Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85888 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 344(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“That was different.”
“Did you know that Mom and her new husband sent me flowers when I landed my first client? I mean, they’re busy people with their own lives, and yet they still manage to meet the baseline of familial support.”
“You’re hardly a child to need your hand held, Susie.”
“Neither is my brother. You know, I used to think if I was quiet and good that you’d love me. But it just made me easier to ignore. Is that all you called about? Money for Andrew?” I asked. “Ugh. Don’t answer that. Of course, it is. Tell my brother he’d have had a better chance approaching me directly than attempting this bullshit.”
“Susie!”
“Though he still owes me an apology for giving me crap about inheriting the house at Aunt Susan’s funeral. Which is why we haven’t talked in months.”
Dad started to splutter something, but I was done. I liked to be liked. It was a failing of mine; being a people pleaser sucked. But at some stage, you have to accept that for some people you are never going to be enough. No matter what you do.
“Sorry, Dad. I’ve got to go. Bye.”
I slumped against the kitchen counter and just concentrated on breathing for a minute. In and out. In and out. Everything was fine. My dad had never been overly interested in filling the role of father in my life. This was nothing new. My brother was a jerk. Also old news. At times like this, the connection between the faulty male folk in my family and my awful taste in boyfriends seemed obvious. It might be time to schedule an appointment with the therapist Cleo recommended. And I would. Any day now.
Lars appeared in the archway with a concerned expression. That was the problem with this house: the living room led into the dining room, which led into the kitchen. It was all very open and had great flow. And the music had stopped. When you’re listening to vinyl that happens more than you’d think. Lars must have heard everything.
“You okay?” he asked.
I gave him something between a grimace and a smile. “Yes.”
“I didn’t mean to listen. It’s just...it’s a small house.”
“Yeah.”
“You sounded upset.”
“I was.” I nodded. “But I’m okay now.”
His tongue played behind his cheek. “I feel like I should offer to go punch someone for you. Not sure if that’s a suitable response, though.”
“Oh, that’s sweet. It means a lot to me that you’d be willing to fly to Florida and assault my father. But it’s really not required.”
He shrugged.
“I did warn you that my family was less than great.”
His smile was empathetic. “Holidays will definitely be held with my folks.”
“I’m almost willing to marry you for that alone.” I grabbed the old glass cookie jar out of the pantry. The first chocolate chip cookie got shoved in my mouth, but the second I passed to him. Sugar was my friend. Sort of. Once the cookie was finished, I happy-sighed and said, “That’s better.”
The usual amusement filled his gaze. Though it soon turned serious. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Why don’t you just tell Tore you’re not going to sell?”
“Because I haven’t made up my mind.”
“Susie.” The smile he gave me was gentle. “You’re not going to let go of this place. You love it. Just tell him you’re not interested and he’ll stop asking you.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“Of course, then you’ll have to actually commit to the place and buy some furniture and get settled.”
“Whoa there, my oversize friend. Are you suggesting I have commitment issues?”
“How many months have you been living here now?”
“A few,” I hedged.
He shrugged.
Huh. I actually hadn’t thought of my lack of furnishings as having deeper meaning. Apart from it seeming smart to wait until after the renovations. Though not having a sofa was annoying. But what if I chose wrong again? Maybe I’d throw my money away on a chair that made perfect sense in the moment, only for it wind up a mess. The fear was real.
“You’re not still worried about replacing your aunt here, are you?” he asked. “Because she obviously wanted you to have the place.”
My shoulders slumped. “No. It’s just...”
“You feel like you don’t deserve all this?”
“Eh,” I said, still hedging. “I don’t know.”
“You’re worried about making another bad call?”
“Tell me, Lars. Since when do you think you know me so well that you can finish my sentences?”
“Since you started wearing that sad face,” he teased. “It’s the pout in particular that does it to me.”
“Great.” I pondered the existential horror of it all. “Aaron would say take the money and run. He’d be aghast at the idea of settling down and living in the suburbs.”
“Who gives a fuck what he thinks?”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my God. Lars. You blasphemed against the bestie. Do you need to sit down? Say a few Hail Marys?”