Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106001 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 353(@300wpm)
He frowns sympathetically. “Look, working for Dad is brutal. It was for me. But he’s always been different with you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, like it was all my doing, Dad being harder on his son. “For how he was.”
“It’s not your fault. He just…he adores you.”
That’s the problem. I’m his princess. His good daughter. “I know, but he texted me to come in this morning, and now I’m freaking out.”
“Why? I mean, besides the fact that he’s a total wanker,” he says, and I smile, agreeing, I suppose.
But I shouldn’t involve another person in my terribly messy affairs. “Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” I say, breezy, trying to let it go.
“Harlow,” he chides. “Why are you so worried?”
I need an answer. I need to cover up the terrible truth of my intentions. “I just don’t want to mess up the internship,” I say, and that’s mostly true. I don’t want to ruin the internship since it’s my chance with Bridger. My only chance, and these feelings are no longer a crush. The more I know him, the more I care for him, the more I think Bridger needs me too. There’s something tense in him. He’s a tight coil of a man. He seems to need…unwinding.
I want to unwind him.
But what if Dad has figured me out?
I blink away the horrid possibility and ask Hunter how he’s doing. “Have you met anyone who’s excited you?”
Hunter came out as bisexual earlier this year.
“No, but I remain very committed to the cause,” he says with a laugh. “Even though I’ve only managed a few snogs.”
I laugh harder, feeling better after talking to him, as I always do. “Well, I hope you get more than snogs. When will I see you again? Are you ever coming to New York?” I ask in my little sister pleading voice.
He laughs. “Maybe. My boss, Bernard, has been saying he wants me to do some work with the Webflix team in New York. He hasn’t said when, though. But I am heading to San Francisco next week to connect with some production companies there.”
“Well, come here after,” I suggest, since I’m helpful like that. “I’m sure Bernard will understand your sister wants to see you.”
“I’m sure he will too. You know I want to see you,” he says, with warmth in his brown eyes.
“I know.” I pause, then ask, “Who are you meeting with in San Francisco?”
“A handful of sports and documentary producers. One of them does sports adventure shows, and I’m totally chuffed to meet them. Maybe try to land one of their reality docs.”
“I can’t wait to hear about it,” I say, but as the town car nears Eleventh, I feel like I’ve inhaled black smoke. I’m lying to Hunter by omission, and I feel like my dad. I can’t be a little liar, like he is.
I practice the words in my head—Hunter, I’m wild for Bridger James.
Then, it’s time to say them out loud. “I want to tell you—” I begin, but he’s turned around, his attention caught elsewhere at work.
My brother swings his gaze back to me.
“I have to go. Chat later, Lo,” he says, then blows me a kiss.
“Bye,” I say, but he’s already gone, and I’m here.
Summoned.
My father’s rarely at Lucky 21, because he’s either at home, writing and overseeing scripts, or here on-set.
Or here. In his throne room for his empire as the creative director, surrounded by his many Emmys for writing, and his shelves full of my mother’s love stories. The spines grow larger, like billboards, as I head down the hall, my shoes clicking along the cavernous corridor.
I touch the I on my pendant, wishing I could remember her more.
But then, I’ve remembered enough, haven’t I? Be intrepid. Be brave.
That’s what she left me with.
And Dad?
His biggest life lesson is this one—best to leave adult affairs to themselves.
I’m an adult…ergo.
I turn my emotions around, tying them up in a neat satin bow. I march in, chin up, unafraid.
“Love!” he calls out, standing, coming around his desk, embracing me. “I brought you coffee. And I need your help picking chocolate for the wedding,” he says, then points to a display of chocolate truffles on his desk, box after box of Lulu’s Chocolates next to a cup of coffee, steam rising from the blue mug.
That’s all he wanted? My input on his wedding favors?
“Of course,” I say, thrilled to taste chocolate, rather than be reamed.
After I sample the wares, I pick a dark, raspberry chocolate, then Dad walks me to the door. “I’m so glad the internship is going well, especially since I’m going away on Sunday for a few days,” he says.
“Oh. You are?” I ask, trying to hide my excitement that he’ll be MIA but probably failing. “Where are you going?”
“Cape Cod. A little getaway for Viv,” he says. “Maybe you can figure out the problem with Afternoon Delight.”