Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85484 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
“Fuck off,” I shout.
“Buckle up,” he shouts back.
I shake my head and go back inside.
And I lock the door again.
Make it until morning. All things will be okay in the morning.
18
PIPPA
“Naturally, the one day I have off work, you decide to take a vacation with your new boyfriend,” Kerissa says.
I put her on speakerphone and set it on the bed. Then I continue shuffling through my drawers for a lime-green bikini I know I own but can’t seem to locate.
“We could go out to lunch, do a little shopping … grab a latte and hit the bookstore,” she says.
I laugh. “Lattes and bookstores? Pick me up in twenty. Forget Jess.”
She laughs too. “What time are you guys leaving?”
“Soon. We can’t check in until four, but he wanted to leave at eight this morning.”
“Aw. That’s sweet.”
I grin. It is.
I’m surprised he let me talk him into a delayed departure. I’m even more surprised that I talked him into one. While I did have a lot of things to do before we leave, the hedonist in me threatened to say screw it and stay with him last night … and screw him.
Knowing he’s alone and wanting to be with me is a hard thing to fight against.
But I busied myself with tasks instead—paying a few bills, sending emails to keep the ball rolling at work while I’m away, and using up the rest of the fresh food in my kitchen that will go bad by the time I get home. I kept reminding myself that I’m happy to play along with his real chance at making me fall for him, but I have to keep my head on straight. Enjoy the attention, sure. But I must remember that this is a ticket to paradise with an expiration date.
I can’t go all in.
Even though, in a perfect world, I’d dive in headfirst.
“When do you start at the Tourism Board?” I ask.
“Monday. I have today off—well, kind of off. I met Jovie for breakfast to go over a few things for my new position. We were supposed to have a meeting with Halcyon this afternoon, but they canceled. I don’t know if I was supposed to go back to work or not, but no one is expecting me there so I’m not going.”
“Fair.” I glance down at the screen. “Hey, I need to call you later. There’s a number calling that I don’t recognize, and it could be about work.”
“Don’t worry about it. Go take care of your stuff. Call me as soon as you get back from your trip with all the sordid details.”
I laugh. “I will. Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
I grab the phone, taking it off the speaker, and say hello.
“Hello, Philippa.”
My stomach churns. Seriously, Universe?
I spot the string of my bikini under a tote bag—why the heck is it there?—and pull it out.
“Hi, Mother,” I say with as much sweetness as I can inject without puking. “Two calls in one week? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I thought our conversation last week constituted a follow-up.”
I toss the swimsuit in my suitcase and sigh. “Did you?”
“Philippa …” She sighs right back at me. “I will never understand why you refuse to allow your father and me to help you in life.”
“Excuse me? What are you talking about?”
My blood pressure soars because I know where this is going.
I rub my forehead, wishing I hadn’t picked up. But the irony of her calling on the one day in years that I’ve woken up with an almost joy isn’t lost on me.
And I hate that—for me … and for her.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she says, the words snappy. “I haven’t interfered in your life in ages, and I’d hoped that maybe you’d grown up. Maybe you had run the defiance that’s nearly ruined your life out of your system.”
My mouth gapes.
“Can you imagine how it feels to have the head of one of the largest nonprofits in the country ask you about your children? And you have to tell them that, yes, you have a daughter and, yes, she chooses to waste the tools we equipped her with to play matchmaker?”
I stare into the mirror, not sure where to even start.
“Don’t worry,” she snarks. “I didn’t put it to her like that. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
I laugh sadly. “No, Mom, you didn’t want to embarrass you.”
My breath holds in my chest while I wait for her to correct me. I can’t help but hope that she’ll backtrack and explain that I’ve misunderstood. To say I don’t embarrass her.
But I know deep in my gut that the clarification won’t come. There is no such thing as emotional nurturing in the Plum household.
A swell of emotion rises in my chest, and I blink back tears. I won’t cry over her. Not anymore.
“You know what’s funny?” I say, my voice clouded.