“Me, too, kiddo. Me fucking too.”
Chapter 18
This week is gonna SUCK
Amelia
Ihave to change my clothes after giving Henry a bath because the little shit not only splashed me but dumped a big ass cup of water over my head. I love him to death, but he is a freaking handful. I often wonder if the rest of us would be here if he had been the firstborn.
At least dealing with Henry helped me avoid Alex.
My thoughts are all over the place. I’m hurt and angry. I miss our banter, our morning pastries and coffee, and our late nights. I miss fixing his tie.
I misshim.
I hate him.
And now he’s here. For a week. A week that ends with a wedding where he gives my best friend away because he’s her father.
Fuck. I thought we were complicated before. But now? My brain is suddenly one of those boards covered in strings connecting a bunch of shit that only serial killers can make sense of.
The house finally quiets down as my siblings and parents go to bed, but it takes me hours to fall asleep.
I wakeup too early for a Sunday during what I’m pretending is an extended vacation.
Only Bean knows I quit. Well, Bean and Alex. Everyone else just thinks I took an extra week off. Whatever it is, it’s too fucking busy to call it a vacation. I haven’t spent a single day relaxing.
Dad’s already up when I walk into the kitchen. He’s been a teacher for twenty-five years and teaches summer school, so he’s always been an early riser, even on the weekends.
“Morning, sweetheart. There’s fresh coffee.” He smiles over his steaming mug.
“Thanks, Dad.” I pour myself a cup and walk out to the back porch, where there’s comfy patio furniture. Dad follows me.
“What are your plans for today?” he asks.
“I’m not sure. I want to get some time in the studio, and there are no classes to work around today. There’s no wedding stuff to do for a few days, either. I promised the Three Musketeers I’d come watch their baseball game later.”
“Hey, invite Lizzie and her dad over for dinner,” he says. My stomach clenches at the mention of Alex, and I try not to flinch. “I want to show him some videos of Lizzie. We both know Tiffany never bothered. Hell, most of the time, she didn’t even go to anything that wasn’t a pageant.”
I curl my lip. No, I know Tiffany rarely sent him anything. Lizzie did sometimes. I remember more than a few times when she asked me to send her a picture or video I’d taken of her so shecould send it to him.
Then, the rest of what Dad said registers. “Dinner?” I ask, like I can’t make sense of the word.
“Yeah. Your mom and I like him. The kids, too. He doesn’t have anyone here but Lizzie, and Lizzie’s over here most of the time anyway, especially with you home. We’d like to get to know him better and give him somewhere other than the hotel to spend some time at. We’ll throw some burgers, dogs, and brats on the grill after the game.”
“I’ll let Bean know. I think she’s planning on going to the game anyway.” Dad nods, and I head inside. It’s still early. There’s no way Bean’s up yet. Alex probably is…Ugh, stop thinking about him!
It’s so tempting to unblock him and look at the text messages he sent. To listen to the voicemail he left. But I don’t.
Instead, I jump in my car and drive to the dance studio. I swing into the coffee shop next door first, where Gloria makes me a peppermint white chocolate mocha and gives me a hug. She’s owned Coffee Glo for longer than I can remember and is always up for a hug. Or a scolding, depending on things.
Coffee in hand, I unlock the door to the studio and throw a few flakes to the resident goldfish Marty—who is not the original Marty, no matter what Teacher Angela says—on my way past the front desk.
There are five dance spaces to choose from, but my favorite has big windows that let in the natural sunlight. I connect my phone to the sound system and start warming up.
Two hours later, I’m cooling down. And as if she’s watching me, my phone dings with a text from my best friend.
Bean
