Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62783 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 314(@200wpm)___ 251(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“Being a police officer must be time-demanding,” my father said after a few moments. “I’m sure you’re heading to the station soon, right? It’s not like criminals take a day off.”
“Father,” I hissed, going rigid in my chair.
Jim smiled, shaking his head, while he dabbed at his lips with a napkin despite his mouth and beard being immaculate. A combination of hurt and finality flashed across his eyes as he set down his knife and fork, scooting away from the table.
“You know, you’re right,” he said, laying his napkin on the table. “Thank you for the meal, Mrs. VanDoren,” he continued as he stood up. “It was delicious. I hope you enjoy the pie. I got it from Lyla’s Place. My friend swears she’s the best chef this side of the country.”
“Jim,” I said, staring up at him. “Please don’t go.”
“It’s all right,” he said, glancing at my father. “I’m not where I belong.”
The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stunning me for a moment as he walked out of the room.
“Harold,” Mom chided. “What’s gotten into you?”
“That was totally uncalled for,” Sephie added.
“Seemed on par to me,” Cannon mumbled under his breath before taking another huge bite of turkey.
Finally regaining my senses, I stood up, looking down on my father. “You would think ten years would be enough to erase your unfounded dislike of Jim, but no, you’re acting as unreasonable as you did all those years ago. Jim at least had the decency to be polite.”
“I—”
“Don’t,” I cut my father off, flashing an apologetic look at my mother before hurrying out of the room.
I raced through the entryway, catching up to Jim who was waiting for his car at the valet station.
“Jim, wait, please—”
“It’s fine, Anne,” he said. “Just go back in there and enjoy your Thanksgiving.”
“Fuck Thanksgiving,” I said, and his eyes flashed wide. “Please, talk to me.”
“About what?” he asked, and I tugged on his arm, leading him away from the prying eyes and ears of the valet, and heading deeper into the grounds until we were alone and covered by an outcropping of trees.
“About anything,” I said. “I’m so sorry about my father—”
“De ja-fucking-vu,” he said, rubbing his palms over his face.
“I didn’t think he’d behave the same way after ten years…”
“It’s fine,” he said. “Seriously. It was a mistake coming here again.”
My stomach dropped at his words, and tears welled up in my eyes. “Well, I’m used to that,” I finally said, forcing my chin to stay up.
“What?”
“Being a mistake. It’s like my unwanted mission statement.”
“You are the furthest thing from a mistake,” he said, his voice low and rough as he stepped toward me.
“Then what—”
“Me coming here and thinking anything would be different is the mistake. Having any sort of hope that your father would be enlightened was a mistake.” He blew out a breath, and I could feel the tension radiating off of him, he stood so close. “Why didn’t you tell me about the sobriety?”
“You didn’t ask,” I said.
“How would I know to ask, Anne?” He gave me a chiding look. “We hadn’t spoken for ten years before you came back into my life.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I should’ve told you but…” Why hadn’t I brought it up when we first had dinner? When he’d kissed me? The reasoning, as sad as it was, settled in my chest. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you to see my failures any more than you had in the gossip columns that loved to paint my story all over the papers.”
“Addiction doesn’t make you a failure,” he said. “It just means you need help. You know I’d never judge you. I never have—”
“I know,” I said. “I know. I’m just trying to reorient my life and I’m trying to do better and I didn’t know how to open that conversation.” I flung my arms out. “Hey, Jim. I’m four weeks sober because the doctors told me if I kept up my habits, I would be dead within the year. Also, I’ve been an awful person to my sister more times than I can count due to an incident that wasn’t even her fault, I’ve been a coward as much as I’ve been numb to reality, and I’ve had a string of failed marriages to men who hated me more than they liked me. Great to see you again.”
He gaped at me, his eyes churning as he processed the info dump I’d laid on him.
“Your liver?” he finally asked, and I nodded. He took a step back, raking his fingers through his hair.
“You see why I didn’t want to tell you?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest like I could protect myself. “I don’t really care what anyone else thinks of me, but you? Your opinion means more to me than anyone else’s. And for once, I didn’t want to be the mistake or the embarrassment. I just wanted to be…me.”