Chapter 26
Lauren
The sound of my steps echoes against the bare walls of my old apartment as I carry an empty box to what used to be my bedroom. For a moment, I stop in the middle of the almost empty bedroom.
It’s bittersweet to be back here. After finding a place as warm and welcoming as Wayward Hollow, being back in L.A. feels wrong. Like stepping out of a hug into a snowstorm.
Yet, there are many amazing memories tied to this place. The first movie I got cast in. My first award show. Many movie premieres.
But I don’t miss them. Reminiscing about the past has a way of happening through rose-colored glasses. Yes, movie premieres were fun. The months of ten-hour workdays? Not that much.
It’s such a stark contrast. In Wayward Hollow, my neighbors are my best friends. But here? I don’t think I’ve ever even met the people who live next door to me.
I can’t wait to get back.
“This is such a nice view,” Nic says, suddenly appearing beside me and walking over to the ceiling-high windows.
“I bet the sunsets here were amazing.” She’s right.
My bedroom has an amazing view of Los Angeles.
At night, skyscrapers glow in the distance, and watching cars drive on the busy streets was my version of counting sheep for years.
“Not as good as at home though.” I set down the box and walk over to her. “I prefer the mountain view to skyscrapers.”
We stay there for a while. Watching as people walk by, cars inch their way down busy streets and planes land in the distance.
“You should have asked me to come along,” Nic whispers and nudges me with her elbow. “Instead of making me chase after you and catching you and Caleb making out. Then again, that wouldn’t have been as entertaining though, so I forgive you this time.”
I know that. Logically, I know that. But after all these years of dealing with tough shit on my own, it’s hard to break through those patterns.
Our friendship used to be long distance for about ninety percent of the time.
Both of us were busy with our schedules and often on opposite ends of the world.
Having her in my life and close is wonderful, but something I have yet to get used to.
When I don’t answer, Nic narrows her eyes at me.
“Seriously, Lauren. You saved my ass when all the drama with Jay popped up. You can ask me for support too, you know. God forbid I get to help out my friend, who packed up her whole life to help me fix mine at the drop of a hat.”
“But that would derail my plan.”
“What plan?” She looks at me, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“The plan where I make you indebted to me forever and strike at the most opportune time to make you, I don’t know, help me bury a body or something.” I tap the tips of my fingers together, pretending to be a Bond villain revealing my grand plan for world domination.
“I don’t need to be indebted to you to help you hide a body.” She rolls her eyes. “That’s what best friends are for.” She picks up a pillow from the ground and throws it my way. “Now, when is your dad picking you up again?”
I grimace. Right. My dad. I successfully forgot about him for about three minutes.
“In about half an hour,” I tell her, checking my watch. “Listen, talking about hiding bodies and all that, can we enforce the first-date code?”
“I’m sure we can. If you tell me what that is.”
I chuckle and fold one of my million blankets to place it in my cardboard box.
“It means you call me after like 45 minutes so if I want to leave, I can pretend some kind of emergency came up and get the fuck out of there.”
“Oh yeah. Of course,” she assures me, giving my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “While you’re gone, I’ll pack up the rest of your wardrobe, if that’s okay.”
“Yes, yes.” I wave my hand through the air. “Honestly, put all of it in donation bins. All the clothes I left here are way too fancy to wear at home. Unless we’re planning on sashaying through the streets of Wayward Hollow in Chanel, I don’t have a use for them anymore.”
“I still have some too.” She taps her lips. “You know what? Let me get in touch with Joel, my old manager, and have him organize a charity auction or donate them to one. They’ll find new, hopefully appreciative owners, and we can up our karma points.”
“As if we need to.” I roll my eyes, reaching for another blanket to fold. Damn, I never realized my ‘I’m getting cold on the plane and forgot to bring a blanket, I’ll just buy a new one’ collection got this big.
“I mean, I did put my ex and my sister in jail,” Nic reminds me, a grin tugging at her lips. “I’ll take them.”
“Please.” I scoff and flick her shoulder. “They managed to get there all by themselves.”
My phone rings. Before I realize it’s happening, my face is already twisted into a grimace.
“I guess that’s my dad letting me know he’s fifteen minutes early.” I let out a deep sigh. I should have known he’d pull this move. “Wish me luck.”
“Good luck.” She gives me a quick hug. “I’ll call you in an hour from now.”
“Thank you, Nic.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you for tagging along. It’s good to have you with me.”
“Of all the things not to thank me for, this is top of the list. This is bestie minimum. Now go. Get it over with.” She punches my shoulder playfully, then puts her hands on my shoulders to turn me around and walk me to my front door.
“So, what’s the occasion?” I ask my dad as soon as my butt touches the restaurant chair.
The drive here was awkward, overshadowed by silence. Like always, when I asked him how he’s doing, I got a one-word answer, and I can count the number of times he’s ever asked me something back on one fist.
“That is main-course conversation.”
“Of course it is,” I sigh and reach for the cloth napkin, unfold it and lay it across my lap.
I’m not sure why he wanted us to come to a fancy three-course restaurant. I would have been fine with the small Chinese spot around the corner from my home. Though I can’t imagine my crisp ironed shirt meets pressed trousers dad in a fast-food joint.
Only thirty-seven minutes to go until Nic’s call and I’m already annoyed. Time to break the topic I know he can talk forever about, right as the server sets down the preordered first course in front of me. Yay. Salad. “How are things at work?”
