Page 7 of Beautiful Desire
Arching a brow, I say, “You wanna ride with me, you’ll sit your ass in the back and be happy about it. My car, my rules.”
Fletcher glowers at me, nostrils flaring on a heavy exhale, and I swear, the amount of joy his annoyance brings me is unreal. After a long, tense pause, he rolls his eyes before opening the back passenger door and climbing inside.
“Wow, hedoeslisten,” I drawl sarcastically before putting the car in drive. “I’m shocked.”
Opening the passenger side, Fletcher looks from the seat to me. “Why’s your car such a fucking mess?”
“This isn’t messy,” I mutter as I pull away from the curb.
“Then why does it look like it?”
“Why doyoulook likethat?” I counter, cocking my head to the side.
“Like what?” he asks, a smirk tugging on his lips. “Handsome? Dashing? Se?—”
“Like you’ve glued a caterpillar to your upper lip,” I cut him off with a forced smile. “It takes a very specific type of man to pull off a mustache, and hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it ain’t you, babe.”
Fletcher’s brow furrows, lips twisting into a frown for a second before he huffs out a laugh. “Bullshit. The ladies love the ’stache.”
I snort. “Right. Or they tell you that because they feel sorry for you. What did you do that’s so bad, your dad couldn’t stand to see you in his office any longer, anyway?” I ask, curiosity eating at me. “Not that I can blame him. I can’t stand to be around you either, yet here we are.”
Eyes narrowing, he scowls at me in the rearview mirror. “None of your fucking business.” Other than grumbling under his breath, Fletcher doesn’t say another word the whole way to my dad and stepmom’s house. Parking along the curb, I turn off the car and climb out, taking in the handful of construction workers coming and going from the house.
“Why are you always so bitchy?” he asks, but I don’t bother with a response as I make my way across the yard, toward the back, where my dad has their RV set up. They’ve been living in this damn thing for the last five months while their house is being remodeled. I truly cannot fathom living in such close quarters with another human being for that long.
Sitting in a couple of lawn chairs under a huge umbrella attached to the table in front of the RV, my dad and his wife sip on what looks to be sweet tea while they’re lost in conversation with one another. Clearing my throat, they both turn their heads, smiles curving their lips when they spot us.
“Well, what a nice surprise,” Denise says, setting her glass on the table as she gets up and walks over to her son, pulling him in for a hug. “Did you just get in town, dear?”
“Why the hell is Fletcher under the impression that he’s staying with me?” I blurt out, not bothering to keep the annoyance out of my tone.
“Oh, crap.” Denise glances over at me, hands coming up to her face as she winces. “I’m so sorry, honey. Things have been so hectic this week with the pipes bursting, it completely slipped my mind to give you a call last night after talking to Fletcher.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.” I cross my arms over my chest as my gaze bounces between her and my dad.
My dad pulls their dog onto his lap, running a hand lovingly down her back before glancing over at me and saying, “Honey, Fletcher needs to stay with you while we get this remodel back on track.”
It’s not a question or a suggestion. It’s what they’ve decided to be the plan, all without saying a word to me about it, and it pisses me the fuck off.
“Why?” I bark. “I’m sorry about the setback, but why is any of this suddenlymyproblem? And why wasn’t I consulted aboutany of this, when it’smyhouse and personal space being offered up?”
“Georgie, as Denise said, it wasn’t intentional.” My dad sighs, as ifI’mbeing unreasonable. “It was a simple slip of the mind, that’s all. This is a temporary arrangement, and it’s not like you don’t have the space, so what’s the big deal?”
My jaw pops as I grind down on my molars, dragging in a deep breath through my nose before exhaling through my mouth, finding the self-control in me to not lose my shit on my father right now. Everything about what he just said is incredibly insensitive, and even though I know he doesn’t mean it that way, it doesn’t make it any less infuriating.
“Did you ask Gemma, Grace, or Graham if they could lend a spare bed for Fletcher to occupy?”Somehow, I already know the answer.
My dad glances over at his wife, and they share a look before she turns her attention to me, and says, “No, honey, we didn’t.” Her eyes soften as they continue. “I know this isn’t ideal, and we wouldn’t ask if we had any other option.”
“Nobody asked,” I cut her off. “This entire decision was made for me,withoutme, and I was an afterthought. Sure, I have the space in my house, but so do my sisters, so does my brother. In fact, GemmaandGraham both just bought new, larger homes. Yet, it’s me having to open upmyspace, and without even asking. Y’all are just expecting me to do it, and I want to know why.”
I know why; it’s the same reason why my father has always volunteered me for shit without bothering to get my opinion or feelings on it, but I want to hear them say it. The air is tense as silence hangs between us, because my dadknowshow I feel about this.
“Come on, Dad,” I push, gesturing a hand in front of me. “Why was I the first and only option in this little predicament ofyours? Why am I the one expected to let him live with me, eat my food, and leave his stuff all over my house, when I can almost bet he won’t be helping out with anything. Why my house, and not one of your other three capable children?”
Still petting the dog, he glances down at her, breathing out a sigh before fixing his gaze on me again. “Georgie, you know Gemma has Sutton and Rosie,” he offers, keeping his voice even and gentle. “They’ve got their hands full. Grace’s house is a three-bedroom, and you know Beau and Blakely have their own rooms, so unless Fletcher took the couch, she doesn’t have the space.
“And there’s no way I’m sleeping on a couch every night,” Fletcher chimes in, somehow pissing me off even more than I already am, which is quite a feat.
