The Girl in the Glass by Susan Meissner Read Free Book Online Page B

that.” He sipped his coffee.
    I said nothing else and waited for the bagels to pop up. The tiny kitchen filled with their fragrance. I heard my dad speak endearments to the cat as I spread the cream cheese and set the bagels on a plate. When I set them down on the table, he smiled at me.
    “Poppy-seed bagels.”
    I smiled back. “Yes.”
    “They’re not your favorite, are they? They’re your mom’s.”
    I shrugged. “I like them too.”
    He laughed and grabbed one. “It didn’t occur to me until after I paid for them that it was your mother who used to ask for them, not you.”
    I reached for the other bagel. “But they’re good. That’s why she likes them. And I was just happy you were coming. I didn’t care.”
    He took a bite and so did I. We chewed in silence. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, set the bagel down, and inhaled deeply. I could tell he did not want to begin with small talk, so I decided to make it easy for him.
    “So what is it, Dad? Is something up between you and Allison?”
    He looked up quickly, relief and surprise both playing across his face. “Not exactly.” His voice cracked a little; not like mine would if I was on the verge of crying, but more like a splinter in his resolve to keep things from getting too serious.
    “Are you … are you seeing someone else?” I asked.
    When he quickly shook his head, I asked if she was.
    “No. No, it’s nothing like that. It’s … I just … Look, I didn’t come down here to talk about Allison. I really just wanted to tell you I was sorry, Meggie.”
    He took a quick sip of coffee and then looked up at me. Regret etched the contours of his face, and I didn’t know why.
    “Sorry for what?”
    “For all of it.” He put the mug down. “Not just the divorce but everything that happened afterward. Actually everything that didn’t happen afterward. I know I wasn’t around much for you. I know I told you I’d take you to Florence. And I know you still want me to. I just could never get that kind of cash together. Allison’s got money. Allison’s always got money, but she’d never … I mean, I’ve already spent money she didn’t want me to spend, so there’s never been any way I could …”
    He broke off, and I immediately felt stupid for assuming the reason my father hadn’t taken me to Florence yet was that he found it easy to postpone. I’ve always known he has a hard time managing his money. I should’ve offered to go dutch long before this. Go dutch to Italy. We could each pay our own way. I actually could’ve saved up enough for us both to go by now if I had just thought to.
    “It’s okay, Dad. I can start saving up to pay my own way, and then you—”
    He raised his hand. “No. I promised Nonna I’d take you. She’d never forgive me if I let you pay your own way. That’s not happening.”
    I paused for a moment. “But she’s not here, Dad. And I just want us to go.”
    He locked his eyes on mine. “I know you do. I’m working on it. I want you to know that. And I’m thinking it might work out to go this summer.”
    My first thought was that I’d heard that before. There had been a few other times in the last decade he had said we were going. But it sounded different this time. He sounded a bit less sure, which actually made it sound more like he truly meant it.
    “Really?” I finally asked.
    “I think it might work.”
    It was an odd way to say “Yes, let’s take that trip to Florence!” but excitement began to build inside me nonetheless, and I struggled a bit to rein it in.
    “That’s … that’s great!” I said. “When? When do you want to go? July is better than August as far as crowds go. And June’s better than July. That’s what our books say.”
    “Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” His reply was distant and detached, as if he were only half-listening.
    “What? You think what?” I said.
    He nodded. “The earlier, the better. I’ll get back to you on it. Okay? Can you