“I agree.”
“Can’t wait to meet him.”
“Awesome. I’m so glad I finally found a man who actually wants me,” she snaps. “Now get out of here. I need to shower.”
She snatches a clean towel folded on the dresser and stomps into the adjoining bathroom, slamming the door. After a moment, I can hear the water starting.
I lean back against the door and slump down against it. I’ll admit, I was pissed off when I walked in, but I wanted things smoothed over. IwantedPippa laughing, brushing off everything, and letting me carry her back to my bed.
Instead, I had to keep digging a fucking hole. I pretty much drove her into Jacob’s arms, all by myself.
Happy fucking New Year’s to me.
31
PIPPA
Ishove a forkful of cherry pie into my mouth, humming with satisfaction at the cloying sweetness.
Across the table, Dad laughs. “You know they serve the worst pies in the city here, don’t you?”
“Libel. Slander. Purposeful misinformation,” I sniff.
Sherry’s Diner is the best dessert purveyor in the Toronto area, if you ask me. It’s also Dad and my special place, the restaurant we always went to for burgers and vanilla milkshakes after my Wednesday art classes. Their dated, dingy booths and basic greasy-spoon menus haven’t been updated since before I was born. Dad might complain relentlessly about their food, but I know he doesn’t mean it. I’ve watched him polish off way too much pie for it to ever be true.
After last night’s fight with Ryan, I needed this—a chance to finally catch up with the uncomplicated half of my parental units, with a side of delicious pie to go with it.
“Thanks for the belated Christmas celebration, Dad.”
“I’m just glad you could fit me in before the new year.” He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. With his brown beard and penchant for red flannel shirts, Dad has alwaysreminded me of the Brawny paper towel man. Now, there’s a little gray in his beard and more lines around his blue eyes, but he still looks ready to grab an ax and head out into the forest.
“I’m sorry I forgot your present back at home,” he says. “I feel like an idiot. It’s sitting right there on the kitchen counter.”
“That’s okay. It just gives us another reason to come back here for more pie, so you can give it to me.”
The waitress appears at the table with our check, and Dad slides her his credit card. “Can we get a refill on coffee, please?” he asks.
“Sure thing, hon.”
She bustles away, and Dad grabs his fork to get a bite of my pie. I gasp in mock outrage. “I thought you said that pie was terrible!”
He shrugs. “It’s still pie. Terrible pie is better than no pie at all.”
I pull the plate back toward me. “Uh-uh. You don’t get to insult my desert, then take as much as you want.”
“Yes, I do. I raised you, young lady. I changed your diapers.”
“You can’t just use that as an excuse to take advantage of me all the time.”
“Actually, it means I?—”
He trails off as the server returns, no coffeepot in hand. Her face is red, and she can’t meet our eyes. “I’m sorry, sir, but your card was declined.”
Dad blinks. “Did you run it again?”
She blushes even deeper. “I did. I’m sorry.”
I dig into my purse for my wallet. “Must be a bank mix-up. Here, I can cover it.” The server gratefully takes the card from my hand. I turn back to Dad, expecting him to be smugly helping himself to another bite of pie. Instead, I find him frozen, his face wan.
