Page 131 of Mountain Daddy
I can’t.
And we can’t have another laundry room moment.
We really can’t.
But…
Standing, I reach out and grip Kendra by the shoulders.
She only has one of her sandals on, and she nearly stumbles as I pull her to me, but when I hug her to me, she wraps her arms around my waist.
After the party.
After the party, we’ll figure our shit out.
Chapter 82
Kendra
“Wait,am I supposed to bring something?”
Dad looks at me, then down to the envelope in his hand. “It’s just some cash. Isn’t that what people do for graduations?”
“Well, yeah. But…” I heave out a breath, not believing I didn’t think about it until this moment. “Did you already seal the envelope?”
Dad nods slowly as he pulls a face. “Probably should’ve let you sign the card too, huh?”
I drop my head back with a groan. “Just give me a minute.”
In my bedroom, I drag one of my cardboard boxes out of the closet and rip it open.
If I can make it through today without stress sweating through every item of clothing I have on, it will be a fucking miracle.
First, I woke up with a jolt in the middle of a nightmare. I don’t remember the details, but my heart rate told me it wasn’t good.
Then, I spent a literal hour trying to decide what to wear to my secret boyfriend’s daughter’s college grad party.
I finally settled on a pair of flowy dark green linen pants and a snug black tank top. My hair is down, and I’m wearing my favorite pair of comfy black leather sandals.
Appropriate for summer. Cute but not sexy.
And the colors hopefully won’t show the sweat that’s already gathering.
Finally spotting what I’m looking for, I grab the painted tin box.
Unlatching the box, I take the stationary to my nightstand and pull out one of the handmade cards and a matching brown paper envelope.
The bright floral design might not be on theme for a twenty-six-year-old woman I’ve never met, but these are the only cards I have.
I pull my cobalt-blue pen out of the tin, open the card, and stare.
This is why people spend too much money on store-bought greeting cards. Because trying to decide what to write in a blank card, to a person you don’t know, whose dad you’re fucking, is… horrible.
I lower the pen to the paper three separate times before I settle on simple.
Congrats!
From,
