Page 100 of Just One Season
I… don’t care what my father thinks of me.
Richard is sitting across the room at a table alone, sipping a glass of amber-colored liquid. Guess his wife didn’t feel the need to join us.
Atticus follows the hostess, and I trail behind, with Kellen bringing up the rear. I can feel his stare on my back, and he touches my elbow. Now he can touch me openly because we have an excuse. An audience of my father.
We’re putting on another performance.
“Ready for this?” he asks when I slow.
“Sure.” I nod, then crinkle my nose. “Actually? No, not really. I kinda wish we’d cancelled.” Not cancelled bringing Kellen home to D.C. but cancelled seeing my father.
But that was the whole point.
“It’ll be fine. Just hold my hand.” Kellen winks at me before grabbing my hand and linking our fingers together. I breathe out a laugh and my anxiety decreases just a tad.
Dad stands at the table and shakes Atticus’s hand, then steps forward to embrace me. Unlike my mom’s hug, this one is not nearly as warm or loving. More like a stiff, compulsory pat on the back.
“How are you, Lucy darling?” Dad steps back to study my face, ignoring Kellen standing next to me.
He knows who Kellen is. I told him Kellen was joining us for Thanksgiving. That he’s a star hockey player. Atticus’s teammate.
My boyfriend.
“Great.” I step back. “Dad, this is Kellen. My boyfriend.”
“Ah. I didn’t realize you were bringing someone, Lucy.” Richard makes a face, like he truly didn’t know.
“Yes, you did. I told you.”
“Well. Hello.” There’s no follow up of an interesting question or a welcome or anything. Dad holds out his hand, and Kellen pumps it a little too hard.
“Where’s Carrie?” I look around pointedly, as if she’s hiding under a table or behind a plant. Dad’s fourth wife is nice enough,but she’s not been overly interested in hanging with me, even when I lived in D.C.
“My wife is with her sister this evening. She sends her apologies and greetings.”
She probably doesn’t want to spend any more time than required with my father.
We settle in our seats. Richard orders another whisky, Kellen orders a bottle of wine, and I pick a bunch of appetizers for the table. No one is particularly hungry after our meal with Mom earlier. Richard glances at the entrance to the restaurant. It’s quiet, but there are more people than I’d have thought on Thanksgiving night. I guess not everyone has someone cooking them a delicious meal.
“How are things in Colorado?” Dad turns to me.
“Awesome,” I say, a touch too brightly. “Everything is going great.”
Dad gives a sidelong glance at Kellen.
“I’ve heard you’ve been keeping busy.” He emphasizes the wordbusy, as if it’s dirty.
I blink. To be fair, I did do a few dirty things.
Atticus snorts.
Dad drains his golden drink.
A server brings his refill plus three glasses and a bottle of Malbec. After Kellen approves the wine, the server pours, and I eagerly grab one and not-gracefully take a large gulp before responding.
Idon’t have a game tomorrow.
“Work is going great. I love working for the Blizzard, actually. It’s a lot of fun. The administrative staff gets included in team building and other activities. It’s a really positive vibe.” The words pour out of me in a rambling sort of way, and my voice is too high and tinny.
