Chapter 4
Chapter Four
C arys
“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, then ring the doorbell.
A random wooden chair with a pale blue cushion is next to the window on my left. A porch swing sways gently in the evening breeze to my right. Ferns hang from the ceiling, and a windchime floats lazily from a shepherd’s hook by the stairs.
Dad’s new house he bought almost a year ago when he married Aurora is cute. Homey, even.
It’s too bad that my father has never lived anywhere that felt like home to me.
“Hey.” Aurora smiles brightly as she pulls open the door. She’s barefooted with perfectly manicured toes. A yellow sundress highlights her raven-hued hair that she has pulled up in an elegant knot, and her eyes shine as she invites me inside. “Your father and I are so happy you could make it over for dinner.”
I know she didn’t mean anything by saying your father and I , but it really prickles my self-consciousness. I’m the outsider here. Thanks for reminding me.
“I’m happy to be here.” I return her smile, wondering if hers is real or as forced as mine. “Something smells great.”
She runs a hand through the air. “Oh, that’s your great-grandma’s pot roast recipe. I found it stuck in a book when I was setting up the den. Your dad can’t get enough of it.”
Her laughter fills the cozy entryway.
Aurora is hard to dislike, and sadly, I’ve tried. Life would be so much easier if she were despicable. Instead, she’s beautiful and kind—a true double whammy. Thanks to a late-night detective session that Tate unwillingly participated in, I know she’s forty and works as a cosmetologist at a downtown salon. I also discovered she was a cheerleader for a professional football team in her early twenties.
I can’t help but wonder if we met under different circumstances if we’d be friends.
“Kent called, and he’s running late,” Aurora says, leading me into the kitchen. “He should be home soon. Would you like a drink? A glass of wine, perhaps?”
“I’d love a glass of wine, actually.”
“Of course. I just found a red from New Zealand that I’m obsessed with. Do you like red wine? I have white if not.”
“After the day I’ve had, I’ll take anything.”
She flashes me a perfect smile before selecting a bottle from her wine cooler. “Sounds like you had a more interesting day than I did.”
“I don’t know what your afternoon consisted of, but mine included a driver’s license, spilled matcha latte, and cleavage.” I still can’t believe I offered to show Gannon my cleavage. “Let’s just say it wasn’t my most graceful afternoon.”
“I was right. Your afternoon was more interesting than mine.” She laughs. “Mine consisted of a pot roast—not this one, floor wax, and lots and lots of tears.”
Tears? “Oh no. I’m sorry. That sounds bad.”
She winces. “It was. I slipped on the floor wax while carrying the roast and fell. Hard. I have an ugly bruise down the right side of my back. I’m hoping this wine will help take the edge off.”
“I have some pain reliever in my car. Do you want me to get it?”
Her eyes soften. “You’re too sweet. I took something a couple of hours ago. As long as I keep moving, I’ll be okay. It’s when you stop that everything freezes up.”
“This is why you shouldn’t wax your floors. That’s one step too far.”
“Your father likes them shiny, and I wanted them to look nice for you.”
We exchange a smile. Yeah, we’d be friends if she wasn’t married to my dad.
She holds her glass up in the air. “Let’s toast to our coordination. May tomorrow be a better day.”
“Let’s hope,” I say, touching my glass to hers.
Aurora takes a sip and then sets her drink gently on the counter. “I know you just got here, and I hate to do this, but your father got ready in the bathroom down here this morning, and I’ve been moving a little slow today. Would you mind me excusing myself to give the counters a quick wipe?”
I set my glass down, too. “Let me do it.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You literally fell this morning. I?—”
“It’ll take me a minute, and then I won’t worry that you’ll need to use the bathroom and see the mess.”
“Aurora, really. Please let me help you. Or just leave the mess, and I promise not to use the bathroom.”
She moves around the corner of the bar. “Please, you’re our guest. Enjoy your wine. I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home, Carys.”
Make yourself at home. That’s something that’s never been said at Dad’s house before.
We exchange a small, simple smile before she disappears down the hallway. It’s … nice.
Once she’s gone, the kitchen is too quiet, and I feel too uncomfortable to sit still. The pot roast—apparently a family favorite—is too fragrant, and the idea of it is too heavy. How did I never know this? Did no one think that maybe my great-grandma’s actual descendant would want a copy?
I get to my feet and make my way down the hallway toward the foyer.
