Page 113 of Terms Of Un-Endearment
“You sure? I want to be prepared so I don’t fangirl too hard over Rhys every time I’m met with a life-size poster of him.” Her sarcasm is back. “Seeing as how I’mmadlyin love with him.”
Honestly, I deserve her sarcasm for all the times I teased about having a massive crush on Rhys James. Even in front of him one time. That was a jerk move I’d take back if I could.
The fact is, I was never very nice to Piper, and she obviously hasn’t forgotten. I don’t blame her. I’ve got no excuse for making her life miserable when our parents married. But I don’t have to make it miserable now. I’m a grown man. I can be better.
I let go of her suitcase. My hand hurts from squeezing the handle. “Why don’t you plan to stay the weekend? I’ll keep out of your way, and you can take the time to make other arrangements. I know this isn’t your fault.”
Piper studies me like she’s digging for an ulterior motive to my offer, or maybe a reason to refuse. When she doesn’t find one, she nods with a quiet, “thank you.”
I scoot past her with an apologetic grin. It doesn’t make up for the past decade, but what would? I can’t go back in time, and once I sign the deed to this house back to Dad, Piper and I aren’t forced family anymore. There’s no sense in cultivating a relationship at this point. I just want to feel like I’ve done right by her for once.
Chapter 7
Archie
With Piper settled, and the rain stopped—it rarely lasts long this time of year—I decide to go out for dinner and spare us both any more awkward encounters.
I walk the Promenade that parallels the beach to the Breakwater neighborhood. I’ll have my choice of restaurants there. The air smells crisp and fresh, like everything’s been rinsed clean from the rain. Waves are flat and creep to the shore with a soft, lulling sound that settles my nerves.
Just as I’m feeling chill again, my mobile plays “The Imperial March” fromStar Wars, another Frankie ringtone setting.
This call I answer right away. Dad rarely rings me.
“Archibald,” he says on top of my hello. “Why haven’t you signed the documents I sent?”
“Dex and Britta don’t have anywhere to live yet.” I leave out I’ve ignored opening the package with the docs in it that Sybil sent. Dad’s always liked Dex. Giving him and Britta a bit of time to move out is my best play for convincing DadIneed more time.
“Sybil can make some calls and get him a place. I need those papers signed.”
I’ve used the wordnobefore, but I can’t remember if I’ve ever used it with Dad. Worse than that, my throat has gone dry and,suddenly, I can’t remember how to sayno. Even if I could, Dad doesn’t understand the meaning of it.
But I can’t just walk away from the house, my mates, and LA without a fight.
I step from the path onto the sand and take a deep breath. “I can’t sign them. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I need more time to figure things out.” My chest tightens, cutting off my breath.
“More time? Mmm.” In the quiet beat that follows, hope skitters around the edges of my mind.
“I’ll give you the weekend. Any longer and you can figure out how to pay for that house and everything else on your own,” he says brusquely.
And hope slinks away.
Dad’s tightened the leash, and if he’s talking about my allowance and trust, well, he’s willing to go pretty tight.
“I understand,” I say, giving him the only acceptable answer he’ll take.
He ends the call.
I stare at the ocean, willing the waves to regain their strength so they can crash on the shore.
But I don’t have that kind of power. I don’t have any power, really. Not with Dad.
Resentment creeps up my chest, but I push it back like I do every time I recall the money I should have from my years on “Surf City High.” Instead, my earnings from the show and a few skincare ads that followed are tied up in a revocable trust Dad controls until I’m thirty, at which point I become the trustee and can do what I want with the money.
When he first put it together, I was sixteen—a young bloke who didn’t know bugger all about managing finances. Now, at twenty-eight, it’s obvious the trust is more about managing methan my money.Controllingme. As the current trustee, Dad can change the terms any time he likes. He could decide tomorrow that I have to wait until I’m thirty-five to get access to the trust.
