“Kitty, don’t act like you never cry.”
“I cry over important things.”
“You cried the other night because Daddy wouldn’t let you stay up to watch TV!”
“Yes, well, that was important to me.”
I sniffle. “I don’t know why I’m arguing over this stuff with you.” She’s too little to understand.
Part of me hopes she never does. It was better when I didn’t.
That night, Daddy and I are doing the dishes when he clears his throat and says, “So Kitty told me
about the big breakup. How are you holding up?”
I rinse off a glass and set it in the dishwasher. “Kitty has such a big mouth. I was going to tell you
about it later.” Maybe deep down I was hoping I wouldn’t have to.
“Do you want to talk about it? I can make some Night-Night tea. Not as good as Mommy’s, but
still.”
“Maybe later,” I say, just to be kind. His version of Night-Night tea isn’t the best.
He puts his arm around my shoulders. “It’ll get easier, I promise. Peter Kavinsky isn’t the only boy
in the world.”
Sighing, I say, “I just don’t want to hurt like this ever again.”
“There’s no way to protect yourself against heartbreak, Lara Jean. That’s just a part of life.” He
kisses me on the top of my head. “Go upstairs and rest. I’ll finish up here.”
“Thanks, Daddy.” I leave him alone in the kitchen, humming to himself as he dries a pan with a
dishcloth.
My dad said Peter isn’t the only boy in the world. I know this is true, of course it’s true. But look
at Daddy. My mom was the only girl in the world for him. If she wasn’t, he’d have found somebody
new by now. Maybe he’s been trying to protect himself from heartbreak too. Maybe we’re more alike
than I ever realized.