Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Dad keeps the conversation light and focused on the airlines, some recent ups and downs in his stock prices making the shareholders nervous.
Basically the usual big-shot CEO worries I’ve heard a million times since I was a little girl.
Evie picks at her food, nodding along and muttering single syllable answers.
Freaking ouch.
I fill my wineglass for the third time. That sweet red blend is the only reason I don’t go off and yell at her until she acknowledges my poor dad exists.
He’s the only reason you’re eating dinner with us and you’re not stuffed away in a rehab place.
Can’t you see how hard he’s trying, how much he’s investing, you ungrateful—
Yeah.
The two-week stint she spent in that clinic wasn’t nearly long enough.
Honestly, the cold, detached shell of a person she’s become since returning home is just killing him in slow motion. It hurts to watch, and the worst is he doesn’t know what else to do.
Still, Dad soldiers on.
He’s just that kind of lovestruck, stubborn buffalo.
He can’t take another failure.
So I look on sadly, feeling like I’m reliving the final hospice days of our family life before Mom ran out with another man and left my father this desperate, broken man.
“Ladies, I’ll be at the North American division conference I told you about next week,” he says with a strained smile. “I trust you’ll both be able to make do without me? I’ve made the usual arrangements with the staff. Oh, and Cordelia, if you’d like to have any friends over, please respect Evie’s space. We certainly don’t want anyone barging in and bothering her.”
Evie slams her fork down, looking up with interest for the first time. Her cutting glance could strip the bark off a tree.
“God, do you ever shut up and stop worrying, Bruce?” she spits. “You really think she’ll drag one of her little friends upstairs and wake me up with some obnoxious fuck session? Are you that oblivious?”
Oh, no.
Time stalls as I stare at her, hating how her eyes flick over to me and never let go.
She sighs slowly before she says, “Cordelia’s too busy riding my son for any interest in other boys, and they’re already loud enough to wake the dead.”
Shit!
I almost drop my empty wineglass.
Dad gives me this glassy-eyed look of dumbstruck horror.
Yikes.
I think it’s the first time since Mom left that I’ve seen him look like he’s staring down a speeding freight train, coming to obliterate what’s left of his miserable world.
“Cordelia?” he whispers dryly. “Is this...is it true?”
“Dad, no! I have no idea what she’s talking about,” I rush out, clearing the nervous lump in my throat.
I hate lying. Especially about something this intensely important.
But I really hate being confronted by this crazy, selfish witch who will never even try to understand what Chris really means to me.
“Evie,” Dad whispers softly, shaking his head like he’s fighting off a nightmare embedded in his brain. “You must be mistaken, honey. Are you sure it isn’t the stress? Are your symptoms worse today? You should eat more salad. I had the chef pile it with blueberries and those candied pecans you love. You remember what your doctors said about the benefits, right?”
Oh, God.
He’s trying so hard, but he just sounds like he’s talking to a child, or maybe a badly trained dog.
And the razor-sharp glint in Evie’s pale-green eyes say exactly how she feels about it, too.
Before she can open her mouth and lay into him again, Dad stands up with a sheepish smile.
I try not to cringe as he walks to her, throwing an arm over her shoulders.
It’s such a sad, caring scene.
My heart would’ve melted in my chest, if only it wasn’t pounding like a hummingbird on crack.
Dad doesn’t believe her.
He thinks it’s too crazy for real life.
Does that mean he’s really that appalled at the idea of his daughter falling in love with her stepbrother?
My stomach churns, and it has nothing to do with eating enough blueberries to reenact that purple transformation from Willy Wonka.
And I hate that I’m even afraid after Chris was so bold with me.
It shouldn’t matter what they think or anyone else.
We’re in love, and no judgmental crap ought to change that.
But when I saw Dad’s face go whiter than a sheet...
My own fork slips and clatters on my plate, causing them to look up from their stormy embrace.
Evie gives me another disgusted look, a cruel sharpness in her eyes.
“Bruce, I think you’d better have a talk with your dearest daughter. You’re right, it’s better that you hear it from her. Not me. But I promise you, I’m not imagining anything.”
My heart leaps into my throat.
“Evangeline, please. I’m sure if there were anything untoward happening, Cordelia would let me know,” he says gently.
He still doesn’t believe her. Thank God.
Too bad lying is the only thing holding me back from total disaster. Because if he’s this freaked out just hearing it suggested...how would he feel if he knew?