Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83070 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“It’s not finished by any means. I’ve been picking at it on my days off work. It’s a challenge to mesh my style with Kent’s. I’m bohemian farmhouse, if that’s a thing. And he’s … messy bachelor.”
Our laughter blends, bringing me a bit more at ease.
I spy a gallery wall in the adjacent living room and make my way there. Silver frames of all sizes cover one wall. One by one, I take in the photographs—smiling faces captured across time and the world. Dad and Aurora in Vegas. Aurora in Paris. Dad at a lake with his head tipped back in laughter. There are pictures of them with people I don’t know and intimate photographs of them in front of a fireplace.
Their life is happy and full, and I’m thrilled for them. But a part of me is bitter that there isn’t a place for me in their world beyond random dinners here and there. Worst of all? I feel guilty that I feel bitter about it.
Maybe it’s life that’s complicated.
My throat constricts, and I clench my wineglass tighter.
“Crap,” I whisper, my buzzing phone in my pocket making me jump. “I thought I left this in the car.”
I pull the device out and see Tate’s name on the screen.
Tate: So how’s it going over there, buttercup?
Me: Dad’s not even here.
Tate: Is Aurora being nice?
Me: Oh, she’s always nice. It’s just … weird. It feels so performative, you know? None of us really wants to be doing this. So why are we?
Tate: Want me to pick you up? We can grab dinner at the karaoke bar and heckle the singers.
Me:
Tate: I offered.
The back door closes, and Dad’s voice trickles into the foyer. It sends a flurry of adrenaline through my veins. Here we go.
Me: Dad just got here. Wish me luck.
Tate: If it gets out of hand, text me. I’ll come with my charm and de-pants your hot stepmommy.
Me:
I take a quick gulp of wine and make my way back into the kitchen.
“No, it’s okay,” Aurora says as my father inspects her side. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you were at work, and it’s not like I was dying.” Her giggle is sweet as she scoops my father’s face up in her hands. “How was your day?”
I pause in the doorway and take in the scene in front of me. Aurora wrapped up in my father’s arms, facing him. My father, dressed in a black dress shirt and dark jeans, gazing into her eyes. They whisper back and forth as if sharing secrets. A smile slips across my face as I watch them.
“Hi,” I say, giving them a little wave. “I hate to interrupt, but it feels creepy to stand here and gawk.”
Aurora steps back from Dad, her cheeks flushed. “I need to run upstairs and grab a pain patch. You two need a few minutes to catch up anyway.”
Dad takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly as he faces me. Once Aurora is gone, he gives me a tight smile.
“Hello, Carys,” he says, coming to me. “How have you been?”
He pulls me into a one-armed hug that’s awkward enough to make me wish he hadn’t bothered at all.
“Hey, Dad. I’m good.” I pull away. “How are you?”
“Good, good. Been working a lot and trying to get settled here in the new house. Aurora always has a list of honey-do projects for me.”
He turns toward the cupboard and retrieves a wineglass.
“You guys have this place looking great,” I say as he pours himself a drink. “The curb appeal is awesome. It’s so cozy and inviting, too.”
“That’s all Aurora’s doing. She’s got an eye for design.”
I nod because I don’t know what else to say.
“She’s a real go-getter,” he says. “She’s turning clients down left and right at The Luxe. There’s a waiting list. At a salon. Can you believe that?” He smiles brightly, shaking his head. “I’m so proud of that woman.”
“You should be. She’s pretty awesome.”
“I got lucky as hell with that one.” He takes a long drink, watching the doorway. “What about you? How’s your little endeavor working out?”
My little endeavor …
I lift my chin, my pride wounded. I’m glad he knows every detail about Aurora’s business. He should. She’s his wife. But I have doubts he even knows Plantcy’s name. And I’m more doubtful that he cares.
If we had an actual father-daughter relationship, I’d tell him the truth—that I’m in the growing pains of being a business owner. I’d admit that I jumped ship from the insurance company too soon. That I’m scared my dream of caring for plants might not come to fruition.
But how do I say that when he’s bragging about Aurora’s success?
“It’s going great. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who need in-home plant care.” I pause, and then my mouth keeps going. “I’m actually expanding at the moment.”