Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
My heart squeezes. “You’re right. And thank you.”
But she really sees through me when she turns to meet my eyes. “Are you inviting your parents to the fundraiser? Or your sisters?”
Talk about a surprise. “I…” That’s a good question. I pause. “I haven’t told my folks. I did mention it to my sisters, but I’ve deliberately avoided the details.”
Her smile is soft but encouraging. She doesn’t back down though. She never has. “You should, don’t you think?”
“Why?”
“Your sisters know you do karaoke. So does your friend Monroe, you said. But has anyone really heard you sing recently? Besides me.”
That’s an even better question. I stare up at the stars flickering in the inky night sky, then back down at her, shaking my head, feeling a little called out but not in a bad way. “No. It’s been a while.”
“And your dad? Does he know?”
I shake my head.
“Any reason?”
I blow out a breath. “Damn, you don’t pull punches.”
“You’re right. And that’s why you like me.”
Her confidence is addictive, just like her. I take a beat, then dig down and offer up the unvarnished truth. “It just never fit the image.”
“Of the professional?”
“Yeah.”
She squeezes my arm. “He seems like a good man. A supportive man. I bet he’d enjoy it.”
I try to picture my dad in the front row. It’s hard to see though, but maybe because I’ve only let him see my responsible side.
I’m hardly ever the rebel one. And really, singing “Fly Me to the Moon” isn’t that edgy.
I swallow past the nerves, then say, “I’ll do it.”
That earns me the hottest kiss of my life.
* * *
In the morning, Chloe takes off with her dog, and I’ve got just enough time before I need to head into work to make the call. I pace in the kitchen, amped up on coffee. I grab my phone and stab my dad’s contact name, and the phone rings.
This shouldn’t be hard. Really, it shouldn’t. I’d like to settle these annoying nerves all the way down.
But when he answers with a, “Hey, son,” the nerves fly back up my chest.
I’ve always wanted to stay in the lines, stick to the plan, be an upstanding guy who maintains boundaries. Like he taught me. Will this change how he sees me?
“Hey, Dad,” I say, wishing my stomach weren’t flipping like a goddamn pancake. But…fuck it. Sometimes you have to dive in. Besides, the whole town is going to know soon. What’s the difference?
Because he’s your dad.
Here goes nothing. “I’m performing a song at the town fundraiser this weekend. Want to come?”
There’s silence for a few seconds. Then a clearing of his throat. “You are?”
He sounds perplexed. Shit.
“Yup. The guy who was supposed to do it broke his leg, so Chloe asked me…and anyway, yes I am.”
“Huh,” he says, sounding almost amused. “I always did think you were good at singing in the shower.”
I stop in my tracks. I guess my secret habit wasn’t such a secret. “Thanks,” I say dryly.
“I’ll be there. Can I bring Latanya?”
“Sure,” I say, giving him the details.
“Great. I can’t wait.” He blows out a breath, then says genuinely, “Thanks for the invite.”
“You’re welcome.”
I hang up, relieved. After I leash Mister Dog so he can come to work with me, I dictate a text to my sisters, inviting them as well. Then my mom too.
It’s not like I’m telling them about Sam. It’s just me performing. And it’ll be fine. Really, it’ll be fine.
* * *
The show’s in three more days, and after another rehearsal on Wednesday night, I’m ready. This one is a full-cast rehearsal, so it doesn’t end the same way as Monday’s. Shame. But I’ll live.
“Meet you later?” Chloe mouths from the piano.
I nod a yes, knowing she needs to stay to wrap up a few issues with her mom.
As I make my way along the aisle, her mother catches my attention. Seated elegantly in the second row, she’s regal and bold, her blouse a muted shade of gold, her rhinestone glasses shiny. Her boyfriend is next to her.
“Sawyer,” she says, her voice commanding.
For a brief second—no, several—I think I’m in trouble. For what, I have no idea. But it feels that way.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Angelo laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t call her ma’am.”
“Um, Miss—”
“Director,” Angelo supplies. “Call her Miss Director.”
“Oh hush,” she tells him with obvious affection, then says, “it’s still Rivers. Why give up a good last name once you’ve got it?”
“Unless you get a better one,” Angelo says under his breath, a hopeful note to his voice.
Her eyebrows rise. “We’ll see.”
Well, I guess someone wants to marry Chloe’s mom.
With a laugh she turns back to me. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done. Thank you.” Then she lowers her voice, her smile vanishing, her tone sharp. “And be good to my daughter.”
For fuck’s sake, am I wearing a sign above my head that says I’m into her?