Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
My jaw opens as wide as a python’s before a meal.
The silence at the table drags on for several seconds, until Mom finally speaks. “Honey, is it serious with that boy?” she asks.
“No,” I mumble. “But I wish it was.”
Mom blinks.
Dad visibly swallows.
I search for the right words, but luckily the cute waiter returns. He puts a mug of coffee down in front of me. “Thank you,” I say with genuine gratitude. Because I really need something to do with my hands.
“Keat,” my mother says, covering his hand. “Talk to us.”
“What do you want me to say?” I awkwardly wrap my hands around the mug. “That I’m gay? Because…yeah. I think I am.”
Dad pounces on the I think part. “So you’re not sure?”
I take a breath. Then I release it in a fast burst. “No, I am sure,” I admit. “I guess I was trying to soften it up for you guys. But I’m certain about this. My relationship with—” I stop, rephrasing. “Being in a relationship with a guy gave me all the answers I didn’t even know I was searching for.”
Mom nods slowly. “Annika…?” She lets the question hang, but I’m not entirely sure what she’s asking.
“Annika didn’t know,” I say with a shrug. “I actually haven’t even told her yet. But if you’re worried that I was, I dunno, using her, or leading her on…I wasn’t.” My tone is firm, because it’s the total truth. “I loved her, and our relationship was real to me. But there was always something…missing, I guess. Something that didn’t feel entirely right.”
This time Dad is the one nodding. “It always felt very platonic to us,” he says grudgingly.
I eye him in surprise. “Seriously? All you did was talk about how much you wanted us to get married.”
He shrugs. “Because she’s a wonderful girl, and she’ll make a wonderful wife to some lucky man. But if we’re all being honest right now, your mother and I did notice that your relationship seemed to lack passion.”
Mom sighs. “We did notice.”
I have to smile. “And you couldn’t have filled me in on that?”
They both break into nervous laughter.
I take a gulp of coffee, then set down the mug again. “I can’t believe how cool you’re being about all this.”
Dad arches a brow. “Did you think we’d disown you?” he says dryly. “Who do I look like, your uncle Chris?”
Mom is quick to come to her brother’s defense. “Christopher didn’t disown Madeline! He just froze her trust fund until she completed her rehab program.”
My cousin Maddie broke her back a few years ago and got hooked on painkillers. Uncle Chris wasn’t thrilled. Fortunately, she’s clean now.
I guess I won’t point out that my father just compared my sexuality to a drug addiction. You have to pick your battles. “So you’re not disowning me,” I tease.
Dad rolls his eyes. “For your sexual orientation, no, Keaton. For your betrayal? I’m still considering it.”
“Keat!” Mom chides, lightly swatting his shoulder.
“What if you came to work for the finance department after this expedition docks?” he suggests hopefully.
Somehow I knew he’d ask this. “I’m back in mid-July,” I admit. “But I don’t want the internship. I just don’t want it. And we both know I don’t deserve it. But I know someone who does.”
“You want me to hire Bailey?” He hands the page back to me. “I am pretty sure they already made him an offer.”
“Really?” This is a detail I hadn’t heard. “He turned it down?”
“I’ll ask Bo.” Dad pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen.
“Is this trip dangerous?” Mom asks. She’s taking a turn with my Chile letter now.
“Not really,” I hedge. “It’s on a research boat in the ocean. But we’re not diving with sharks, Mom. We’d be looking for a new species of whale.”
“A new species?” She makes a skeptical face.
“I know, right? There’s a strange kind of killer whale that people have reported once in a while over fifty years. But it’s never been filmed or tagged. This expedition aims to prove that it exists.”
“How is that more important than curing diabetes?” my father asks.
“I never said it was. But my interests are my interests. And nobody ever told you what to study.”
“The hell they didn’t.” He snorts. “You think your grandfather was an easy man? He used to dig through my school bag for corrected tests and berate me for each missed math problem.”
“And you think that’s horrible?” I challenge him. “Because when you parse through my credit card charges to comment on my life, it’s kind of the same.”
He flinches. “You’re an adult, Keaton. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was checking up on you.”
You were. I bite this criticism back, though, because it won’t help me get what I want. “I’m going to Chile. And then graduate school. I’m sorry if you wanted me to take over the company someday. That’s a nice idea, but I don’t think it’s in anyone’s best interest.”