Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
"You're one to talk." I look her up and down, and she would make a potato sack look sexy.
I take two steps in when I see Cooper and Erika’s little girl come running for me. "Auntie Fran!" Felicia jumps, and I catch her in my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck. "Did you bring my lipstick?"
I kiss her neck. "Um, of course I did, silly." I put her down and open my black Chanel bag to take out the clear lip gloss. "I got one for your sister, too."
"Mia!" Felicia yells, making everyone turn around, and all eyes land on us. "Auntie Fran brought lipstick." I look around and spot my mother and father standing together. I smile at them and then look back down when Mia comes over. I thought I was ready to see him, but I’m not.
"Here." I look over at Erika and smile when she hands me a glass of whiskey. Erika is Cooper’s wife, the two of them were best friends for the longest time and finally woke up and figured out they loved each other. "Thought you might need this." She's also one of my closest friends and, besides my sister, the only one I confided in about the job in Dallas before everyone else.
"Thank you," I say, taking a little sip of the amber liquid. The burning starts as soon as it touches my tongue and works its way down to my stomach. "I guess I should go over and say hello." I blink away the stinging.
"Want me to come with you?" she asks. "Or I can get the baby, and you can hold him as a shield."
"I think I’d prefer talking to that Matthew instead of the other one." I mention my nephew, who is named after my father. When my brother said his name, we all groaned. There are so many double names in this family, and it’s hard to keep up.
"Well, he said fuck this shit yesterday," Erika says, and my eyes go big. "When I said it was time for bed."
"That’s always fun." I laugh at her. "Okay, here I go." I take a deep breath and make my way to my parents. It’s like the parting of the sea when I start walking toward them. Everyone is chatting away, but I can feel eyes on us, and I hate it. Usually, it’s light and upbeat, but you can cut the tension with a knife right now. My mother is beside my father and whatever she is saying to him is between clenched teeth. My father just looks at her like he always does. There is no mistake as to how he feels about her. From the stories he’s always telling us, he took one look at her, and he was toast.
"Hey," I say awkwardly when I get close enough. My mother looks up at me, and I do the only thing I can. I avoid looking at my father just like I did when I was seventeen and crashed his three-day-old car when I drove it into the garage and then into the wall. I bend to give my mother a hug, and I can hear her sniffling.
"You look beautiful," she whispers in my ear. I’m trying really hard to keep it together in front of her. I want to say that the only relationship affected is the one with my father, but that is a lie. My mother and I have been dancing around the subject since the big fight at their house. She still calls me every day, but it feels like a massive elephant is in the room, and no one is mentioning it.
She lets go of me, and I swallow down the lump and finally look over at my father. "Hey, Dad." I lean in for a side hug, making my neck burn with nerves. This is the most awkward hug in the history of all hugs.
"Hi." He puts one of his hands on my shoulder and pats it.
"Matthew fucking Grant," my mother says. I look over at her because her tone is not one I’ve ever heard before, and trust me, I’ve heard them all. I was the wild child who used to make sure I could see just how much I could get away with. "So help me God, if you don’t make this better." She shakes her head, then looks at me. "The two of you are the same person." She looks at me and then my father. "It’s been a month. It’s long enough.
"You, too." She points at me, and I look at her, shocked.
"Me?" I point at myself. "I’m not the one avoiding the other one." I take a sip of my whiskey. "It’s fine." I avoid looking back at my father because the hurt that we can’t joke hits me right away. "Maybe one day he’ll forgive me for following my dreams," I mumble and then turn when I hear my aunt Allison calling my name. I walk away from them, ignoring the fact I want to curl into a ball and cry.