“You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” Aurora asks from a half bath tucked beneath the stairs.
“I don’t.”
“I should’ve asked before you came, but I didn’t have your number, and Kent kept forgetting to give it to me. Maybe we could swap numbers before you leave?”
A smile ghosts my lips. It took a year of marriage to get to the numbers-swapping point, but hey—it’s progress. And that progress helps me relax a little. “That would be great.”
My shoulders soften, and I exhale softly. Families are complicated.
“I love what you’ve done with this place,” I call out to Aurora while admiring a beautiful chandelier overhead.
“It’s not finished by any means. I’ve been picking at it on my days off work. It’s a challenge to mesh my style with Kent’s. I’m bohemian farmhouse, if that’s a thing. And he’s … messy bachelor.”
Our laughter blends, bringing me a bit more at ease.
I spy a gallery wall in the adjacent living room and make my way there. Silver frames of all sizes cover one wall. One by one, I take in the photographs—smiling faces captured across time and the world. Dad and Aurora in Vegas. Aurora in Paris. Dad at a lake with his head tipped back in laughter. There are pictures of them with people I don’t know and intimate photographs of them in front of a fireplace.
Their life is happy and full, and I’m thrilled for them. But a part of me is bitter that there isn’t a place for me in their world beyond random dinners here and there. Worst of all? I feel guilty that I feel bitter about it.
Maybe it’s life that’s complicated.
My throat constricts, and I clench my wineglass tighter.
“Crap,” I whisper, my buzzing phone in my pocket making me jump. “I thought I left this in the car.”
I pull the device out and see Tate’s name on the screen.
Tate: So how’s it going over there, buttercup?
Me: Dad’s not even here.
Tate: Is Aurora being nice?
Me: Oh, she’s always nice. It’s just … weird. It feels so performative, you know? None of us really wants to be doing this. So why are we?
Tate: Want me to pick you up? We can grab dinner at the karaoke bar and heckle the singers.
Me:
Tate: I offered.
The back door closes, and Dad’s voice trickles into the foyer. It sends a flurry of adrenaline through my veins. Here we go.
Me: Dad just got here. Wish me luck.
Tate: If it gets out of hand, text me. I’ll come with my charm and de-pants your hot stepmommy.
Me:
I take a quick gulp of wine and make my way back into the kitchen.
“No, it’s okay,” Aurora says as my father inspects her side. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you were at work, and it’s not like I was dying.” Her giggle is sweet as she scoops my father’s face up in her hands. “How was your day?”
I pause in the doorway and take in the scene in front of me. Aurora wrapped up in my father’s arms, facing him. My father, dressed in a black dress shirt and dark jeans, gazing into her eyes. They whisper back and forth as if sharing secrets. A smile slips across my face as I watch them.
“Hi,” I say, giving them a little wave. “I hate to interrupt, but it feels creepy to stand here and gawk.”
Aurora steps back from Dad, her cheeks flushed. “I need to run upstairs and grab a pain patch. You two need a few minutes to catch up anyway.”
Dad takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly as he faces me. Once Aurora is gone, he gives me a tight smile.
“Hello, Carys,” he says, coming to me. “How have you been?”
He pulls me into a one-armed hug that’s awkward enough to make me wish he hadn’t bothered at all.
“Hey, Dad. I’m good.” I pull away. “How are you?”
“Good, good. Been working a lot and trying to get settled here in the new house. Aurora always has a list of honey-do projects for me.”
He turns toward the cupboard and retrieves a wineglass.
“You guys have this place looking great,” I say as he pours himself a drink. “The curb appeal is awesome. It’s so cozy and inviting, too.”
“That’s all Aurora’s doing. She’s got an eye for design.”
I nod because I don’t know what else to say.
“She’s a real go-getter,” he says. “She’s turning clients down left and right at The Luxe. There’s a waiting list. At a salon . Can you believe that?” He smiles brightly, shaking his head. “I’m so proud of that woman.”
“You should be. She’s pretty awesome.”
“I got lucky as hell with that one.” He takes a long drink, watching the doorway. “What about you? How’s your little endeavor working out?”
My little endeavor …
I lift my chin, my pride wounded. I’m glad he knows every detail about Aurora’s business. He should. She’s his wife. But I have doubts he even knows Plantcy’s name. And I’m more doubtful that he cares.
