Chapter 29
CAROLINE
The drive into the city does nothing to calm me down; it only gives me a chance to stew and get more worked up.
Maybe it’s the heartbreak of the last few weeks, or maybe the lifetime of bending to my parents’ will, but I’m exhausted.
And, while my personal demons aren’t contained in a liquor bottle, what I said to Miles still applies to me too: I owe it to myself to keep—or rather, start—fighting.
When I get to the house, I head straight for Dad’s office and barge inside.
“You think you can just decide where Grandpa lives?” I stride across the room, closing in on his obnoxiously huge desk. “Without even asking him? Or me?”
“I’ll have to call you back.” He hangs up the phone. “Caroline…”
“Where do you get off, thinking you know what’s best?”
Dad puts his hands up as if trying to slow me down. “Sweetheart, what’s gotten into you?”
“Caroline.” My mother’s voice comes from behind me. “I heard shouting. What are you doing here?”
My eyes jump between my parents as Mom drifts into the room. “You don’t care about Grandpa or what he wants, do you?”
Dad stands. “Alright, now stop being dramatic and calm down.”
“I’m not being dramatic!” I grit out—okay, maybe a touch dramatically. “Grandpa doesn’t want to move to Seattle. Why would you think he would?”
“Of course we care about your grandfather,” Mom says. “That’s why we want to find him the best care possible. And, as for location, Seattle has more options and it’s more convenient. We’re here, and living in a care home won’t be that different for him, whether it’s in Lennox Valley or the city.”
“Lennox Valley is his home.” I stare at my mother. Has she really forgotten growing up there? “Just like it’s my home now.”
“Jesus,” is all my father says.
I round on him. “Don’t.”
“Caroline,” he says, having the nerve to sound exasperated. “The whole point of you moving there was to help George. That’s over now, so you can get back to reality. Back to your life here.”
“You think Grandpa was my only reason for moving away from here? Away from you?” I shake my head in disbelief. “I worked my butt off for you, Dad. For as long as I can remember. And it was never enough. I was suffocating here.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “We gave you everything you could ever ask for.”
“Yeah, everything except your basic fucking respect.”
“Caroline,” Mom cautions. “Language.”
“Stop!” I nearly groan the word. “Stop trying to fit me into some neat little presentable box! In case you haven’t noticed, I’m an adult.
I can manage my own life. So, unless you’re gonna support that, stay the hell out of it.
I’m done with being your photo op or your…
”—I search for the right term—“trophy child.”
“Trophy child?” Dad drags a hand through his gray hair. “And you think you’re not being dramatic. Unbelievable.”
“No, Dad. What’s unbelievable is how you can’t stop downplaying and undermining the life I’ve made in Lennox because you think this is some kind of childish rebellion.
Or that you can get me back to doing your bidding.
I’ve got friends, a home, a job, a life there, Dad.
People who actually care about me. Love me. ”
He holds up a hand. “If this is about that ridiculous fling of yours—”
I scoff, his dismissive words only stoking my rage.
He raises his voice. “You think you’ve found yourself some fairy tale? He’s a drunk, Caroline!”
He did know.
“He’s sober, Dad! No thanks to your cruel bullshit on election night! What is wrong with you?”
“Caroline,” Mom cautions again, but I ignore her.
“I don’t know why you’re defending someone like him,” Dad says.
“Someone like him?” I echo. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“As I’ve said, he’s not on your level. Our level.”
“If this”—I gesture between my parents—“is our level? You can keep it. Hard pass.”
“Now, listen—”
I cut him off, recoiling. “On our level. Gross. What, like Fletcher? Look how that turned out.”
“It could have turned out differently if you hadn’t pulled this temper tantrum—”
“He cheated on me! Repeatedly! And he barely made an effort to hide it. All I had to do was pick up his work phone and it was all there, plain as day. Real A-plus character, that Fletcher.”
“That damn phone,” Dad grumbles, sitting back down. “I always told him to be more careful with—” He cuts himself off and I stiffen.
“More careful with what, Dad?”
Guilt flickers across his features before he breaks eye contact, clenching his jaw.
The blood drains from my face. “You knew.”
When he doesn’t deny it, it’s as good a confirmation as any.
Betrayal slices into me. “I can’t believe this. You knew all along.”
“Peter, is this true?” Mom asks, blinking in obvious shock. “You knew about Fletcher’s”—she pauses, choosing her words delicately—“indiscretions?”
Dad doesn’t respond, keeping his gaze trained on me. “Look, Caroline, he made some mistakes.”
