'll arrange everything."

"Thank you. Thank you, Dad."

......

The next afternoon, the doorbell rang.

I opened it. A delivery man held a large package.

"Delivery for Thompson residence," he said.

"We didn't order anything—"

"It's addressed here. Sign, please."

I signed and carried the box inside. The label said Steven Thompson.

I opened it.

Inside were four airplane tickets. First class. To Reykjavik, Iceland.

My hands started shaking.

Iceland.

My heart was pounding. This was the honeymoon he'd promised twenty-five years ago. The wedding photos he'd said we'd take. The Northern Lights I'd dreamed about since I was a little girl.

He's taking all of us. Me, him, Terry, Roy. A family trip.

Tears burned in my eyes.

Maybe he does still love me. Maybe yesterday was just stress, and this is his real apology.

The front door opened downstairs.

"Steven!" I ran out, "I got it! The package came! Is this...is this your way of saying you're sorry?"