So I knew what I had to do. Maybe I had known from the beginning. Who knows? Either way, it was becoming completely clear that I had to help Ashley get her daughter—my niece—back in her arms. I watched Glen carefully as we all sat around the breakfast table. The room was vibrating with the laughter and yelling that you’d only find amusing coming from your own family and even then you’re praying for a moment of silence.

He was good with Madeline. You could tell how much he loved her just by watching the way he would look at her. All of a sudden he would morph into more than my asshole brother.

He was a father.

But he was also a father who was lying to keep his daughter away from a mother who wanted to see her/touch her/love her more than anything. And there’s no way I could stand by with the knowledge that I had and let it happen. I owed it to Ashley. But most of all, I owed it to Madeline.

“Spencer, you’re mighty quiet over there,” my dad said, smiling warmly at me from across the table.

“I was just thinking. I’m fine.”

“Thinking about chicks?” Glen asked, helping himself to more food.

“Glen!” my mother said sharply before turning to me apologetically, “Spencer, tell us. Have you been dating anyone…special?”

I considered lying, but decided against it, “Actually, yes.”

“Really?” my father said, sounding surprised.

I suppose he didn’t think a whore could balance a relationship and the job. It’s not easy, Dad, but it happens.

“Is she hot?” Glen asked between bites.

I nodded.

“When do we get to meet her?” my mom asked excitedly.

“Um…soon. I promise.”

“Does that mean you’ll be coming around more?” Clay asked—always the preferable sibling, “We miss you.”

I could feel a rebel tear making its way down my face, “I miss you guys too. And yeah, I can try, you know? To come around more…if you’re ok with that.”

“Of course we are. You’re always welcome, Spence. I’ve told you before,” my dad said, quietly. He and I shared a knowing glance before he quickly turned away.

After breakfast I offered to help my dad stack the dish washer so we could talk. If I was seriously going to try reclaiming my family, it was mandatory that I clear the air with my father. We had been close before. I wanted to believe it could happen again, despite both of our secrets.

“Dad,” I said, after several moments of awkward silence.