Page 53 of No Rhyme or Roughing
“It’s a holiday, and you’re my family. I thought?—”
“If you had actually thought, you’d know our answer to that.”
“Please, Sydney. I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for years. Now, you’re here in front of me, and I can’t just?—”
“Actually, you can. Dad, I’m not the little girl whose life you messed up anymore. Teddy is the only family I need. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t even spend your guilt money.”
“The trust fund isn’t?—”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“Please.” I’d never seen him look so sullen. “Carinna… She left.”
Left. Carinna wasn’t the woman I’d caught him with—there’d been many since then—but she was the first he’d married. Not the last though.
“Did you cheat on her?”
“No… I… She had an affair.”
“Ah. And you realize you wrote off your actual family when you shouldn’t have.”
I looked closer. He had deep bags under his eyes, and his suit didn’t fit as well as it should have. The part of me that never liked to ruffle feathers rose to the surface. I didn’t like making people feel bad—about themselves or about me.
A sigh rattled out of me. “I’ll see what I can do about Thanksgiving.” I’d regret this. “Do you remember Sullivan Cassidy? He and his fiancée are hosting us this year. Do you… want to come?”
His face brightened. “A meal with two of my kids? I wouldn’t say no to that.”
At least since his wife left him.
“Fine. I’ll text you the details. I have to go.”
I closed the door on whatever he was going to say next and turned to find Guardian taking a shit right in the middle of the living room.
“You know, bud, sometimes I wish I could do that too.” Just mess everything up.
My phone rang again. Jameson. I picked it up and threw it. It smashed against the wall and hit the ground with a thud. The ringing continued. Damn iPhones. Couldn’t even break them when you really wanted to.
It stopped as I cleaned up Guardian’s mess. Then, it started again a few minutes later. On autopilot, I walked to the kitchen, yanked open the freezer, and stuffed it between the frozen chicken breasts and the giant bag of fruit Rowan used for the guys’ smoothies.
There. At least I could hardly hear it when I shut the door.
With the guys out of the house, I could order something disgustingly unhealthy from Uber Eats. Dumplings, fried egg rolls, and boba. Who cared if California pricingmeant it cost nearly a hundred dollars? Who cared if it would stuff up every one of my arteries?
At five forty-five, I fed Guardian, feeling a little dangerous for doing it earlier than Teddy wanted. I then changed into an oversized T-shirt and no pants. I was a fucking adult. No one could make me wear pants.
A. Fucking. Adult.
With big fucking daddy issues.
And a famous ex who was probably in San Fran and booty-calling me.
Not to mention no idea what I was doing here in this state, or with my life in general.
When my food got here, I watched out the window until the delivery driver left it at the door and walked away. He turned when I opened the door, catching sight of me in all my pants-less glory.
Grabbing my food, I ran inside so fast that my boba would have spilled if it wasn’t for the magic, vacuum-sealed lid.
By the time the game started, I was stuffed full of greasy goodness, Guardian was pottied—outside this time—and I’d settled onto the couch to sip my boba like the badass goddess I was.
