Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87609 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Dad calmly takes a seat at the table. Like this is a dinner show or something. And honestly, it is giving off those vibes. Someone needs to start serving cocktails with smutty names or selling tees to commemorate the occasion.
Mom shushes me. “This is between me and Alistair. We’ll have the conversation without you if you can’t behave.”
Sweet baby Jesus.
There’s a definite flash of fear in Alistair’s eyes. I do not think less of him for it. My mother can be mildly terrifying, and I wouldn’t want to face her alone either. With her hands on her hips and her chin set sky-high, the woman is vexed as fuck. “Well? What do you say? Are you going to treat her better than that cheating butthead?”
“Yes, ma’am,” says Alistair with a ruler-straight spine. “I will definitely treat her better than that butthead. But as Lilah was trying to say, our engagement is—”
“I looked you up online. You’ve dated at least forty women that I could see. Some of them were very fancy.”
I put up my hand. “Ask me how many I’ve dated. Because I can assure you that thanks to online dating apps, I too have also been out with at least that many people. And some of the people I dated were also quite fancy, I’ll have you know. There was this one guy who said he was a poet and insisted on wearing a beret everywhere we went.”
Mom shushes me with more fervor than even a librarian could manage. It’s quite impressive.
“Dad, say something,” I plead. “Be the voice of reason here. Please.”
He shakes his head. “Hell no. Not even for all the money in the world. I’m staying out of it.”
“Coward.”
“What if you get tired of her?” asks my mother. “She’s not a countess or an Olympic cross-country skier or a famous Hollywood actress. She’s just herself and there’s nothing wrong with that. But you do get my point.”
“I don’t get your point. Please explain it to me, oh Mother dearest,” I say. “Ali, you never told me you dated an Olympic cross-country skier.”
“We dated for a few months about thirteen or so years ago. I would have mentioned it had it ever come up in conversation,” he says before turning to my mother with a pained expression. “Ma’am...um, no. I honestly never know what’s going to come out of Lilah’s mouth next. What she’s about to do. I don’t see being bored of her ever becoming an issue.”
Mom’s gaze narrows suspiciously. “She can be very stubborn too. Even difficult.”
“That’s true,” says my father.
“Oh, now you have something to say, do you?” I ask with much ire. “Turncoat.”
Dad mimes zipping his lips shut. As he should.
“Many others have disappointed and hurt her when they realized she was sometimes hard work.” Mom sighs. “They didn’t want to be with her badly enough to put in the effort. She didn’t mean enough to them.”
“You’re making me sound like a used car with a year’s worth of fast-food wrappers in the back,” I say. “Not a good look.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere, ma’am?” Alistair asks somewhat cagily.
Mom nods. “Do you want to be with her badly enough?”
“I believe so.”
“Credit where credit’s due,” says Dad. “He’s still standing here answering your questions.”
“Hmm,” answers Mom. “And are you so certain you can handle her, Alistair?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says with all due seriousness. “I believe I have already proven myself adept at handling her.”
I try not to snort and fail dismally.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” says Alistair disapprovingly.
“My bad. Sorry.”
But back to Mom. “She’s independent, but that doesn’t mean she won’t need help now and then. And she’s not always good at admitting when she’s wrong. Certainly not something she got from my side of the family. But goodness can she be stubborn.”
“Are you just going to let her get away with that?” I ask, outraged. “Father?”
Alistair continues to ignore me in favor of my mother. Dad just shrugs. Which goes to show you really can’t depend on anyone these days.
“I am aware that your daughter can upon occasion be wrong.” Alistair continues to stand at attention. “Very, very occasionally.”
“Name one time,” I challenge. “Go on. You can’t, can you?”
“But I will always have your daughter’s back,” he says. “Whatever may happen and whether she likes it or not.”
“That sounds like a threat.”
He glances at me. “It was meant as a promise.”
“Then there’s your use of the word always...” I say.
“What about it?” he asks. And he doesn’t back down.
Thus begins a staring competition of which I am not the winner. Not even a little. None of this is what I was expecting. “This isn’t what we came here for, Ali.”
“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” he asks, cocking his head.
I give him my very best What the fuck? look. The one I save for especially perplexing occasions. He remains undaunted and I do not understand.