“Oh, yeah,” I say through a joyless smile. “Boys will be boys, right?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Didn’t have to.” Disgust knots my throat. “You would’ve let me marry him.”
“Sweetheart—” Mom starts, like she’s torn between comforting me and arguing with Dad.
“Save it.” I cross the room and yank open the door, then think better of it and whirl back to face my father. “And I know about you threatening Miles.”
The glance he casts at Mom is telling. Yet another piece of information she was in the dark about, I guess.
“You did what?” Mom asks, but I can’t deal with her milquetoast level of surprise right now.
I step past her to get in Dad’s face. “I’m gonna be very clear,” I say. “If you so much as breathe near Miles or his job, we’re done. Mess with him in any way and you’ve lost me for good.”
“Sweetie, you’re getting carried away,” Mom says. “You’re saying things you don’t mean.”
I turn to my mother, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, I’m dead serious.”
“Enough!” Dad shouts, only bristling when my angry gaze snaps his way. “You think you can just go it alone?”
“Gladly!” I throw my hands out at my sides. “Don’t you see that’s what I’ve been trying to do this entire time? Live my own life? For me?”
“What I see is a tantrum.” Dad jabs a finger against his desk. “I see my daughter laughing in the face of everything she was given so she can skip off into the sunset with a deadbeat. This nonsense ends now, Caroline. You’re moving home.”
“I have a home!” I fire back, disappointment sinking deep in my gut as I realize Grandpa knew this would happen. “And it sure as hell isn’t here.”
“George no longer requires assistance, Caroline,” Dad says. “His house will be put up for sale.”
“No, it won’t.” I shake my head. “I’d never sell that house.”
Dad’s brows draw together. “What the hell are you talking about? It’s not your decision to make.”
“It is now.”
The confusion marring Dad’s expression would be delicious if I wasn’t so nauseated by this entire conversation.
“Grandpa’s given me the house.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Well, unlike you, Dad, he cares about what actually makes me happy.”
“Christ.” Dad closes his eyes for a moment and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“And, unlike you, I care about what makes him happy too. So I’ll be handling his care going forward. I’ll find him a place to live—a place he wants to be.”
“Caroline, you can’t—”
“Fucking try me, Dad.” I clench my jaw as a tear slips down my cheek, begging my voice not to break. “I’m done putting up with your meddling, toxic bullshit.”
“Toxic?” Dad balks. “I’ve worked my whole career to support this family. Always done what’s best for you.”
“Oh, was it best for me when you let my fiancé disrespect me? Humiliate me?”
Dad lets out a defeated exhale.
Mom cuts in, “Sweetie, I’m sure your father never meant—”
“Was it best for me when you pulled funding from my charity?” I cut her off, too angry at Dad to back down or entertain her attempt at placating.
“Was it best for me when you called the man I love a deadbeat and a drunk?” I step toward him.
“If you’re keeping track, that last one was only a couple minutes ago. ”
“Caroline, listen—” he starts.
“No. No more listening to you.” I take in the picture before me one last time: my father sitting behind his big, obnoxious desk, surrounded by the artifacts of a life lived for his own gain.
And I don’t see power or prestige: just a pathetic, weak old man.
“Earn a place back in my life or don’t. That’s your choice.
But I can’t even look at you right now. I need space. ”
I’m midway through storming out to my car when I come face to face with the last person I want to see.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is terse, a barely controlled rage searing the back of my throat.
“Nice to see you, too, Caroline.” Fletcher finishes climbing the front steps, regarding me coolly as he adjusts the leather strap of his shoulder bag. “And to answer your question, I’m moving next week.”
At least one positive of my dad losing the election is his disgraced campaign manager getting the boot.
Good riddance, Fletch.
“Got a new position at Delta Consulting.” He smooths down his tie as if he can sense how I’m fantasizing about choking him with it. “In Olympia.”
“Good for you.” I give him a withering smile. It’s joyless and phony—concepts he should be well-acquainted with.
“So,” he continues, “I’m dropping off my work phone, laptop… a few other things.”
That infernal phone.
The mere mention of it fans the flames of my anger all over again. “Well, I hope the women of Olympia are ready for you, Fletch.” It’s possible I could incinerate him with a look. “And I hope they get off on mediocre sex and snoring.”
He rolls his eyes and I turn to go. “Care, come on,” he calls after me. “Don’t be like that.”
Stopping halfway down the stairs, I face him, my jaw working. “And how should I be?”