Total pages in book: 225
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 218500 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1093(@200wpm)___ 874(@250wpm)___ 728(@300wpm)
When he got sick, I did become invisible. When he died, I did try to make up for things by being the perfect child. Cooking. Cleaning. Looking after my parents. Trying to be the glue for our family through trying hard with my grades, with athletics, with everything. But my mom was pretty checked out. Dad wasn’t much better.
My parents haven’t ever been cold or mean to me, but they don’t exactly make much of an effort. Really haven’t since I turned eighteen and went off to school.
So many people talk about how much their adoptive parents deserve their everlasting gratitude for giving them the most amazing childhood when their biological parents couldn’t. But I rarely hear kids talk about families who seem to tolerate their adoptive kids rather than treasuring them as if they were blood.
Even though I’ve occasionally felt like I was a second-class family member, I know it could’ve been worse. They’re not bad people. They’re just sort of indifferent.
But even still, I’ve never sought out my birth mother. All I knew was that she had me young and wanted me to go to a family who couldn’t have children. She wanted to go to college. She had a scholarship opportunity and didn’t have a supportive family to help her raise me. My parents told me she probably wouldn’t come looking for me. As far as I know, she didn’t. I thought about asking about her a few times before Bryan got sick. I never did and then after Bryan, I didn’t want to insult them or have them feel like they were losing me, too.
And now, feeling betrayed by Adam and that being compounded by Derek blowing the dust off the open wounds left from my relationship with my parents, I now wonder how much Derek knows about my life, my parents, my birth parents.
After the long shower, I finally have an appetite, so I dress in sweats and wander out to the kitchen to warm up my breakfast. Derek is at the dining table, laptop open, phone to his ear.
“No,” he says, “Columbus for at least a few more days. After that, we’ll see… Right. Right. Bye.” He puts his phone down and watches me put my plate in the microwave.
I avoid his eyes while uncapping the cold water I get from the fridge.
While I’m eating microwaved pancakes and bacon at the kitchen counter, studiously avoiding meeting his gaze as he shamelessly watches me, his phone chimes with an alert.
“Oh, Nicola is here,” he says and rises, eyes on his phone. “Be right back.”
I don’t ask who Nicola is. I continue shoveling reheated pancakes into my face. They’re good, even reheated. So is the syrup from his family place.
Bottled with love by The Steele Family.
Well, bully for the Steele family with their steel heart logo. Even if it is damn good maple syrup. After I’m done, I’m still hungry, so I reach under the dome on the counter and pull out one of the chocolate éclairs and take a big bite. And then another. Even a day old, it’s still the best thing ever.
Eating my feelings? Guess so.
This is, of course, when Derek’s head pokes into the apartment.
“Can you hold this door for me a sec, please?” he asks.
I see he’s got a rolling rack behind him.
I put the éclair down and move his way, too much food in my mouth, and not giving a care.
His eyes sparkle with amusement as I hold the door open. He backs up and then pulls in a long rack.
“That’s good,” he says and relieves me of door-holding duty, kissing me and then licking his lips, going, “Mm” as he shuts and then locks it.
He gestures to the seven or eight-foot-long rolling rack that’s filled with clothes and stacked boxes underneath. Shoe boxes, mostly, with some brand names I recognize.
“This is all for you,” he says. “I’ll roll it into the closet, you try on what you like. If there’s anything you don’t want, leave it on the rack. Anything you do want, just move it into the closet for now. It’ll all go with us when we leave. Have it all if you want.”
There’s a lot to unpack here but before I can even ponder where to start, he touches a sky blue dress at the front of the rack. “I’d like you to wear this tomorrow, if you don’t mind. Or this.” He points to another dress that’s nearly the same color of blue but with black and cream mixed in. “I’d love if you’d model them both for me and let me pick, but I suspect you’ll tell me to go fuck myself.”
“Tomorrow?” I ask.
“Brunch with my parents. It’s their family thing for their fortieth anniversary. Next weekend is the bigger celebration.”
I stare blankly. He’s serious.
“This will be family only. Next weekend, it’ll be about four hundred guests.”