If we had an actual father-daughter relationship, I’d tell him the truth—that I’m in the growing pains of being a business owner. I’d admit that I jumped ship from the insurance company too soon. That I’m scared my dream of caring for plants might not come to fruition.
But how do I say that when he’s bragging about Aurora’s success?
“It’s going great. You wouldn’t believe the number of people who need in-home plant care.” I pause, and then my mouth keeps going. “I’m actually expanding at the moment.”
He looks at me as if I’m full of shit. “Expanding, huh? To what?”
“Corporations,” I say, my stomach squirming. “I had a meeting with the president of a major corporation this afternoon. Things are really looking up for me.”
Dad hums before taking another long drink. He looks bored as hell, and his eyes only light up when Aurora returns.
The realization that my fear was right—he doesn’t care whether I’m here or not—is crushing. My chest aches, and tears burn in my eyes. This is what happens when I give him access to me.
Every freaking time.
“Are we ready to eat?” Aurora asks.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dad follows her to the oven, disregarding her question. “I’d feel a hell of a lot better about this if we got you checked out.”
“Kent, I’m fine.”
“Let’s turn the oven off and run to Urgent Care. Dinner can wait.”
“Kent …”
Aurora looks up, catching my attention. The look she offers me is apologetic, but all I can offer her in return is a shrug. She might be surprised by Dad’s offer to blow off dinner, but I’m not.
“I need to answer this call,” I lie, needing some air. “I’ll just step outside for a moment. Excuse me.”
“I mean it, honey,” Dad says, oblivious to my statement. “Let’s get you checked out.”
My steps fall gingerly as I head down the hallway and through the foyer. Tears dot my eyes as I step onto the porch.
Why? Why do I put myself through this? Why do I let him do this to me?
I grip the railing and take a deep breath, willing my tears not to fall.
“How is your little endeavor working out?”
My world feels perilously close to spinning out of control. I just need one thing to stop—one good, solid thing to focus on. And out of all the things in the world, only one thing comes to mind.
Gannon Brewer could kill not two, but three birds with one stone.
I dig my phone out of my pocket and pull up my contact list, quickly finding the number I programmed in this afternoon. My fingers fly over the keys, fueled by my need to go back inside with good news to share.
Me: It was nice meeting you today. I hope you’ve had time to reconsider my offer. I’d love to schedule dinner with you as soon as your schedule allows to discuss things further.
I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
My hand trembles as I stare at the phone, unsure if Gannon will even respond. He probably left the card I gave him in his pocket and didn’t think twice about it. But as I start to put my phone away, it buzzes.
A sliver of excitement and apprehension slides through me as I look at the screen.
Gannon: My schedule is full.
I stare at the sentence. Of course, his schedule is full. He’s a busy man. What did I expect him to say?
I read his message again.
For some reason I can’t pinpoint, this doesn’t feel final. It feels like a challenge. A game of cat and mouse.
My favorite.
Me: Fair. How about a working lunch?
Gannon: What part of my last message did you not understand?
Me: The FULL part. I only need five minutes alone with you.
Fuck . I bite my lip, trying to figure out how to get my foot out of my mouth. Maybe he won’t read it in a punny sort of way.
Gannon: I’ll admit that I’ve never been propositioned quite like this.
My cheeks blaze.
Me: I have an incredibly unique skill set. You should see what I can do with a little moisture and good lighting.
Gannon: Do you ever quit?
Me: No.
I wait one minute, and then two. Nothing. Yeah, I’m gonna regret these later.
Enough time goes by that I check both of my email accounts, do a quick scroll of Social, and respond to a text from my mother that I’ll call her later. I’m about to give up when I’m alerted to a new text.
Gannon: 5:30 at Tapo’s.
Tapo’s ? I balk. Tapo’s is a fancy breakfast spot. Surely, that’s a mistake.
Me: 5:30 in the morning?
Gannon: You can have your five minutes over breakfast. Take it or leave it.
My thumbs hit the keys, ready to ask him if he’s kidding because five thirty in the morning is asinine.
But then I stop.
Because he’s not kidding. He’s trying to make me back down and give up.
“Not happening, Mr. Brewer,” I say, typing out my reply.
Me: That’s so generous of you. I’ll see you bright and early!
He doesn’t respond, and although I want him to reply, we should end it here. Besides, I need to go share my good news with the family.
“Right.”
I snort and head back inside.