The look on Dad's face is almost indescribable. Shock, definitely. But there’s something more. If my father were an emotional man, he’d be screaming. Or crying. Or both. He just stands there instead. “Wow,” he says finally. “Are you on something? Crack? Are you using, Sloane?” I roll my eyes and take a shaky breath. “I’m done talking about this.” “Mom,” he says, voice rising as he turns toward Grandma June, who’s still perched on the couch, legs crossed, wine glass in hand, eyes fixed on the television. “Are you not going to chip in here?” “And say what, Daniel?” she replies without looking away from the screen. “You’ve not seen her with that boyfriend of hers. She’s happy. He buys her designers, a lot of them. Let the kid make her own damn choice.” “And become you, right?” That makes her turn around. “Oh, you better watch that mouth of yours.” “You do realize that however you turned out has everything to do with you choosing the wrong man in the first place, right? He made yo
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