Page 108 of The No Touch Roommate Rule
I want him to know that I can learn from my mistakes.
Hands trembling, I shoot Parker a text, promising to meet him at the house this afternoon, and telling him to drive safely. Then, I scroll down to a number I’ve been avoiding for far too long.
My father answers on the second ring, sounding worried. “Makena? Is everything all right?”
“Everything’s fine, Dad,” I say, forcing a brighter note into my voice. “I know you have work today, but I was wondering if you would want to grab lunch? I could meet you at that BBQ place by your office that you like.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, but when he speaks, he sounds hopeful, “Sure, that would be nice. Does eleven-thirty work? I usually take an early lunch on Mondays.”
“Sure, that’s great. I’ll see you then,” I say.
“Okay, see you then,” he says. “Love you, honey.”
“Love you, too,” I say, hanging up with an only slightly queasy feeling in my chest. My dad has caused me a lot of pain, but he’s nothing like Parker’s father. For all his faults, he loves me.
Maybe too much. If he loved me less, he wouldn’t still be trying so hard to save me.
But I don’t need to be saved, and it’s past time I did something positive to shift our relationship in a different direction. I’ve tried avoiding and evading and running away.
Now, we’ll see what a grounded, honest, adult conversation can do.
Even if I fail, at least it’s proof that I’m willing to tackle my baggage, and I’m pretty sure Parker will be proud of me.
Hoping I’ll have good news to share by the time he gets home, I head upstairs to ask Charlotte if I can borrow her car after we get croissants, and discreetly leave Nix’s number written in her planner.
What she decides to do with it is up to her, but a little nudge in the direction of a guy who can solve her revenge problems—with a side of multiple O’s—seems like the noble friend thing to do.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
PARKER
There’s a fresh gopher hole in my backyard that wasn’t there when we left on our trip. Right between the basil and the heirloom tomatoes, like the universe decided to take a shit on everything I hold dear, all in one fell swoop.
I should call pest control, but I can’t stop pacing the edge of the garden long enough to look up the number.
Gophers are the least of my problems right now.
I check my phone again, but there’s nothing since Makena’s text from twenty minutes ago—Running late but bringing dinner. Don’t worry.
Don’t worry.
Right.
Like my stomach isn’t tied in Gordian knots. Like I haven’t been watching the door since Nana and I rolled in two hours ago.
“You’re going to give yourself vertigo walking in circles like that,” Nana observes from the rocking chair on the back porch, sweet tea in hand.
The color’s back in her cheeks, and she’s looking more like her old self with every passing hour. She’s also already dropped a possum in a tutu on my bookshelf and hung two penis paintingsin the hallway that aren’t going to be easy to explain when the guys on the team come by to play Madden.
But I’m so glad she’s here.
I want to keep an eye on her. And this way, she can keep an eye onmein the event Makena breaks up with me, and I need to be put on “don’t hurl yourself off a bridge” watch.
Nope, I’m not even going to put that possibility out there into the universe.
If she were planning to break up with me, she would have told me…right?
