Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
I have about a hundred and twelve more beefs with my dad and a whole hairy hill of bones to pick. But his comment leaves me sputtering. “I … It was … I’ve …”
“Aren’t you glad you came? I was disheartened at first, but my dear friend Nadine assured me you needed your space to explore whatever it is young men your age explore.”
“Why—Why are you talking to me like your freshly-pubescent teenager? I’m twenty-four.”
“I said it’s a damn shame. Wanted you by my side this week to represent our family and Nadine’s restaurant—and I guess she had other plans.” He chuckles heartily, then gives me fierce eyes. “You liked the handsome boy, didn’t you? Speak up.”
I’m left with my mouth hanging open. I sigh in defeat. “Well, I wasn’t expecting the town’s vet tech, for one. We’re not exactly a personality match, either. In fact, we can’t be more opposite.”
“Good. You can do with someone who’s less … you.”
“I don’t know how to take that.”
“Hmm.” My father fiddles with his glasses in hand. “Come to think of it, Nadine didn’t mention anything about this Cole fellow working at the veterinary clinic.”
My heart drops. Oops.
“Right.” I clear my throat and stiffen up. “Sorry. I was talking about … about someone else. You meant Cole. Misunderstood.”
He squints at me. “Wait a minute. You thought I was talking about—what’s his name—Samuel …?”
I cross my arms and stare out the window. “It’s been a long day, Dad, I can’t keep it all straight.”
“Isn’t that his name? The guy you went to town with?”
“Yes. Samuel.”
I can see my dad placing Samuel on the imaginary scale in his mind that judges everything—from each bite of food he tastes to every new face he meets. “Nice fellow. Sturdy. Handy. He did a ton of the decorations, including that big Christmas tree downstairs you almost tore down.”
Word got around. I eye him. “Please, Dad. I really don’t want to stay in Jimmy’s old room. It probably smells like gym socks.”
“Bathroom is right next to your room. Take a shower. You can sleep in as long as you want tomorrow. Rehearsal dinner isn’t ‘til the next day, then the wedding’s the day after that. That day will be long, and I will need your help, regardless of what Nadine says.” He puts his glasses back on and resumes typing. “Goodnight, son.”
It’s no use. My dad won’t budge. I know him too well.
Might as well accept my sentence.
I trudge across the second floor landing to the room in which I’ll be staying. After one poking through of my bag, it’s clear my father knows me too well; he packed all my favorite clothes, even ones I might not have considered bringing myself. I grimace at one particularly ugly Christmas sweater he packed for me, but I won’t complain on account of all the other choices he got right.
The shower is annoyingly perfect. It’s not that the bathroom is grand or enormous, but the showerhead is impressive and the water pressure makes my skin feel massaged at every angle. When I step out, I feel brand new.
Then I see my awkward face in the mirror.
I frown at myself, taken aback.
Have I lost weight? Did the stress of today get to me? It shows all over.
I’ll give the stress a name: Samuel Bunny Buckley.
It sure wasn’t Cole Harding, who was a total dream to spend the evening with. We didn’t do all that much beyond talking about a dozen things. Now and then, the conversation lulled, but we seemed at peace in each other’s quiet company. I kept remarking to myself how perfectly his clothes fit him, as if he was stitched right into them by some Southern demigod of fashion. His hair was obviously professionally styled at a salon. I should’ve thought to ask him where he got it done; I may need such a hookup for the big day if I want to look my best.
Not that I’m trying to look my best for anyone in particular.
I didn’t see Samuel for the rest of the night. I guess he got lost in the crowds somewhere, or else he went home.
It’s not my fault, right? I didn’t ruin his night and send him off like an unwanted, abandoned dog?
Put that way, I feel like such a terrible person. Maybe that’s who’s staring back at me in the mirror right now.
Maybe that’s what’s wrong with my face.
After putting on my favorite pair of red flannel pajamas, I find my mouth too dry and decide to head down for a glass of water. I consider giving my dad a more polite goodnight than I left him with earlier, but his door is closed, so I assume he’s gone to bed already. I head down the stairs. The house is empty and dark, save for a few strands of colorful lights dangling on the porch, shining inside through the windows. It sets a sweet, merry scene as I pad my way toward the kitchen, for a moment feeling happy.