Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
He crawls onto his floating bark in the tank and swirls toward me, stretching his head up like he wants it scratched.
I’m happy.
Totally happy.
I have Bruno and Chuck Norris. I have Adrian.
Now all I need is to get it together in the next few weeks, buy a hot dress, and pretend my heart still isn’t a bit bruised and broken.
My phone goes off, shaking me out of my pity party.
It’s my dad.
Again.
I know he wants us to reconcile. He’s convinced that my sister’s changed, that I would be so surprised and that she asks about me all the time, but I’m not buying it.
I quickly answer the phone. “Hey, Dad, what’s up?”
He clears his throat. Oh no. He’s about ready to make a serious speech. Growing up, my sister and I always knew that when Dad cleared his throat, it was time to make eye contact, stop fidgeting, nod our heads, and listen with such intensity that we would never forget the words of wisdom he was about to pass down.
Sometimes it felt like a listening test, or maybe a respect test, but he almost always ended his long talks with an equally long hug and, most of the time, ice cream.
“I’m worried about you.” His voice sounds weaker than normal, not like the strong dad I’m used to. Is he crying? “I know you got the invite, I know you knew it was coming. Your mom and I really want you to make this work. Can you do it? For the family? For me?”
God, just slash open my chest with a butcher knife, grab my already broken heart, and squeeze, why don’t you?
“Dad…” I barely prevent my voice from cracking. “You know I’d do anything for you. Of course I’m coming.”
His exhale sounds like a million years’ worth of stress just escaped his body. “Good, good, that’s good. I just—we have to talk about some things in person anyway and I haven’t seen you since Christmas.”
“I’ve been busy.” I hate lying to him, but I need time to heal and I know he knows me well enough to understand that space was included in that, especially since my sister still lived at home. Not that it’s like she’s in the basement; she has an entire floor to herself while she attempts to become a beauty influencer on social media.
I’m not one to judge, but she already has so much money and time on her hands it’s baffling to me that she doesn’t want to do something she’s passionate about. She’s never been interested in makeup tutorials, and the weird thing that always bothered me is that it almost feels like everything I did, everything I thought of, she decided she wanted to do.
Like my podcast? She decided months before my marriage that she should start one on beauty products. Okay fine, everyone’s entitled to do their own thing, but then she opened up her own Instagram and kid you not, used the name AddyGal knowing full well that my handle was ScarLady.
Mom said I was making a big deal out of nothing, but then Addison literally started posting on the same days I was posting, and the same content just with different colors.
I take a deep breath.
“Sorry Dad, when I say I’ve been busy I’ve just needed time to—”
“I know, honey, I know. I’m just happy you’re coming to the wedding. Who are you bringing with you? Anyone in your life right now?”
“Oh, um…” I stare at Chuck. I swear he stares back at me with dread that he’s going to have to man up and wear his homemade tux. “Um, actually yes, I am seeing someone, but he can’t come. He has work and stuff, so I’m going to bring my friend Adrian.”
“Your ex Adrian?”
“Yup.”
“The priest?”
“Exactly.” I force a laugh. “He’s really been there for me, and well if your priest suddenly has a heart attack or chokes on a shrimp, we have a standby!”
I slap my hand against my forehead.
“Well, um, sure.” Dad chuckles. “Let’s just make sure there are no shrimp nearby and we have a defibrillator.”
“Good call, safety is always first.” I nod like he can see me. “Anyway, it’s going to be great!”
“You’ll see, she’s changed, we all have—for the better. Now, I’ll let you get going. Oh by the way, what does your new boyfriend do?”
The only thing I can think of is Hedge Funds or teaching, stupid, Zac Efron movie!
“He… he…” I panic and blurt out, “He works for a record label!”
“Wow!” Dad says. “That’s incredible, that’s a hard industry good for him!”
“Ha-ha, well yeah, he likes hard things!” I squeeze my eyes shut. Son of a bitch. I’m going to seriously end up in this apartment with nothing but a turtle, a dog with one blind eye, boxes and boxes of old newspapers, and they’re going to find me buried underneath my Titanic blanket.