Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
ABBEY
I nervously tap my nails against the cool surface of the kitchen island and stare at the screen of my phone, anxiety filling me. Not because of all the missed calls and texts I received yesterday from Carson, each one becoming more irate.
But because of what I need to do now.
I’ve put it off as long as I could. I took my time eating breakfast. Then enjoyed a relaxing bath, not getting out until my skin had pruned and the water had become tepid. After that, I got dressed in the clothes Jude bought me, surprised he was able to determine my size with such accuracy, including my bra size.
As much as I don’t want to do this, I need money. And a place to live.
Drawing in a deep breath to calm myself, I hit my father’s contact and bring my cell up to my ear, listening to it ring. And ring. And ring.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s deliberately ignoring me.
As I’m about to give up and text him instead, he finally answers.
“Abbey.” His voice is cold and distant, lacking the warmth you’d expect between a father and his daughter.
Then again, I never felt like I was part of his family. To him, I’m merely the result of a mistake he made years ago that he’s been burdened with since my mother dropped me on his doorstep and informed him I was his problem.
“I thought you’d be on your honeymoon by now.”
I don’t miss the hint of accusation in his tone. Or maybe it’s disinterest.
“Yeah, well, change of plans.” I laugh slightly to mask the tremble in my voice.
“What do you mean? Did something happen?”
“You could say that.” I swallow hard. “The wedding never happened.”
The line goes eerily silent for what feels like an eternity. Then he pushes out a long sigh. “Abbey…”
“Carson was cheating on me. With Maia. I walked in on them together ten minutes before the ceremony was supposed to begin.”
“So you just…left?”
This time, I definitely don’t miss the accusation in his tone.
“Of course I left.”
“With all your guests there?”
“What did you expect me to do? Still marry him?”
“I just think there may have been a better way to handle it other than running out and making a scene,” he suggests almost tauntingly. “Then again, you are your mother’s daughter. She always had a flair for the dramatics, too.”
I clench my jaw, in no mood to get into an argument about my mother with him. She’s a sore spot for both us. And he never misses an opportunity to remind me his opinion of me isn’t much better than it is of her.
“I’m not calling for your commentary, Graham,” I retort sharply, using his first name, as I always do.
Calling him Dad would infer some sort of familial bond. We’ve never had that. Hell, I’ve never had that with anyone.
“I need some help.”
Another deep sigh sounds over the line. “Let me guess. You’d like that help to come in the form of money.”
“Yes,” I grit out, hating how this man makes me feel.
“Just like your mother. She only calls when she needs money, too.”
“Carson reported the car he gave me as stolen.”
“You didn’t expect him to let you keep it after you ended things, did you?”
“Honestly, whether I’d be able to keep my car was the last thing I thought about when I walked in on my future husband balls deep in my best friend. I guess I could have interrupted between his grunts and her pleas to fuck her harder.”
“No need to get snippy with me, Abbey. I’m on your side.”
I roll my eyes, grateful he can’t see me.
He loves to claim he’s on my side.
He’s never been on my side.
But I’m not about to delve into how much his actions have affected me.
“Regardless…,” I continue, my voice tight with frustration, “I no longer have a car. Carson also canceled all the credit and debit cards tied to our joint accounts.”
“You still have your own account, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then use that.”
“There’s nothing in it.” My admission hangs heavy in the air. “After I was laid off last year, Carson didn’t want me to stress about finding a job and planning the wedding, so he told me to just focus on the wedding.”
“A mistake, as I’m sure you’re now realizing.”
The tone of his voice makes me feel like I’m one of his employees. Not his own flesh and blood. This is how it’s always been with us. Transactional. Devoid of emotion.
“If you want to berate me later for my poor life choices, feel free to get in line. Right now, I’m stuck in a small town in the middle of nowhere with no car, no money, and nowhere to live.”
It’s a miracle my phone is still on, although I have a feeling that’s only so Carson can continue to inundate me with texts. No doubt he’ll turn it off in the next few days, too.
“I was hoping you could loan me some money for a flight and an Uber to the airport.”
“And after that? Where do you plan on living?”
“I thought I might be able to stay with you and Sharon for a bit. Not long. Just while I figure out what’s next. Maybe a week or two, tops.”
I hate even asking this. Being back in Graham’s house is the last thing I want.
But he’s all I have right now. How pathetic is that?
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Abbey.”
And there it is. The answer I knew would come.
“It’s not that you’re not welcome here. You know you are.”
I fight back the sarcastic laugh begging to be set free. I’ve never been welcome in his home. Even before he kicked me out once I turned eighteen.
“We have a lot going on at the moment. Sharon’s got her hands full with Natalie and the twins. Not to mention the new baby on the way.”
As if on cue, a loud burst of laughter can be heard in the background, followed by the sound of little feet running and children squealing. The happy family I was never allowed to be a part of.
“With all the upcoming changes, I don’t think it’s in the kids’ best interests to have any additional…disruptions.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your perfect life,” I bite out.
“It’s not like that, Abbey. You’re blowing what I said out of proportion.”
“It’s okay. I understand. Forget I brought it up. I’ll let you get on with your day. I’m sure you have important things to do.”
“I’m really sorry, Abbey. But you’ll figure things out. You always do.”
“Yeah. Sure,” I say flatly, pushing down the familiar feelings of rejection and loneliness creeping up inside me. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
I end the call before he has a chance to respond.
If I didn’t need my phone as badly as I do, I might hurl it across the room.
Instead, I stare blankly ahead, trying to brush off our conversation like it’s no big deal. I feel like I did all those years I lived under his roof. Like I’m a guest who’s overstayed her welcome.
Closing my eyes, I swallow through the lump in my throat, willing myself not to cry.
Before Carson came into my life with his false promises of love and stability, this was my reality — being on my own, living as an outsider. It’s what I’ve always known.
Just once, I’d like to feel like I belong somewhere.
Like I have a place to call home.