Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 495(@200wpm)___ 396(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
“It’s all my fault,” Annika admits. “I won’t leave the house without makeup.”
“You’re worth the wait,” my father assures her, kissing her on the cheek.
My father hates it when I’m late, but he loves the heck out of Annika. So I guess I’m getting a free pass on this one.
“Nice tackle during the second quarter yesterday,” my dad says as I sit down. “Great game.”
“Thank you!” I unfold my napkin in my lap, trying not to show how much the compliment means to me.
Pathetic, much? I’m twenty-one years old and still trying to please my daddy.
In fact, I just read a study, where a scientist did MRIs on some dogs. (I seriously can’t imagine how. Hold still... Good boy!) And he found that their brains light up just as enthusiastically for praise as they do for food.
In other words, I’m as smart as a golden retriever.
My girlfriend opens her menu. “I always get the eggs Benedict. And Keaton always gets the waffles and bacon. But maybe it’s time for a change…”
“You always say that.” I drop my napkin in my lap. “And then you order the same thing, anyway. Maybe I’ll get the eggs Benedict.”
She arches one perfect eyebrow over her menu. “Don’t you dare. I need a bite of the waffles with bacon.”
My dad chuckles good-naturedly. “How’s your father?” he asks her. “It’s been a while since I brutalized him on the golf course.”
“Has he brutalized you on the golf course in the meantime?” I ask.
Dad makes a show of kicking me under the table. This is why I wanted Annika here. It lightens our relationship to a bearable level for me. Dad is goofier when there’s a girl present. Or anyone, really.
Annika has no idea how fraught our relationship is getting lately. Even though graduation is still a year and a half away, I feel it looming. Dad’s interference in my life is only going to get worse, not better.
Luckily, the waiter is here again to take our order. My father orders the quiche and a mimosa.
“A glass for the lady, too?” our waiter asks. But then he frowns. “I’d need to see some ID, though.”
My girl shakes her head. “January, then. I’ll finally be legal. Just the eggs Benedict, please, and a glass of your fresh-squeezed juice.”
After the guy walks away, my father asks a simple question. “Do you have any big plans for your birthday?”
Annika’s eyes go wide, and when I try to swallow, my water goes down the wrong pipe.
Well, Dad, we’re inviting a man to get naked with us and get us both off together. As one does.
I spend the next couple of seconds trying not to cough, but Annika covers for me by launching into a story about designing T-shirts for her sorority. I finally regain control of my esophagus just as she gets to the punch line.
Did I mention that I owe this girl big-time?
“How was your week, Mr. Hayworth?” Annika asks as our food arrives.
“I’ve known you since you were in pigtails and braces, Ani. How many times do I have to remind you to call me Keat?” Dad teases.
“I’ll do my best, Mr. Hayworth.” She winks, but despite the playful response I know she’ll never, ever call him “Keat.” Annika had already admitted to me that she feels awkward calling my father the same name as me. It confuses her.
Luckily, she’s never had to be in the same room as me, Dad, and Grandpa Keaton. Her head would spin.
“My week was pretty ordinary,” Dad says. “I spent it chatting up the administrators at Columbia Presbyterian about our clinical trial. But nobody wants to talk about me—tell me about the campaign, Keaton. Have you decided what you’re doing for the Dance-off?”
I take another sip of my coffee, stalling. “Not yet,” I admit when I can’t drag out the sip any longer. “I want to plan something different, something that hasn’t been done at the frat before, but I’m stumped.”
“What event did you plan when you ran for president?” Annika asks curiously, the question directed at my father.
He breaks out in a grin. “Not to brag, but it was the best party I’ve ever thrown, or even been to in my life. The best night of my life, honestly.” He chuckles. “I spent six months planning it.”
Something twists in my gut. Six months? I’ve heard my dad talk about this party before, but it isn’t until now that I’m realizing how much effort he put into it.
“The summer before, my sister Rosie and I went to a Cirque du Soleil show, and we had these VIP seats with a meet-the-performers party afterward.”
Of course they had VIP seats. Dad buys the top-shelf version of everything.
“I was really impressed. I thought a circus was just trained dogs and clowns. But their show was so eerie and neat. And when I read the program during intermission, I got an idea. They were coming through New England during the school year. And I offered a dozen of them two free nights of lodging at Alpha Delt in exchange for a private performance.”