Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
He doesn’t know what happened. Shocker: he doesn’t watch advice shows that are live streamed. He likes the Property Brothers and sports.
When I reach the cushy faux leather chair in the second row, I sink down into it, my jaw tight, my mind a traffic snarl.
Corbin pops up behind me, Miller in front of me, Ivan in the aisle, Riggs by my side.
“Is this a clown car?”
No one takes the bait.
“Dude, what are you gonna do?” The blunt question comes from Miller. And it’s a valid one.
And I could blow them off, make a snarky comment, grump my way out of the conversation.
But I’m tired of being lonely, I’m worn out from my own inner grouch, I’m exhausted from thinking only of her. “Besides pay all you assholes?”
It’s an admission, all right. They won the bet. I fell ass over skates in love.
Ivan gives me a wise look—the look of a happily married man. “You could just tell her.”
Is she even ready, though, for all these fucking feelings inside me? Does she need a guy like me who’s madly, outrageously, ridiculously in love with her when she’s a mere month and a half out of a toxic relationship? I can’t just be a rebound with her. I can’t take it day by day. I can’t be casual. I want everything. “She broke up with that fucknozzle less than two months ago,” I say, like that proves my point. “And the night of the wedding, she thanked me for being a good boyfriend—that was it. She acknowledged it was fake. I was only ever supposed to be a rebound.”
Corbin gives a so-what shrug. “‘Supposed to be’ doesn’t really matter, does it?”
Hmm. Maybe he’s onto something.
“And maybe let her make that decision about what she wants,” Riggs says.
And dammit. He has a point too.
“Pretty sure she can’t do that though unless you tell her,” Miller adds.
And I hate that they’re right.
* * *
But first things first. I pull into the gravel driveway late, clocking that the light’s on in the living room. A weight settles into my gut, but I have to tell my dad now. I have to let him down. He’ll be so destroyed. He liked Remy so much.
Well, get in line.
I’m heading up the porch steps, mentally prepping, when somebody inside opens the door. Holy shit. It’s my father. He never opens the door. It’s too close to outside.
“What is going on?” I ask with some trepidation.
He gives a cheeky grin. “I wanted to open the door for my son. Anything wrong with that?”
Something dangerous like hope swells up inside me, but I tamp it down. I’ve been hopeful before. I don’t need to be hopeful again. “How’s everything going?” I ask, stepping inside.
“I’m okay. But are you? That was a tough game.”
“Yeah, it was,” I say, and then I shut the door and follow him to the kitchen table. He gestures to two plates, each one holding a sandwich on thick, seeded bread—my favorite.
“Figured you’d be hungry. Made you a sandwich,” he says, and I’m pretty sure it’s the fake bologna Remy turned him onto. For some reason, that makes my heart hurt even more.
“I’m ravenous,” I say, then bite into it. “This is good,” I admit.
“Told you so.”
No matter how good the sandwich is or how hungry I am, I need to face the music. I set the sandwich down. “Dad, I’m not with Remy anymore. We were just faking it for her terrible ex-boyfriend.”
His brow furrows. “Faking? Is that a new thing your generation does? Like ‘situationships’ or ‘cuffing’ or something?”
A smile tugs at my lips. I can’t believe my dad is using those words, let alone knows them. “No. My point is I was lying to you all along. She’s not my girlfriend. We were doing it for her sister’s wedding. To stick it to her ex,” I say, but that’s hardly the truth. Ah, hell. This is harder than I’d thought. “And I wanted to make you happy. I knew it would make you happy if I were seeing someone.”
He pauses, giving that some thought. “Bullshit.”
I blink. “What?”
“Bullshit you were doing it for me.”
This is not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be disappointed. Instead, he sits taller and looks me right in the eyes. “I don’t think you were faking it.”
I swallow awkwardly, unsure what’s happening. “You’re not going to give me a hard time over lying to you?”
“No, because you weren’t lying to me.”
“I was, Dad,” I insist.
He shakes his head. “I saw the two of you together. You can say you were faking it all you want, but you weren’t. You fell for her, and I’m pretty sure she fell for you too.”
I can’t resist picking up that last one. I’m such a sucker for her. “How do you know?” I ask, my voice pitching up.