Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152853 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 764(@200wpm)___ 611(@250wpm)___ 510(@300wpm)
His jaw ticks. “Am I supposed to believe that?”
“I don’t care what you believe. I’m just letting you know.” Even now, when I hate him with all my strength, being this close to him is torture. Not being able to touch him.
The creak of the door hinges barely registers my awareness. It’s the voice following the sound that gets my attention. “What the hell is going on here?”
My heart seizes at the sound of that familiar voice. No, no, this isn’t happening.
But there’s no denying the sight of my father standing in the living room, the front door still standing open. In one hand, he holds a key. “What the hell did I walk in on? Tell me. Now.”
My brain is going to short circuit. There he is, wearing the sort of polished outfit Mrs. Cooper described: gray slacks, a black turtleneck, a long coat I know cost a small fortune. All at once, the massive difference between this house and the world I’m about to return to comes into sharp focus.
“Nothing,” I somehow manage to choke. “Just… we were…”
“The secret’s out.” Romero gives me a filthy look that pretty much wrecks me. I would swear we went back to where we started. Like nothing has changed at all. “We never did learn to get along.”
“I was hoping you would.” My father scowls at me. “I hoped you would try your best.”
“It’s not her fault.” Romero shrugs. “I’m not easy to get along with.”
“Well, it’s over now.” Dad’s expression goes from stormy to elated. “Are you ready to come home? Where are your bags?”
I’m supposed to act like everything is normal now? Who was I before I came here? My God, I can hardly remember her. My father stares at me, still smiling, waiting for me to respond with… What? God damn Romero. This is all his fault. The spineless bastard.
“I… was going to go up and get everything together now.”
“Are you feeling all right? You’re not sick, are you? I thought you were taking care of yourself while you were here.”
This is all too surreal. I have to be alone. I can’t stand here in front of both of them and still function. “I’m fine. Surprised, that’s all. I had no idea… I mean, I didn’t know things were…”
“I didn’t want to tell her until I was sure everything was settled – and I figured you would rather be the one to tell her, anyway.” Always the kiss ass, isn’t he? And here I am, wishing he was dead.
But not nearly half as much as I wish I was dead.
“Of course. That makes sense.” Everything is fine in Dad’s world. Any decent daughter would be happy to see him looking so happy. However, I am not a decent daughter. I’m not a decent person, period.
“I better go upstairs.”
“Wait a second.” I’m so close to getting past him when he stops me. “Don’t I get a hug after all this time?”
That is the last thing I need to do. I reek of sex–I’m sure he’ll pick up Romero’s scent on me if we get too close. “I don’t think you want any of this right now.” Somehow, he even manages to laugh. “Let me take a quick shower first. But I am really happy to see you, Daddy.” And then I flat-out flee for the privacy of a room that was never mine in the first place. Right now it’s my only comfort.
My heart thuds painfully by the time I reach the front bedroom and close the door, then lean against it and gasp for breath. So this is how it ends. Who am I kidding? Nothing ever began. How could it have if the cold, empty shell down there could push me out of his life like I’m a fly he’s swatting away? That’s all I am to him. An insect. Something small and annoying and useless. I was kidding myself to think I would ever be more than that.
I cover my mouth with my hand to hold in a sob. I wouldn’t want them to hear me. I might disturb their super important conversation, where they’re probably making even more decisions about my life without consulting me. I can’t ruin that, can I?
I’m going. I don’t have a choice. One more example of not having a choice in my own life. But what difference does it make, I guess. He doesn’t want me. I would rather eat glass than stay where I’m not wanted. I might not have much dignity left, but I’m not that pathetic.
I don’t even know where to begin, but I have to. It has never been more important to move my ass than it is right now, being that it means I don’t have to see Romero anymore. That’s the one thing I want most of all. To never see him again. I go to the closet and pull out my suitcases, flinging them on the bed before grabbing things randomly and shoving them inside. This is not the time for me to care which items go in which bag. The sooner I get this over with, the better.