Page 21 of Chasing Forever
“Fine. Breakfast.” I think of where we can go where we won’t have every set of eyes in Willowbrook on us. Surely not the house I share with my sister and cousins. Not the Getaway Lodge either. Any place in downtown Willowbrook is a definite no. “I’ll be here at eight.”
“Eight?” He pulls his phone out, looks at it, and pockets it. “It’s late. Ten?”
“You said I get to choose. I choose eight. I’ll even bring the doughnuts. What’s your favorite?” It’s a purposeful dig at him being a sheriff and the fact the man really does love doughnuts.
“Pretending you don’t know?” He arches an eyebrow.
I exhale sharply, my frustration slipping out. “Fine, I’ll bring you a whole dozen Boston cream doughnuts tomorrow at eight.” I step off the porch.
“Don’t forget your favorite, a bear claw or two.”
I stop and inhale a deep breath, but don’t respond.
His chuckle makes me want to stomp back up his porch steps, but instead, I go back to my dad’s truck and tuck myself inside.
“That looked like a lovely conversation,” my dad says.
“We’re talking tomorrow.” I buckle my seat belt.
My dad starts to back out of the long drive. I watch Brooks put his suitcase in the house, then head to his truck immediately.
“Is he going to his parents’?” my mom asks.
“How would I know?”
“You are his wife.” My dad shoots me a look from the front seat, and I mumble an apology for my shitty tone.
“That conversation isn’t going to be easy for him,” Mom says quietly.
I feel a small piece of guilt that I’m not going with him, but me walking into the Watson house on Brooks’s arm would only make the entire situation so much worse.
Chapter Ten
Brooks
My parents have called me twenty times today, so it’s a safe assumption they’ve seen the picture of Lottie and me at the altar. I’ve sent them to voicemail every time because I had more important things to take care of. Their lectures could wait. Lottie was my priority—she’ll always be my priority. But now that I’ve asked Lottie to wait until tomorrow to talk, I need to deal with them. It’s not going to go well. That much I know.
I park my truck in my parents’ driveway. They moved into the heart of Willowbrook once I was out of the house, selling off every piece of my mom’s family land that ever meant anything to us. They traded legacy for a mini mansion that screams power and money, two things my father has always cared more about than family.
I hate everything about the four white pillars out front and the red brick and the black shutters. It’s a house built for appearances, not to be a home. To remind everyone who holds the leash in our town.
I walk up the brick walkway toward the front door, where a bronze sign sits in the bushes welcoming me to Mayor Watson’s residence. No mention of my mother, of course. Always just him.
My knuckles rap on the door, and I hear the shuffling of feet on the other side. I know who it is. Only one person would get up off the sofa at this hour.
The door opens, and as I predicted, my mom stands there in her matching polka-dot pajamas, robe, and slippers. “We expected you in the morning.”
She steps aside, and I stroll in, thinking that maybe I should’ve come after I showered.
“I figured we could get this over with.” I toe out of my shoes and walk toward the family room, where I can hear the nightly news on the television.
“Your dad is tired and upset. You should let him sleep on it.” She follows me, but my footsteps don’t falter because a night’s sleep won’t change anything.
My dad pretends he didn’t hear the doorbell or my voice in the foyer, and I find him sitting in his brown leather chair, ankles crossed, feet in slippers on the ottoman. He acts as if he’s running the whole damn country, not a small town nobody cares about outside our borders.
“Dad,” I say, rounding the couch and sitting in the chair on the other side of the room.
My mom passes me and sits on the edge of the couch, as though she’s prepared to flee at any moment. The familiar ache settles in as my jaw tightens.
