Page 8 of Honeymoon Phase
“She’s good. She’s at her weekly bridge club. I’m nursing a sunburn from shuffleboard yesterday.”
I snort as I fight back a laugh. My dad sounds happy, despite our drama over the family business, and I guess that makes me happy. I never saw him date a woman after my mom left. Never even looked at one. Until Edith.
Now the old goat is slathering himself with aloe vera and happy as a clam in that retirement village they moved to. Though it’s more of an early retirement village as he’s just newly sixty. But the way he just up and decided to retire early is still an adjustment. Life is weird how it can change on a dime.
“Still can’t get used to you living in Florida. I never thought I’d see the day you left Boulder.”
“Me neither, Addie. But you’d be amazed at what one might endure for the love of a good woman. Hey, maybe that’s your problem. Maybe you should be trying to marry a woman.”
“Is that allowed?” I stand and walk over to the window with a furrow to my brow. “I mean, I don’t really know a lot of women, but that does open up my prospects a bit.”
“Addison, it’s called a joke—” he pauses for a second before adding “—unless you’re coming out to me in which case I owe some money to Bullhead.”
I roll my eyes and make a noise in the back of my throat. “Keep your money, Old Man. I’m strictly dickly.”
Long, heavy pause.
“I could have lived my whole life without hearing those words come out of my daughter’s mouth.”
“I’ve heard ten times worse come out of Bullhead’s mouth!”
Dad harrumphs. “Yeah, he’s burned too many brain cells I’m afraid.”
“But seriously though, I’m open to same-sex marriage for this trust issue to be resolved. How did you hit on Edith? What was your move?”
“Goodbye, Addie May. I’ll see you in October for the Man of the Mountain competition. You’re still doing the awards presentation, right?”
“Does a bear shit in the woods?” I deadpan.
Another heavy pause. “It’s moments like this that I recognize how much I failed as a father.”
We hang up and I walk over to the bulletin board on the wall by the window where the Man of the Mountain flyer is pinned. The top text above the logo is “Sponsored by Monroe Lumber and Building Center.” At the bottom of the flyer, it reads “All Proceeds to Go to the Fallen Angels Family Center,” a charity that supports families and victims of drunk drivers.
My throat tightens as I rub my finger along our business logo. This event is huge for the yard every year and raises a shit ton of money for this charity. What if the new owners my dad wants to sell to don’t sponsor this every year? What if the charity has come to depend on this donation and struggles without it? Has my dad put any of that in writing?
Damn, I need a husband. Or a wife! They started offering the women’s division with Man of the Mountain a few years ago on a different weekend and you bet your ass I signed up as fast as I could.
I then proceeded to get my ass kicked by real-life lumberjills that work in the mills or reside in logging towns. I was delusional to think working in a lumberyard prepared me to go up against lumberjills. The truth is, I’m a bougie Boulder-born “softie” compared to those beasts, but it was a fun experience to at least try and fail at.
Now I just show up and present the medals to the winnersand a check to the charity at the closing ceremonies. A much easier gig that my dad pawned off on me years ago the moment his knees started struggling to climb those stage steps.
And he just wants to sell that family tradition right out from under me.
It’s too bad I’ve never made friends with any of the ladies I competed against or maybe I could ask one of them to be my fake partner for a year until I inherit this company. But honestly, the lumberjill squad scares me. And what would I even say? “Hi, my name’s Addison. I’m not a lesbian but would you consider being my friend and maybe marrying me and living with me for a year so I can inherit my family’s lumberyard and then divorce you?”
I roll my eyes. Women are way too smart to say yes to that. Men are simpler creatures. I’ve really only had guy friends... or at least... guy friends of my dad’s since the lumberyard was basically our whole life. I host a meal for the guys at least once a week at the yard here without my dad around. That’s friendship, right? Or does it not count if they’re my employees? Are they just tolerating me because I’m the owner’s daughter?
Luke Fletcher is my only friend outside the lumberyard and he’s definitely not my dad’s friend. My dad can’t stand Luke. He mean mugs him every time he comes in. It’s comical really. I think the old man assumed it was a romantic thing developing between me and Luke, so that’s why he went into the “I own several guns and know how to use them” mode, but that’s all for nothing. Luke and I are just friends.
I don’t really even know how our friendship happened. One day he was one of the burly bearded brothers who came in to pick up building supplies for Fletcher Brothers Construction, and the next day he was just... a part of my life.
We grab drinks or lunch together pretty regularly since we both work in Boulder. I even have him over to my apartmentfor dinner quite a bit. Cooking is a passion of mine but it’s not fun doing it for just one person, so I like having Luke over. Chuck and Bullhead don’t have the refined palates that some of my more daring dishes require.
Luke, on the other hand, loves everything I make.
I haven’t cooked for him in a couple months now because we’re sort of in a fight? I’m not sure. I just know we haven’t spoken much since he offered to marry me after we were in Mexico for his brother’s wedding. The whole thing was awkward as fuck. I thought he was messing with me, and it turns out he was serious I guess? I’m not sure because he’s avoiding me like an asshole.
And hell, I miss him. He’s usually such a safe space for me. I can be “soft” with him, and he never teases me for it, because he only knows me that way. I never hide that part of myself from him.
