Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 355(@200wpm)___ 284(@250wpm)___ 237(@300wpm)
“Yes,” I lie.
He senses it’s a lie straight away. “Your things will arrive in twenty minutes. I suggest you wait for them.” Then he walks off. Once he’s gone, I head to the fridge to see what’s available. My usual breakfast is in there. I turn to look for him to ask him how he knew, but he’s long since gone. How on earth does he know what I eat for breakfast? Coconut yogurt, strawberries, and peanut butter. I know it’s weird, but once you try it—heavenly. Taking all three ingredients out, I make my breakfast and check my cell phone. My father has tried calling several times, and if he doesn’t hear from me soon, I’m afraid that outcome probably won’t be great. But I also wonder now if he would do the same old guilt trip he would normally do now Whiskey is in the picture.
“You’re too busy now for your own father?” he answers. Clearly, he’s not impressed by the sound of his voice.
“I was sleeping. I’ve just woken. It was a big night last night.”
“Indeed, it was. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised. But it was a pleasant surprise. You will be marrying well. I’m pleased that you will be taking care of your family.” I should have known my father would make this about the family. Who cares if I’m happy or not, right? He’s fishing for truths and lies, but luckily, I know all his tricks.
“Whiskey and I feel its best.” I say, almost choking on the blatant lies I’m spewing. Am I trying to convince him or myself more?”
“Good. Good. You’ll be marrying well then.”
I cough. If only he knew. But would he really care, considering I am marrying Whiskey? A man who Father can gain traction from being associated with? Yeah, I doubt it very much.
“Yes,” I manage to squeak out.
“We want to pay for the wedding. It’s tradition.” My eyes bulge at that statement. I scoop another spoonful of my breakfast, ignoring him as he continues, “I’m sure you can convince him. Tell him, no budget.”
“Sure.”
“Lottie.”
“Yes, Father.”
“Divorce is not an option, you hear me?” Why is he bringing divorce up? Shit, does he suspect that this is all a ploy? “You stay, no matter what. Marriage is a life commitment.” My spoon freezes. “Lottie,” he says when I don’t answer.
“That’s not up to you, father.”
“So, you’re keeping it as an option?” Dad’s fishing, the asshole.
“No, but that’s out of your hands. I would never stay married to someone I don’t love.”
“So, you aren’t sure if you love him?”
I place the phone down and mute it, then I scream, loudly. I can hear him saying my name when I unmute it.
“I love him.” Shit! That tasted like acid when I spoke it, a caustic taste that burns my mouth.
“Good, as long as you’re sure. Hate for the newspapers to write about how my daughter marries then divorces straight away. They will think you’ve done it just for the money.” There’s no point in me speaking anymore. He’s digging for more information that I don’t want to give him.
“Okay, I’ll be off then. Send the accounts for your wedding straight to your mother. She’ll handle it all.” Then he hangs up with no goodbye. And so, I repeat the process, screaming at the top of my lungs. One day he will hear me. One day he will know how frustrated he makes me. Maybe.
“You really have issues with your father, don’t you?”
I freeze, then slowly turn around. Whiskey’s leaning against the door, his hands in his pockets as he watches me.
“How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to hear you admitting just much you love me.” He gives me a smug look while bringing his hands to his heart, looking like a teen girl who’s talking about her first love. “I also heard the scream. But I’m not sure if it was frustration or just because you can’t contain your feelings.”
That bastard. He’s enjoying this too much.
“Fuck off,” I say, turning back to my breakfast.
“Such a filthy mouth. Wonder what Daddy would say if he heard how much of a dirty girl you are,” he throws back at me.
“He doesn’t, and it will stay that way.” Turning back to him I ask, “How did you know what I eat for breakfast?”
Whiskey straightens his hands and they come out of his pockets. “I take notice of things that are important to me. You’re one of them.” Then he walks off, leaving me at the kitchen counter, angry at the two men in my life.
One is meant to love me no matter what.
The other is using me for his own personal gain.
And right now, I have no idea what that even is.
“Just run away and never come back,” Emma says as I walk into my now empty room. Everything was packed up and delivered to my new house, one I never signed up for, one I would never have picked myself.