Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24157 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
My dad turns to look at me.
“Of course,” he says with a smile. “I’m just glad you’re back, kiddo.”
“Me too,” I say enthusiastically, even though my heart’s pounding with the news I’m about to reveal.
The doorbell rings exactly at five o’clock--Christopher is always incredibly timely. I give myself one last look at myself in the mirror, surveying my dress, hair, and makeup with a critical eye. Deeming my appearance satisfactory, I run to get the door before my dad can, yelling, “I’ll get it!”
Chris looks casual yet dashing in dark-wash jeans and a button-up, and comes bearing green bean casserole and my favorite kind of wine. Seeing me, he winks and gives me a quick peck on the cheek.
“Had to bring the best wine for my best girl,” he whispers in my ear.
“Hey, Chris!” My dad greets his friend as Christopher comes inside. I close the door behind him, suddenly nervous. We’re going to have the discussion after dinner, so there’s plenty of time for me to stress about it beforehand. When my dad heads into the kitchen to put away the wine and casserole, Christopher grabs my hand and squeezes it. He looks deep into my eyes, and suddenly, I’m reassured. Everything is going to be okay as long as this man is by my side.
Christopher and my dad chat as they bring all the dishes out, and I set the table using our nicest china. I catch my reflection in one of the plates, and my face is tightly drawn, my eyes wide with worry. Relax, I order myself, hurrying to place the rest of the plates, cutlery, and glasses. Suddenly, I feel a sweet kiss on my cheek--Christopher has come up behind me while my dad is in the kitchen.
“You okay, baby?” he murmurs.
I nod, smile at him, and we pull away just as my Rick enters the room, carrying the turkey. Christopher and I ooh and ahh over it, and after Rick sets it down, he performs an elaborate bow.
“Time to eat!” he announces, and we sit.
Everything, as usual, is delicious. Thanksgiving food is my favorite, all warm and comforting, and I allow myself to get out of my head and savor the familiar flavors. Christopher and my dad chat for a while; no one protests as I drink some wine, and I feel suddenly very much like an adult.
“Bailey, tell Christopher how school is going,” my dad says as I’m enjoying some mashed potatoes. I watch Christopher press his lips tightly together, presumably to keep from laughing--he and I talk every day, and he probably knows more about how my college experience is going than my dad does. Still, dinner isn’t over yet. I play along.
“Everything is fine,” I say, wiping my mouth with a napkin. “I really like my English classes and really hate math, as usual. I’m doing mostly gen eds right now until I decide what I want to do.”
“How’s Kara doing?” Christopher asks innocently. This time, I try not to quirk a brow at him, as I know he spoke to her when he came to campus looking for me.
My dad, for some strange reason, immediately looks up.
“She’s fine, too,” I say, digging into the corn casserole (which, if I do say so myself, is delectable). “We’re just going day by day. College is full of new experiences, and we want to savor them fully.”
Rick nods and eats a forkful of green bean casserole.
“Watch out for boys on campus,” he warns. “They’re green and don’t know what they’re doing.”
I share a quick look with Christopher. My dad has no idea that I have absolutely no interest in the boys on campus whatsoever.
“Don’t worry,” I say cheerfully. “I’m just focusing on my studies right now.”
My dad nods with satisfaction and then leans back.
“I’m trying to weasel it out of Bailey if she’s dating anyone yet,” Rick says to Christopher with a grin. “Although as you can see, I’m torn about my daughter actually dating the opposite sex.”
I watch a shadow pass over Christopher’s usually open, confident face, and I squeeze my hands together under the table. We haven’t even gotten to dessert yet. Are we going to have this conversation now?
Christopher looks searchingly at me for a long moment. Finally, I nod. There’s no time, I suppose, like the present. Let’s get this over with.
“Rick,” Christopher says, setting down his fork and knife. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”
My dad takes another sip of wine. I notice abruptly that my dad has had a glass or two--this could either work in our favor, or not.
“What’s up?” my dad says. “Is it okay that Bailey hears it too?”
I open and close my mouth, gaping like a fish, unsure if I’m supposed to interject. Thankfully, Christopher smoothly says, “Absolutely. Actually, it also involves Bailey, so I’m glad she’s here. I’m always glad she’s here.”