Chapter 58

I picked at my filet of flaky tilapia, but I was not hungry. I finished off a second glass of wine and poured another.

“If anyone should be guilty, it’s me,” I said.

“Why do you say that?”

I stabbed a wedge of Philip’s seasoned garlic potatoes with my fork, but I had lost my appetite. The utensil slipped from my hand and clattered against the fine china. “I should be at my father’s side right now.”

The melodic tunes of Bach drifted from speakers in the living room, Philip’s favorite idea of meditation.

I closed my eyes, still grasping Philip’s hand.

“Do you think it’s a good idea?” I asked. “To be at my father’s side right now?”

“Only you know what’s right,” he said, staring at me through the flickering white light of the candle. “It’s a delicate time.”

I didn’t have the strength to smile, so I nodded. Curt, firm.

Philip rose from his chair, bypassing Darth who was chewing on a steak bone. Philip enveloped me in the protection of his arms. “Tell me what I can do.”