“Oh, you know…” Thankfully, my question prompts him into a rant about the incompetent people he works with, a new hire they have who dares leave as soon as their eight hours are up, and the incompetence of their clients.
“Uh-huh.” I nod along while chomping on the salad he orders for the first course. “Totally.”
I’m still not sure why he wanted to meet up with me. If I had wanted to witness a boomer rant about the work ethic of today’s youth, I could have spent 30 minutes on Facebook instead of wasting time I could be spending packing.
I just want to go home again to Caleb and my cats, and all of my friends, knowing I’ll never have to come back here.
“Thank you.” I smile at the waiter as he takes away my empty plate, immediately replacing it with the main course. Because that’s the kind of fancy place this is. Where people watch you eat, ready to swoop in the second both guests set down their forks.
“So, we’re at the main course,” I point out and subtly check my wrist. Twenty-eight more minutes. “Talk.”
“Your mother and I are getting a divorce,” he drops nonchalantly, not missing a beat as he picks up his fork and knife to cut open the fish.
“Wait, what?”
Also, fish? I stare at my plate and slowly let out my breath. I haven’t eaten fish in almost twenty years, ever since I ate one that still had a bunch of tiny bones in it. It wasn’t even the flavor that was the issue, but I hate chewing and encountering unknown textures with a passion.
“A divorce?” I ask him, crossing my arms in front of my chest. “Okay, that’s quite the bombshell.” I rub my palm over my face and let out a deep breath. “Congratulations or I’m sorry, I guess. Thank you for telling me. Is that what was so important you had to meet up with me?”
“I think important changes such as these are best discussed face to face.” He clears his throat. “But let me cut to the chase.” And there it is. I knew there had to be a deeper agenda. “She is contesting our prenup, and I would appreciate your help.”
What? I look up from my plate, where I was pushing potatoes around with my fork. Is he serious?
“The fuck is my help going to do?” I set down my fork before I become the new topic of a murder podcast.
“Mind your tone, young lady.”
“Yeah, no.” I shake my head and put the napkin from my lap onto the table. Even the thought of food is almost enough to make me throw up all of a sudden. “You don’t get to ask for my help on this.”
“Why? You’re my daughter, Lauren. Family is supposed to help each other.”
“I guess they are.” I force my face into a tight smile. “Which is exactly why I’m going to tell you the exact same thing that you have told me for half my life. I will not be taking any sides in this. You're adults, sort it out amongst yourselves. I’m staying out of it.”
“What do you mean by that? And you should eat your food before it gets cold.” My eyes dart over his face as I bite back a snide reply. Is he seriously this oblivious? That much of a hypocrite? Or does he only care this little?
“It means that for the past twenty-nine years, you’ve managed to dodge any actual parenting by waving your little ‘I’m not taking sides’ flag.
Which, sure, sounds very Switzerland of you, but it also meant that mom got to run the whole operation.
You gave her free rein to ignore my wants, my needs, my dreams and let her do whatever she wanted to fulfill her grand plan of turning me into a Stepford wife instead of what I actually wanted. ”
I shake my head, my heart beating into my throat, clammy hands resting on my jeans-clad thighs.
I will never forget the day Mom pulled me out of theater class, the one thing that made me excited for school, because she found it childish and it clashed with an etiquette class she signed me up for.
Whatever she’s trying to pull on him, I just can’t find it in me to care.
“I will not be getting into this. You two are grown-ups. You can deal with this among yourselves.”
“But you don’t understand—”
“Oh, I understand it awfully well,” I say coldly and shift in my seat.
“I know exactly what kind of person mother is. I don’t need to be involved in your little—” I wave my hand vaguely through the air, “situation to see what she’s trying to pull.
I’ve been trying to tell you what she was like for years, but you’ve never bothered to listen.
Hell, you never even bothered to learn that I don’t eat fish.
” I nod towards the plate in front of me. I take a deep breath.
Why am I even bothering? I can yap for hours about how hypocritical his demand is. He hasn’t listened to me in the past, so he’s not going to start now.
“I hope the divorce gives you both what you’re searching for and what you deserve.” I get up.
“Lauren, wait—”
“No.” I shake my head and stay on my feet by the table.
“You’re my dad, and I love you, but you failed me.
If you’re trying to make things right now, you can start by earning my trust before asking me for favors.
But this?” I point between the two of us.
“That’s not the kind of thing you open the ‘Hey, I messed up. Let’s fix things’ conversation with.
Get yourself a cutthroat lawyer and let them deal with mother. But keep me out of this.”
He opens his mouth to speak, but I don’t want to hear it. Without another word, I grab my coat and rush out of the restaurant, only stopping once the fresh air hits my face.
“Fuck.” I curse and stomp my foot for lack of anything to kick. Oh, what I would give for a lovely, kickable pile of snow.
My phone suddenly blares from my pocket.
“Hey, Nic,” I greet her surprisingly jolly. “Can you order us an emotional-eating dessert special? I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
“Gotcha.”
I hang up and let the phone slide back into my pocket.
Of all the ways I thought this day would go, this was not on my bingo card. I’m waiting for the heartache that is supposed to come when you learn your parents are splitting, but there’s nothing.
Does that make me a bad person?
Then again, they’re the ones who replaced me. He couldn’t stand up for me on Thanksgiving or when they took Maisie and her family to Disneyland, but now he wants me on his side.
The more I think about it, the more my blood boils.
Deep breaths, Lauren. They’re not worth the anger. I let out a deep sigh and turn right, deciding to walk to my apartment that I refuse to call ‘home’ anymore.