Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“Dad.”
My dad’s not a particularly smiley guy, but he smiles when he sees me. “Charlotte.”
I hand my glass to Colin, who takes it without comment, and acting on instinct, I throw my arms around my dad, who stiffens a little in surprise.
We are not a hugging family.
But he chuckles and pats the back of my head a little awkwardly. “Good to have you back.”
Back.
There’s a comfort to the word I didn’t expect. I’m not back—not for good. It’s just a three-month reprieve from my real life until I can ditch my pesky husband, but in this moment, I let myself pretend that I’m home.
“Whiskey, Paul?” Colin asks, as I pull back from the awkward hug.
My dad nods, accepting the glass that Colin’s already poured. There’s an easy casualness to their exchange that makes me feel … weird.
The fact that they’re my parents, that this was my home, even the sense of familiarity when I stepped into the house—it’s an old familiarity. The kind that you inherit, not the kind you’ve earned.
Colin has earned the familiarity. He’s been here. For the life of me, I can’t figure out if I’m annoyed or grateful.
“Charlotte, come. Sit,” Mom says, as she gracefully lowers to the love seat, crossing her legs and gesturing to the opposite love seat.
My mom’s navy slacks, navy pumps, and yellow sweater set are perfectly suited to the conservatively decorated room. My leather pants, not so much. Still, I do as instructed, nodding in thanks as Colin retrieves my cocktail and places it back in my hand.
Then he surprises me by sitting next to me, my father taking his place beside my mother. It’s a weirdly domestic scene, one that suits the three of them, and leaves me feeling very much the newcomer who hasn’t read this part of the script.
“We were so glad to hear that you and Colin decided to try to make your marriage work.”
I choke into my cocktail and glance at Colin in bemusement.
But his expression betrays nothing, and I look back at my parents. Surely they don’t think—?
There is no sense of irony on their faces, no knowing smirks. Which I guess I should have figured. I don’t remember either parent having much of a sense of humor, but they’re also not stupid. There’s no way they think that Colin and I got married for real.
Right?
Ten years ago, Justin had very specific instructions about my arrangement with Colin:
Don’t tell a single goddamn person the truth.
We’d all known that those close to us would make their own assumptions, obviously, but on the off chance we were suspected of marriage fraud, we hadn’t wanted to put anyone in the position of having to lie for us.
That had included my parents, but I always thought they’d figured out the truth about why we got married. They were well aware of the stipulations of the trust fund from my grandmother, and it couldn’t have been much of a leap to put together the fact that Irish-born Colin would benefit as well.
Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least if they believed what they wanted to believe for stubbornness’ sake.
Or wishful thinking.
I get another one of those pangs at the thought that my parents have been clinging to hope that their rebellious daughter would return home to patch things up with the dutiful husband.
But. It’s been a decade. Surely they don’t think that Colin and I have been actually married for that long.
Surely he hasn’t let them think that.
“Naturally, it’s something to celebrate, so I thought I’d throw a small get-together.”
“Wait, what?” My attention snaps away from the unreadable man beside me and back to my mom.
“People want to see you, Charlotte,” she says, as though this explains everything. “Just yesterday Irene Hicks asked how you were.”
“Irene Hicks. As in Mrs. Hicks? My seventh-grade teacher?”
“Since she was one of your favorites, I invited her over on Friday—”
“Wait.” I hold up a hand, feeling panicked now. “Friday—”
“For your party,” she says, sounding exasperated with me, as though I’m the one talking crazy. “Colin, I already called your office and talked to Stephanie about your schedule. She said you’re wide open.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Colin hesitate for just a second before nodding. “Sure. Friday night sounds good.”
“Oh, does it?” I ask sarcastically, giving him a quick dark look before turning back to my parents.
“Mom, I really appreciate the sentiment, but I think a party would be weird.”
My mother looks affronted. “My parties are never weird.”
“No, I know, I just mean …” I take a breath. “I mean it would be weird to have a welcome back party when I’m not back for good.”
I stumble over the announcement slightly, feeling fifteen again. I’m fully braced for disappointment and/or a guilt trip and am a little puzzled when I get neither.