Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 69356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69356 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
And, spoiler alert, none of my family chose me except for Murphy, and apparently him choosing me meant that my family never thought twice about me.
Which was okay with me, honestly.
I’d rather have a true family member—one that stuck with me no matter what—like Murphy than any of the other two-faced assholes I’d once called Uncle or Aunt.
“Whoa there,” Murphy said as he walked out onto the porch. “You look pissed. You have that.” He raised his gnarled hand and encompassed his face with a pass, then grinned. “Resting bitch face going on. Everything okay?”
I felt my belly roll. “Actually, yes. I’m fine. It’s just that I keep thinking of who I’m going to see tonight. I haven’t seen Uncle Roger in six years. I didn’t even get invited to Roger Junior’s graduation. Or Christmas at their house. It’s just… I don’t really want to see them, and now I’m overthinking everything.”
Murphy started to shuffle slowly to his car, which I’d been using over the past few days since I still couldn’t make a decision on what I wanted to buy.
“Get inside and grab a beer to calm down. I’m driving,” he urged, shooing me away with a flick of his wrist.
I did what he said, honestly feeling that I could seriously use the mellowing out right about now.
I’d been on edge ever since Zach had left, and it was getting to the point that I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
Seriously, the anxiety of not knowing how today was going to go, whether I was going to get into a confrontation with my family, was beginning to make me sick.
Walking to Murphy’s stash of beer that was inside his fridge, I caught up two Silver Bullets and thought better of it and put one back.
There would be no way in hell with the way my grandfather drove that I would be able to drink both of them before I got to the church.
Walking to his dish rack, I grabbed up the largest coffee mug that he had sitting there, one I’d bought him for Christmas that said ‘don’t call me grandpa’ and poured as much of the beer into it that I could.
The rest I downed as I walked out of the store and out into the night.
Murphy’s car was already idling, and I had to toss the empty beer into the trash beside the door, and place my cup of beer on the railing, to get at the lock for the door.
When I turned around, keys in hand, fingers extended to reach for my beer, I saw a flash of dark brown out of the corner of my eye at the far side of the building.
Frowning hard, I focused a little harder to see if I could spot the movement again but didn’t spot anything.
Now really feeling a bit freaked out, I grabbed my beer and walked the long way around, avoiding that corner of the building as I walked out wide and around the back of Murphy’s car.
When I arrived at the passenger side door, I squinted my eyes into the darkness but saw no movement whatsoever, not even a change in the shadows.
So I chalked the earlier flash of movement up to my imagination—because lord knew it was going crazy tonight—and yanked open Murphy’s car door and got inside.
“Do you think,” I said as I took a sip of beer and then handed it off for him to hold. “Here, hold this.” I belted myself in. When I was done, I took my coffee cup back. “Do you think that tonight’s going to go bad? Or am I just overthinking things?”
Murphy started to back out of the spot I’d pulled into and then accelerated much too fast down the road for my liking before he answered.
“I think that your stepmother is a selfish creature,” he began. “And I think that, if given the opportunity, she’ll cause a scene because she just can’t help herself. The only thing that would stop her from being selfish is her own daughter’s wedding, and even then, I’m not sure that she could help herself the entire night. So yes, I do think she’ll do something that’ll piss everyone off. Ultimately, I think you’re right for worrying.”
I was glad it wasn’t just me.
“Why do you think my dad married her?” I asked curiously before taking a sip of my beer.
It tasted weird after not having any alcohol in so long.
Beer had never been my favorite, but right then, it really tasted bitter.
“I think your dad saw tits and ass and a woman that would give him something he’d been missing since your mother’s death,” he said. “He saw convenience, an instant mother to his children, and opportunity.”
“Do you wish that you’d told him not to do it? Not get married to her?” I asked.