Page 113 of The Invitation
Even if it kills me.
With the door locked behind me, I sob.
Chapter Thirty
Ripley
Waffles nudgesmy leg with his nose.
“I know, buddy,” I say, downing another shot of tequila. “Give me a second.”
He barks, as if that’s not good enough.
“That’s the theme of the day,” I say.
I sit at the island, hunched over. The cameras are still sitting where we left them this morning. The pan of burnt turkey bacon is on the stove. A single white chocolate macadamia nut cookie is on the counter, and I want to fucking cry.
My insides ache with a hollowness, a sickness, that extends deep into my soul. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut repeatedly and left to die.
Felicity’s words echo alongside my father’s in my head. It occurs to me why they would’ve been attracted to each other. They’re both horrible people who like to manipulate those around them to get what they want.
If karma was real, they would’ve ended up together.
“Fucking hell,” I say slumping against the counter. “This is bullshit. All of it.”
What’s really bullshit? Is it that our parents are selfish assholes, or is it that I’m afraid Georgia might believe the things both of our parents said about me?
My phone rings and I jump, knocking my glass down the island as I reach for the call. But my heart drops when I see it’s not Georgia.
“Hey,” I say, pulling my glass back to me again.
“Sutton just got off the phone with Georgia. Are you okay?” Jeremiah asks.
“I’m drinking tequila.”
“Shit.” He takes a deep, frustrated breath. “Want me to come over?”
“Nope. Sure don’t.”
“Hey, Ripley. It’s Sutton.”
“Hey,” I say.
“What can I do for you?” she asks.
I take another shot for good measure. “Is she okay?”
“She will be.”
“Her mother is a piece of fucking work. You should’ve heard the shit she was saying—and I don’t even care about the stuff she said about me. You should’ve heard the way she spoke to Georgia.”
Sutton sighs. “I know. This has been a long time coming. But this relationship is important to Georgia, even if it’s unhealthy.”
“So what do I do? If anyone else in the world had talked to her like that, I would’ve stepped in and ended it.” My stomach curls, threatening to launch the tequila across the kitchen. “But it’s her mom, and she’s been very clear that she wants to preserve that relationship. So what do I do? I feel like I failed her today.”
I hold my head, disgusted with myself.
Maybe my dad was right. Maybe I am good for nothing.
