Page 69 of Riot Reunion
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I’ve got Pax’s number. I’ve been hassling him for updates.”
Pax? Dad has Pax’s cell phone number? What an alien concept. I can’t even begin to imagine what their text messages are like to each other. Dad’s not the type to make small talk, and Pax? Well, he’s not the type to refrain from being abhorrent to people he sees as authority figures. I groan as I picture how stilted and awful their communication must be. “Oh god. I hope you were nice to him. I hopehewas nice toyou.”
Dad laughs tensely. “Well. Y’know. We’ve been managing.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that we’re mad as hell at each other but trying not to be assholes because we both love you very much.”
“That’s very magnanimous of you.”
“Idohave every right to be shitty with the guy, y’know. The dumb bastarddidknock up my teenage daughter.”
Oh boy. This isn’t the kind of chat I ever want to have with my father. “He didn’t do it on purpose, Dad.”
“Is that supposed to make it better somehow?”
“No. I—” I press my fingertips into my forehead, screwing my eyes shut. “It doesn’t make it better. But I’m just as much to blame as he is.”
“Oh, believe me. I’m aware ofthat. Don’t you worry. I’m mad at you, too.” He laughs tightly. He’s joking. Kind of. “I worried you might be eating dinner or something. I just wanted to call and hear your voice. It’s one thing being told your daughter’s fine, but you never really believe it ’til you hear it for yourself. That probably doesn’t make sense, but…”
“It does,” I murmur. “I’m glad you checked in on me. Thanks, Dad. How are you holding up? I’m sorry I made you go get all of that stuff for me and then bailed while you were gone. That was bad manners.”
“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I wasn’t helping, hovering over you all of the time. I’m assuming you’ll be back here on Thursday, anyway, right?”
“Thursday?”
“Thanksgiving, sweetheart. I’m doing a set menu special at the restaurant in the evening, but I’m doing a late brunch for you and me before that. I’m making all of your favorites. Pax can pick you up when we’re done. I suppose it’d be okay if he joined us for desert—”
“Whoa, whoa. Dad. I’m—I’m sorry, but I’m not excluding Pax from anything I do on Thanksgiving. I’ll be spending the whole day with him. I’d like to spend it with both of you, but if things are going to be awkward—”
“I’m yourfamily, Presley.”
“So ishe.” I’m going to fucking scream. I swear, if he says something shitty, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind.
“All right. Okay. I can see now isn’t the best time to talk about this. You’re tired. I don’t wanna fight. We’ll figure out a compromise later. We still have a couple of days—”
“Dad.”
“And we’ll talk about getting you back to college as well. At Sarah Lawrence. No more of this Alaska nonsense. And no more talk of quitting, either.”
“I’ve already done all the paperwork.”
“It isn’t too late. I’ve made some calls and—”
“DAD!”
He finally stops.
“I have a monster headache. I cannotdo this right now. Can we talk tomorrow, please?”
My father knows I don’t have a headache, but he has the good sense to accept the lie. “If…that’s what you need, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you want to discuss it all some more.”
“Cool.”
“Okay, then. Get a good night’s sleep. Love you, kiddo.”
