Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 27900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27900 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 140(@200wpm)___ 112(@250wpm)___ 93(@300wpm)
“Shane? It’s Margo. Your step—I mean, it’s Zachary’s wife.” She was clearly about to say stepmother, a term I’ve never been open to or welcomed.
Still, she tries. She’s never been the stereotypical bitch I expected, just the second wife my father left his family for. It is hard to welcome her, especially when my own father hasn’t bothered much with me and yet has been such a stubborn ass when it comes to how I choose to live my life.
“Hello, Margo. How can I help you?” I ask, my standard answer for her rare phone calls. And they are rare.
“It’s your father. He … he had a heart attack,” she says, her voice cracking.
Despite our fractured relationship, panic runs through my veins. “Is he … is he okay?”
“He is. The doctors are optimistic, though they want to run a few tests.”
Relief flows through me. After all, the man is an ass, but he is the only father I have.
“But he’s asking for you,” Margo says. “Can you come visit? Tomorrow would be best because they are running tests today.”
I run a hand over my eyes and groan. “I’ll be there.” I don’t have class in the morning, and they are only located an hour away. But why in the hell does my father want to see me?
And how do I feel about it? My father either leaves me to my own devices or steps in when he doesn’t approve of my choices. He’s never once asked to see me for no apparent reason. True, a brush with mortality could spark a man’s deepest fears, but I don’t see my father reaching that deep into his soul, and apologies aren’t in his vocabulary.
“Thank you. I’ll let Zachary know. I’ll text you the hospital information and I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says before disconnecting the call.
I open a beer and walk to the kitchen window above the sink and look out over my lawn. The neighbors are sitting on their deck, a drawback to this house as there are no trees as a barrier giving me privacy.
Deciding not to go outside, I sit down on the sofa in the family room, take a sip of my drink, and stare into the empty room. I need someone to talk to, someone I think will understand my past and mixed emotions about visiting my sick father. There is no way I’d burden my mother with this news, and I haven’t made any friends here close enough to unload this kind of crap on.
Which leaves the only person I really want to see anyway. The same woman I’ve been avoiding unless I see her in my classroom. The one I’ve steadfastly refused to text or call despite the open invitation for me to do so.
I want to talk to Amber.
* * *
Amber
Soon after my conversation—and kiss—with Shane, though I’m not thinking about that now—I received an email with two tutor names and nothing else written in the note. Ignoring the pang of disappointment that he isn’t going to discuss anything personal, I jumped on the opportunity, texting both tutors and setting up a meeting with a female assistant professor who replied to me first. Knowing I have a plan sets my mind at ease about the class. I feel certain with one-on-one help I can get up to speed enough to pass and put Intro to Economics behind me.
Unfortunately I can’t do the same for Shane or that kiss. I’ve been reliving the moment while awake and daydreaming and in my sleep at night. But he’s made his intentions or lack thereof clear, and I am not going to chase after a man who isn’t interested in me. I understand his reasons for not wanting a public relationship, but I offered him a way to get to know each other without anyone else being aware. And he hasn’t acted on it. So I throw myself into my schoolwork.
Thanks to the tutoring, over time, my grades slowly inch up. I’ll never be an economist, but I am going to get more than a D in this class. I consider a C a major accomplishment. When Shane hands back quizzes and assignments with my better grades, I see the gleam of approval in his gaze and the pleased expression on his face. He still doesn’t get in touch with me the way I hoped, and after a few weeks go by, I come to accept that he is going to keep his distance and I need to respect his wishes.
In between studying, I finish unpacking my house, finish decorating L.J.’s room, and have fallen into a comfortable routine, speaking to L.J. every evening and texting with him in the mornings before I go to school on the days I have class. I also join a study group and meet with them twice a week, and though the information I learn there didn’t help before tutoring, once I have a grasp on the material, I feel more comfortable contributing and gaining information there.