Page 10 of All Your Life

“Um, hey, what’s up?”

When I see the bottle of wine he’s holding, I wonder what’s going on. Did my mother invite him to dinner after I told her that tonight wasn’t good? Would she do that? That would be a new low for Audrey.

“Your parents asked me over for dinner.” Taking in my expression, he asks, “Is that all right?”

I force a smile, hoping it doesn’t look forced. This isn’t his fault. “It’s perfect. Come in.” I step aside when I realize I’m still blocking his entrance.

“Look who’s here,” I say to my parents as we make our way into the kitchen.

My dad looks up from his phone, his eyes curious. Nope, he wasn’t in on this. “Hello, Parker. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Hamilton. How was your game Sunday morning? My father and I were just getting started when your foursome was finishing up.”

“Can’t complain. I won’t be wearing the green jacket anytime soon, but I didn’t embarrass myself out there. What about you?”

“I shot a personal best.”

“Good for you.”

I notice my father doesn’t ask what Parker’s personal best is, while I can tell by Parker’s expression that he’s damn near bursting at the seams to tell him. I don’t think my dad really cares, and he doesn’t ask questions just for the sake of bullshitting.

I also note that he calls my father Mr. Hamilton, and more importantly, calls my mother Mrs. Hamilton when he’s in my father’s presence. After school, shooting the breeze in my kitchen with my mother while he waits for me, the two of them are on a first-name basis. She’s Audrey.

Once we’re seated, he tastes the salmon and compliments my mother, jokes about his own mother’s failed attempts at cooking an edible meal, and makes a point of mentioning that one of my father’s fund managers was quoted in the latest issue ofForbes. He’s charming. Parents love him. I remind myself that every other girl in my school would kill to be his. And I kind of hate myself in that moment. I have it all. What right do I have to be unhappy when I’ve had everything pretty much handed to me my entire life?

I come back to the conversation when my father clears his throat. “Honey, Mom was just asking when you should be expecting your acceptance letters.”

Parker answers for me. “Technically the schools have until April first, but generally you hear by early March. Well, unless it’s an early decision application.” He looks back to me. “Did you hear from Princeton yet?”

“No, did you?”

He uses his napkin and then sets it down on the table. “Not yet, but...”But my father went there, my grandfather went there, my great-grandfather went there. All totaled, they’ve given a shit ton of money to that school.I’m as good as in and we both know it. That’s what he’s thinking, but instead he says, “I’m hoping to see a big fat envelope in our mailbox very soon.”

I think to myself that I won’t be receiving an envelope, fat or skinny, because I didn’t apply there. He knows I’m set on Penn so that I can board Shadow at the campus equestrian center, but he thinks I at least applied to his school of choice. There’s a good chance I wouldn’t get in—their acceptance rate is ridiculously low—but I’d never go there anyway. It’s too close to home. Not like Penn is so far away, but a nearly two-hour drive as opposed to forty minutes gives me a bit of a buffer. It’s close enough that I can scoot home for a long weekend if I want, and far away enough to ensure that my mother won’t be driving down to take me to lunch too often.

I bet Anne and James are already planning their future, and the idea that they’ll be together is a foregone conclusion. He’ll have an idea of what schools will be looking to recruit him for baseball, and she will apply to all of them, just to cover their bases. I envision the two of them studying together at night in the library, Anne sitting front and center at all of his home games, and maybe even moving off campus together for their senior year just because they can’t stand to be apart.

Then I look to my left and smile because Parker is smiling at me. He takes my hand underneath the table and gives it a gentle squeeze. And in the midst of that loving gesture, all I can think to myself is that I’m so glad we’ll be graduating in a few months. He’ll be going in one direction, me in another. It’s the perfect time to cut ties.

No, I am certainly not Anne, and Parker is not my James.

Chapter Seven

LIAM

“You planning on being a waiter forever?”

I haven’t been in the house for ten minutes, and fuckface is already starting in on me. Jeff Opperman, otherwise known as my mother’s husband. A fine, upstanding pillar of our seedy community.

Seriously, he has a full-time union job, so that’s how he sees himself. And if he was half as kind behind closed doors as he pretends to be to the outside world, then I’d respect him.

I admire every hard-working man who loves and protects his family. Take my Uncle Danny, for example. The way he treats my Aunt Maeve, his daughters, and everyone else in his orbit is something I aspire to. He’s humble, keeps his head down, and even though his job does occasionally entail shoveling shit out of horse stalls for spoiled little brats, I see him as a giant among men.

“I don’t know, Jeff. It’s either that or a bounty hunter...I’m still deciding.”

That would have earned me a slap in the face, or, if he was more than a couple of beers in, a punch in the ribs a few years ago, but Jeff hasn’t stepped up to me since I turned seventeen. He knows I hit back now, and deep down, bullies are always chickenshit by nature. He used intimidation to keep me in line back then, but he’s got nothing to hang over my head anymore. I no longer rely on him for food, clothing or shelter, and that pisses him off to no end.

“Smug little shit. You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

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