Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67144 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“In you go,” I say, tossing my yoga mat into the back seat. Then I take my spot behind the wheel.
My car purrs as I pull onto the street and head toward my house. The ride is smooth, and with the radio off, it’s a nice bubble of peace. It’s a nice change from the chaos of the office this afternoon. Between a shooting involving Sebastian in California, a routine audit from an outside accounting firm, and Theo suddenly not getting to stay in the office, it was tense and hectic for everyone. The only bright spot was Troy bringing me lunch … and three cookies because, apparently, there was a sale.
I’m rarely eager to leave work. Today, I couldn’t wait to get out the door.
My dash lights up moments before I hear my phone ring. I glance down and see my father’s wife calling—my stepmom. Alexis isn’t wicked like the stories always promise, but it’s … awkward. Sometimes I’m glad Mom missed this particular development in my life, but other times, I wish she was here to talk to about things like this. It can be hard to separate my emotions from logic and to look at things from different perspectives. Mom was great at that.
“This should be interesting,” I mutter before pressing the button to answer. “Hey, Alexis.”
“Hey, Dahlia. How are you?”
My stomach tenses as I attempt to decode her tone. She doesn’t call often, but given the updates I caught on the news, who knows why she’s calling today.
Alexis Dallo is, by all accounts, a likable person. She seems smitten with my dad, and he’s equally taken with her. Sure, she might be young—only three years older than me, something I learned after seeing her thirtieth birthday pictures on Social a few months ago—but love is love, and she’s been nothing but kind to me. We wouldn’t exactly be friends if it wasn’t for her marriage to my father, but we can handle the roles we have just fine.
“I’m hanging in there,” I say, squinting into the light. “How are you guys doing over there?”
“We’re hanging in there, too.”
Her voice is heavy with exhaustion, and my heart hurts for her. My coping mechanism regarding the whole trial has been to avoid it—to not think about it. Luckily, I have a lifetime of habits on my side. I’m not used to thinking about my father, so although I’ve worried about him, blocking the hoopla from my mind hasn’t been an impossible challenge. That can’t be true for Alexis.
“Your father has wanted to get ahold of you for the past couple of days. It’s all I’ve heard—I need to check on Dahlia.” She laughs. “By the time he gets a moment to himself, it’s late at night, and he doesn’t want to disturb you. He winds up passing out anyway, the poor man.”
Even without the trial, it’s been established that my father is a hard worker. He took his father’s successful business and increased it one hundredfold. Articles are written about him. I’m sure his confidence and work ethic were qualities that attracted Mom to him in the first place. A part of me wishes he would’ve applied some of that determination to being a father much earlier in life, but no amount of wishing will change that now.
“How’s he doing?” I ask.
“He’s a trooper. He’s confident this will all be resolved. I don’t know if he’s telling me that to make me feel better or if he really believes it, but he’s marching forward.”
“I feel bad that I can’t be there more for you. But he told me to stay away and—”
“Oh, Dahlia, no. Please don’t feel that way. You’re doing the right thing. Joe worries himself to death that you’ll get drawn into this mess, and if you stay away, that’s one less thing he has to deal with. I’m sorry if that sounds harsh.”
An awkwardness fills the line between my stepmother and me.
It’s such an odd relationship. This woman could be my sister. And, to make it even weirder, she’s known my dad longer than I have. No amount of kindness will ever make this feel … normal.
“It doesn’t sound harsh,” I say, turning left.
“There’s so much happening behind the scenes, and this is just … the accusations are wild. I hope they’re ready to be sued once this is over and it’s proven to be a witch hunt to steal your father’s assets.”
“The attorneys are optimistic then?”
“Yes. Our team feels confident that things are going well. Our attorneys are filing motions and poking holes into the prosecution’s case. They’re definitely earning their money.”
Good thing Dad has enough of it, then.
I drive down the street and into my driveway. “Will you please tell my father I’m thinking of him?”
“Absolutely. He asked me to let you know you’re always in his thoughts.”