I laugh and smile in the right places, doing an excellent job covering up a mini panic attack, but my mother knows me too well.
"Are you ok, Daisy?"
I press a hand to my stomach. "I think maybe I ate too much, too fast. I'm not feeling great."
"You could sleep in the guest room? I'll make it up for you."
She starts to push back her chair, but I stop her with an extended hand. "I think I'll go home. Sleep in my own bed. But I appreciate the offer." I stand up, gathering my napkin and cutlery and plate, bending to brush a swift kiss on my mom's cheek. "I love you, Mom. I'll see you soon."
I stop in the kitchen to load my plate and silverware into the dishwasher. My dad comes up behind me, footfalls padded from his socks.
"Daisy?"
I close the dishwasher and stand up. "Yes, Dad?"
"I don't mean to upset you, but you need to be careful."
"Right. So I don't sully the St. James name. My shiny reputation."
"Well, yes. But also because you're preparing to marry someone we've known for ages. Whose family is almost our family, whether we've always liked it or not. And, hon…" He reaches for my hand, looking at me with so much care it would bring tears to my eyes on a normal day, if I weren't already emotionally wrung out. "If you were to mess up and make a mistake, Duke might forgive it, but Glenn Hampton would never let you forget it."
"Peter is only a friend, Dad. I promise. And he's going back to San Diego as soon as he sells the Bellamy house."
My dad flinches. "Bellamy house?"
"That's why he's here. To clean it up and sell it off."
Something comes over his eyes, an emotion I cannot ascertain. "Daisy…"
"Dad, I love you. I'm going home now."
He watches me go, murmuringI love you, toojust before I walk out.
I drive home, box breathing the whole way. In for four, hold, out for four, hold.
I understand where my dad's coming from. He's trying to protect me, but it's having the opposite effect. I'm feeling choked by expectations, held down by what everyone else wants. The pressure is too much, too great. I want to scream. Cry. Punch something. Do more than impetuously rip out cabinets.
So badly I want a break from all this, from my reality. I want to step outside this world I've set up for myself. I want to say what I want, and do what I want. I want to feel without fear of being judged.
I pass the turn off for my house, but my foot never leaves the gas pedal. I drive down Olive Avenue, passing all the stores. Straight to the other side of town. Two rights, and one left, entering a tidy little subdivision filled with matching houses. Down one street I go, and then the next. A slow crawl past his house.
No truck in the driveway.
Maybe it's for the best.
What would I have done if I saw Peter in this condition? Ripped off my clothes, begged him to separate my body from my mind for a while?
I don't know what to do.
I don't know what not to do.
One thing I know for certain is that eventually, pressure wins.
Chapter 26
Penn
Noelle said the play is based on the movie The Princess Bride. Have you ever heard of it?
