Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124923 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 416(@300wpm)
That’s my concern, too, but I don’t voice it. Yet anyway. For as long as I’ve known her, Shayne’s always wanted to know who her dad was, and why he wasn’t a part of her life. Of course, she’d care, whether she’d admit it or not. “You’d totally care.”
“Would not.”
“Then why bother getting to know him at all?” I challenge.
“Let’s talk about your dad instead,” she suggests, putting the focus on me and my own fucked-up relationship with my father.
I take a huge bite of my breakfast sandwich, pointing to my mouth and mumbling incoherently.
“That’s what I thought,” she says smugly. “But seriously, how did it go?”
I roll my eyes, swallowing my food. “I barely saw him.” I said hi to him and briefly exchanged pleasantries with his fiancée and her daughter after my run-in with the judge, but that was it. “He wants me to finish out the break with him.”
Her eyebrows jump. “And?”
“I haven’t spent more than two hours with him since I was fourteen years old. You couldn’t pay me to stay with him while he’s playing house with his new family.”
She nods. “That would be pretty awkward.”
“I told him I’d go to lunch before he goes home to hear him out, but it’s not happening.”
She shrugs a shoulder, holding her sandwich with both hands. “At least you’ll get a good meal out of it. Maybe he’ll buy you a whole new house to sweeten the deal.”
Valen
What does one wear to dinner with their semi-estranged father? Jeans are too casual, but a dress is out of the question. It took me way too long to decide on an outfit that fits the occasion. I take one last look in the full-length mirror at my all-black ensemble. Comfy ribbed sweater, leather skirt, tights, oversized leather jacket, and knee-high boots all of the same color. Perfect reflection of my current mood.
I swipe my phone and my little purse—also black—off my bed and move a little faster once I see the time. “Dammit.” I’m going to be late. I don’t mind making my dad wait on me for a little while considering I’ve had a lifetime of waiting on him. However, I still have an hour drive ahead of me. More with evening rush hour traffic. I head out into the hall and lock my door, then toss my key card into my purse. I’m speed-walking down the hall and out the door with my head down, too busy making sure I have everything I need in my bag to watch where I’m going. Just as I rush out the double doors, I run right smack into a familiar muscular chest.
My purse falls to the ground, the contents spilling out onto the concrete steps. Key card, car keys, lip balm, sunglasses, driver’s license, and a hair clip are scattered everywhere. “Shit!”
“Whoa,” Ryan says, steadying me by the shoulders. “You good?”
“Sorry,” I say, kneeling to the ground and tucking my hair behind my ear before I start to collect my things. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a man hold one of the doors open, then Ryan drops his bag at his feet and bends down to help me. He’s sweating, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and basketball shorts despite the cold, so I assume he’s just finished practice.
“Running away from Holden?” he asks, handing me my sunglasses and lip balm.
“He’s here?” I can’t help but glance back at their door behind me.
“I’m fucking with you.” He laughs. “I have no idea.”
I roll my eyes. “Sorry, I’m running late and wasn’t paying attention.”
“All good. See you around.”
“Thanks,” I say when he hands me the last of my stuff—a rogue hair tie—before we both stand and go our separate ways. I absently mutter a thank you to the man holding the door on the way out as I finish stuffing the rest of my things into my purse before zipping it. I check my phone one more time to see that I have forty-five minutes to get there. Yeah, I’m definitely late.
Surprisingly enough, there wasn’t much traffic. I would’ve been on time if parking wasn’t such a nightmare. Still, I’m only ten minutes late. Somewhere along the way, my nerves started to calm, and after talking on the phone with Shayne nearly the entire drive here, I feel…cautiously optimistic. My dad has always been a man full of false promises, but maybe the fact that I’m an adult and away from my mom changes things. Maybe it will be different this time.
I peer up at the restaurant my dad used to bring me to when I was little. I haven’t thought about this place in years. I was a picky kid and wouldn’t eat anything on the menu, so he’d would order a plate full of strawberries and pour a giant pile of sugar on my plate to dip them in. Naturally, my mom hated it and complained about the excess sugar. But it was our thing. Even as I got older, I never did end up liking the food, but I was happy to go for the strawberries alone. And the rare moments I got to spend with my dad.