Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41577 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a compliment.
Maddox shushed her and relinquished my leg to fix the strap on her dress. Jealousy pricked the spot on my leg where his hand had been. “Looks like you’ve had more than enough to drink, darlin.”
She giggled and shook her head no.
“What was that?” Maddox cupped her chin firmly, forcing her to look at him.
She kissed his thumb. “Yes, sir.”
I glanced between the two of them. Given what little I knew about Maddox’s sexual taste, it didn’t surprise me that he and Kristin seemed to enjoy playing with power dynamics. She noticed my curiosity and patted my foot.
“Henry’s daughter is so sweet, isn’t she?”
Maddox’s smile shifted from contemplative to condescending.
“The sweetest,” he said.
My neck burned where Maddox still held me. I rose to my feet as irritation flared like a match struck against the lining of my stomach. I was sick of Maddox and Kristin and everyone else here shamelessly mooching off my father. They all wanted a piece of him, whether it was his wine or his favor or a peek at his daughter’s underwear. Inviting Kristin had been a mistake. I saw that now. Even if he did know something about my parents’ enigmatic past, he wasn’t about to offer up any quality information with this half-naked idiot hanging off his leg like a tumor.
Skirting the sunken living room, I made my way to the kitchen where the island was littered end-to-end with half-empty wine and liquor bottles. I topped off my drink and then gulped down the contents in a series of forceful swallows.
“Easy there, hon.” Michelle rubbed my back. I coughed as the last of the scotch tore down my throat like shards of glass. “Whisky that expensive should be savored, not chugged like cheap beer. You’ll get plenty of that in college. Speaking of, when do you start?”
I shrugged, afraid that trying to talk would send me into another coughing fit.
“Summer’s almost over, so it can’t be long now. I remember my first semester at Brown. Living away from home can be scary, but you’ll have your dad nearby.”
“I’m not...” I braced myself against the counter as a wave of nausea rolled over me.
“What’s that, hon?”
I shook my head to try and clear the mental haze.
“I’m not leaving.” Considering how inseparable we’d become, it only made sense that I would stay with my father and make the short commute to campus.
“You’ll be living here then?”
“No, she won’t.” My father scrutinized me from beneath the three permanent lines time had etched into his forehead. I hadn’t even noticed his approach. “She’ll be living on campus,” he said, as though it were already decided.
Betrayal shuddered through me. How could he make a statement like that without talking to me first? I met his gaze and the displeasure in his stare was like a shrink ray. It made me feel insignificant.
“You’re evicting me at the end of the summer after everything we’ve done?”
Michelle looked confused.
My father rounded the island and grasped my elbow. “It’s time for you to go to bed, Paige. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
“No.” I disentangled myself from his grasp and stumbled back against the fridge. Michelle reached for me. I waved her off.
“Paige.” My father’s voice held both a warning and a plea.
The floor seemed to tip beneath me. I cradled my face in my hands and fought to turn the world right-side up again. My father wasn’t going to let me stay with him, just like he wasn’t going come clean about why he’d abandoned me. He’d turned my whole life inside-out, and now he was deserting me. Again.
I couldn’t be around all these people for another second.
Brushing past Michelle, I walked in what I hoped was a straight line out the door, through the hall, and into my father’s studio.
Chapter Fourteen
Quiet wrapped itself around me like a blanket, or a bag. A body bag. My heart pounded in my ears and at my temples. My breath grew shallow. A single chain of thought wrapped itself around my head and refused to let go.
Liar. He’s a liar. I am the child of liars. I’m the lie they tell themselves…
I was going to be sick. I somehow made it to the sink in time to retch into the steel bowl instead of on the floor or my dress. My nose and throat burned. I turned on the tap to wash away the mess. My tongue tasted sour, like scotch and bile. I rinsed my mouth and drank down handful after handful of clear, cold water.
Within minutes, my stomach felt better. The room had stopped spinning. I dried my face with a paper towel and went to lie on the futon. My father wouldn’t like that I was messing up the fabric, but fuck him. He promised he wouldn’t send me away.