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)
Evie grabs his arm and throws him off with an exasperated sound like a snake.
She staggers up, hurling her napkin over her half-finished food, and glares at my poor whipped father.
“Your lying little skank has some nerve, Bruce, I’ll give her that. She’s old enough to go after a man, I suppose, even if he’s the last boy in the world she ought to be with.”
“Evie, enough,” Dad clips. “I won’t have you calling my daughter a skank in this house. I understand you’ve been through pure hell, and we’re here for you, but that doesn’t give you the right to be such a...”
He trails off.
I’m so flipping stunned I can’t breathe.
Evie cocks her head, her eyes narrowed. “A bitch, you mean? Oh, Brucey. I would’ve given you a kiss if you’d had the balls to finally say what you really think. You’re hardly the first.” She pauses, this miserable expression on her face before she looks at him again. “Oh, well! I’ll let you find out the hard way, Mr. Hardass. You won’t have me butting in anymore, hubby. Good fucking night.”
My eyes stay on my food the entire time she bolts up and stomps away.
Consider my appetite obliterated.
Dad sticking up for me lends a shred of hope, despite making me feel worse than ever for lying through my teeth.
We can’t hold back the truth forever.
What happens then?
He pulls the chair out next to Evie’s empty seat and sinks down angrily, huffing out a defeated sigh.
We both listen to the echo of her heels, distant and lonely, like the hooves of some creature making its way back below the surface.
With anybody else, I’d be exaggerating, but with Evangeline...
“Dad, don’t worry. It must be the lingering withdrawals or something messing with her head. You guys will be fine,” I whisper, reaching for his hand and squeezing it tight. “Don’t listen to her. I’m glad you stood up for me, whether she really meant that crap or not.”
He gives me a wry smile like he can’t believe my words, but wants to.
“You had to put her in her place,” I whisper.
Well, almost, I think to myself, but of course I don’t say it.
I just hope he hasn’t demolished the whole relationship and his ego along with it—even if it’s clearer by the day that breaking this insanity off sooner would be the best outcome.
“I just wish I knew why they all wind up hating me in the end,” he growls, pulling his hand away from mine. He rakes his hair back, ruffling his salt-and-pepper layers.
“Crazy women suck,” I say sharply. “You’re a great guy, Dad. It’s just bad luck. You never know, if this doesn’t work... Maybe the third time’s the charm?”
He looks away, shaking his head fiercely.
“I can’t throw in the towel just yet, Cordelia.”
Why? I wonder, staring at him.
He sighs, rolling his shoulders. “Sometimes this feels worse than with your mother. At least her affair...well, I saw it coming. I didn’t want to, but I had enough hints. And maybe I was partly at fault... I worked too many hours. I ignored her too much. I know I screwed up.”
“Dad, no! Stop it.” I lean across the table, searching his eyes. “You didn’t deserve being cheated on. And you don’t need a wife who talks down to you, either.”
My heart sinks into my gut.
He’s beating himself up again, and I don’t want to hear it.
Okay, maybe there’s a grain of truth to everything he’s saying, but Mom walked out on us both.
He absolutely isn’t the one to blame for that imploding like it did.
Jesus, I haven’t gotten more than Christmas and birthday cards from her since the divorce and the rare awkward phone call. She cut us out of her new life ever since she attached herself to a new dick and moved across the country.
That was her choice, and hers alone.
Call me a daddy’s girl, but it’s always been just us.
I’m used to that.
And until this nasty third wheel rolled into our lives, I was used to Dad not hurting. Not bleeding a little more of his shredded heart out every time I see him.
I know I’m still the only thing he can count on.
That always went both ways.
We were happy.
One small, imperfect, happy family.
Until Evie.
Until Chris.
Now, she’s strangling him one day at a time like the boa constrictor she is, and I’m lying to my own father for the last man in the world I should be falling for.
Why is this my life?
I shouldn’t have downed that third glass of wine, trying to take the edge off.
But I push down the lump in my throat, fighting to keep it together, hating that I’m blotting at my eyes with my napkin every time Dad has his back turned.
He gives me the familiar, wounded look he always does when he knows I’m hurting.