Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126564 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
She strolled toward me, hands clasped behind her back. Circled my frame, taking inventory. I tipped my chin up and stood up straighter, trying to swallow a lump in my throat.
“You hadn’t been answering our calls.” Disdain dripped from her voice. “Before we hired your security detail.”
“You haven’t been giving me a good reason to,” I countered.
“We’re your parents.”
You don’t act like it, I wanted to scream. I drifted away, and you let me. I opted out, and the door was wide open for me to walk through. You never wanted me.
“Well, I’m your daughter, and you haven’t been taking my calls, either.”
“You know exactly why.” Her mouth twitched in annoyance. “Don’t you, Bunny?”
To that, I said nothing.
“You’ve added a few tattoos.” Nice to see where our money is spent, she didn’t add.
“Someone needs to give you something to talk about at the dinner table, and God knows Hera and Craig are perfectly boring.” I shrugged.
“Actions have consequences. You’re going to live with these tattoos for the rest of your life.”
“My whole life?” I widened my eyes, slapping a hand over my chest. “Oh, my. That’s why they don’t come off in the shower.”
She made a face. I couldn’t tell if she was disappointed, exasperated, or both. “When your father gets h—”
“I’m here.” The devil we spoke of walked into the room. “Step back, Jules. Let the kid breathe. Y’all look like you’re about to get in a fistfight.”
Mom stepped back, looking lost and confused all of a sudden.
“Let’s take it to my office, shall we?” Dad smiled good-naturedly.
Following them silently to Dad’s office on the second floor, I remembered I didn’t have anything here with me. No deodorant, no creams, no underwear, no PJs. I would have to make a Target run. The problem was, that would require my parents’ security. One of them would have to accompany me, too.
Mom and Dad conducted a short and efficient discussion about their winter vacation plans on the way upstairs.
“Why must you insist on skiing every year? You know Craig absolutely loathes it. He is no good at it. No good at all.” My mother pleaded my sister’s fiancé’s case.
“So, because Craig isn’t a fan, I shouldn’t do what I want with my limited free time?” Dad huffed. “Craig and Hera are welcome to stay at his parents’ for Christmas if they’re so inclined to. Sugar Pie, you’ll come, right?”
“Christmas…” I murmured behind his back, thinking of a good excuse. “Yeah, I don’t know about that. I’m involved in a lot of charities back home.”
“Don’t be dreadful,” my mother chided, playing with the pearls on her neck as she hurried her steps. “Hera finds them stunningly tedious, and their house is far too crowded for a young couple. Four children. My word, have they not heard of contraception?”
Or overpopulation. Although, here in this house we pretended overpopulation was not a part of global warming. Dad had run on the ticket that he was both an environmentalist and a devout Catholic. Don’t ask me when the last time was he went to church when there were no cameras around.
“In that case, Craig’ll have to toughen up and bear the burden of skiing,”
Dad said.
Finally, we reached the oaky, double doors of his office. Dad pushed one of them open, and the three of us walked inside. He settled behind his desk. My mother and I took the seats in front of him. I felt like I was heading for a life-or-death trial.
“Hallie, my love, how have you been?” my father finally asked, a staggering four hours after I set foot in his house.
I squared my shoulders. I had to plea my case, even if I knew I stood no chance. Here goes nothing.
“Been better.”
“What is it, Sugar Pie?” Dad demanded, his brows creasing worriedly. “Tell us.”
“Well, let me preface this by saying I know I screwed up. Bad. I know that, okay? I’ve absolutely no excuse, and take full responsibility for it. I was drunk, and wore too snug a dress—”
“I have a feeling I know where this is going.” My mother crossed her legs, folding her hands over her knee. Daphne walked into the room, asking if we needed any refreshments.
“Not now, Daph!” Mother barked. “Read the room, for Pete’s sake.”
Daphne scurried away with her tail between her legs.
You and I both, girl.
“You were saying?” Mother turned to face me, squinting accusingly.
“I know I didn’t win any Daughter of the Year awards the night I left the Chateau. But I’ve learned my lesson. I haven’t drunk a drop of alcohol since.” (Other than the three glasses of wine Ransom let me have on the plane here, but that was a one-off, just because I caught him banging someone publicly.) “And I’ve been on my best behavior since then. I don’t think having Mr. Lockwood follow me around is necessary.”