Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69910 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)
Anyway, so yes. There was no random and fated knock on the door right as Dad was explaining himself, wrecking my world, and throwing a wrench into my heart, which I’m sure is never going to beat properly again. I thought things were over when my mom left. When Apollo left. But now he’s back, and my dad gave me a warning when I talked to him hours ago that I had better get packed.
It’s seven now, give or take a few minutes. Who needs time when the rest of one’s life is going to be a wrecked wasteland beyond one’s choosing anyway?
Dad let my once best friend in, and now we’re across the room from each other, staring each other down. I haven’t packed a single thing. I went and brooded in my room while Dad stewed out here until I heard the doorbell. I didn’t want to rush out there. I wanted to throw open my window, climb out, and run. But there were a few problems with that option.
One, my window doesn’t open all the way anymore, and I can’t shove myself through a three-inch gap.
Two, even if I could, I’d probably fall off the steep ass roof with the steep ass pitch, and I don’t need broken limbs adding to my misery.
Three, even if I made it safely to the ground without killing myself, choosing to leave would mean dooming my dad and his whole company. I wouldn’t have a job either. I’d have nowhere to go. I’d be homeless. And maybe my dad would be too.
My dad.
Yes, he made a mistake. Alright, so it was one hell of a mistake multiplied by one million and eighty-two, but he’s looked after me as a single dad. He’s tried to be a good man, and he’s taught me basically everything I know. If the roles were reversed, and it was him who had to give something up for me, he’d do it in a heartbeat. Even if I were the one who messed up, he’d pick up the pieces and find a way to go on.
Sitting in my room wasn’t going to help anything, so here I am.
And here Apollo is.
Taking up the whole freaking house with his real-life presence. If I had a dollar for every time I’ve thought about him over the years, my dad’s company never would have been in trouble in the first place. I hate that my face is getting hot. Cherry red. Glowing like an ancient stovetop element. I also hate that the whole room smells all good and spicy and manly, and it’s all this grown-up, adult man who replaced the fun, funny kid I used to know.
The kid I used to love with my whole freaking heart in that special, wonderful way only children can love.
Dad finally clears his throat. It’s been silent for six hundred years in here.
“Apollo. Thank you for coming. I think Patience has her bag packed. She’s ready.”
She’s ready? He doesn’t sound sure, which is the only thing that makes this better. That and the fact that I can see how my dad is trying not to tear up, and his voice is wavering. There are no right words in a situation like this. There’s no right anything.
“I guess this is where my happily never after starts,” I grunt. I literally grunt. Like a bear waking up on the wrong side of hibernation. Like a stick has just gotten jammed up my sphincter. That stick is staying. I might have to marry this jerk who thinks he can just take my life in a game of cards, but I don’t have to like it.
Apollo does the awkward throat-clearing thing, too, just like my dad. “Thank you, sir. If it’s possible, could you give us a few minutes alone to talk things out? We don’t have to leave right away. There’s no rush. I want to make this as easy for Patience as possible.”
There’s no end to how relieved Dad looks. It makes my heart pinch, which only happens because I’m a long way from being heartless, no matter how angry I am or what kind of a shock this is. I’m always going to love my dad. I’m not the kind of person who can hate anyone.
Not even my mom for leaving and never contacting me again. For forgetting I exist.
Not Apollo for abandoning me after he promised he would never do that.
It’s different with my parents, though. My dad raised me, and my mom…well, maybe she needed space. I’m not going to pretend to understand, and I’m not going to make excuses. She did give me life, and I’ll never hate her, no matter what decisions she’s made.
I’m just never going to soften toward this beast of a man. He has my ire for life.