It’s about a month after I went to Nathan’s basketball game and I’m in the kitchen cutting up fruit for breakfast when my dad makes the announcement. “Me and Missy are engaged,” he says casually, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. My hand slips and the knife that I’m holding slides down and into my skin. A pool of blood slowly starts to spill out of my finger. I’m numb to the pain of it and in too much shock to move. My dad jumps up and wraps it in a dishtowel. “God, Victoria! Watch what you’re doing,” he says taking the towel away to examine the damage to my finger. “It doesn’t look too deep.” I pull my hand away from him. “You’re getting married?” He nods and then walks over to the table to pick up his briefcase. “Yes, and I need you to do your best to clear out the spare room while I’m at the office today. They’re moving in tomorrow.” I feel my heart start to beat so fast in my chest that I think I might be having a heart attack.
