Page 16 of The Merger
I get to my feet and make my way down the hallway toward the foyer.
“You don’t have any food allergies, do you?” Aurora asks from a half bath tucked beneath the stairs.
“I don’t.”
“I should’ve asked before you came, but I didn’t have your number, and Kent kept forgetting to give it to me. Maybe we could swap numbers before you leave?”
A smile ghosts my lips. It took a year of marriage to get to the numbers-swapping point, but hey—it’s progress. And that progress helps me relax a little. “That would be great.”
My shoulders soften, and I exhale softly. Families are complicated.
“I love what you’ve done with this place,” I call out to Aurora while admiring a beautiful chandelier overhead.
“It’s not finished by any means. I’ve been picking at it on my days off work. It’s a challenge to mesh my style with Kent’s. I’m bohemian farmhouse, if that’s a thing. And he’s … messy bachelor.”
Our laughter blends, bringing me a bit more at ease.
I spy a gallery wall in the adjacent living room and make my way there. Silver frames of all sizes cover one wall. One by one, I take in the photographs—smiling faces captured across time and the world. Dad and Aurora in Vegas. Aurora in Paris. Dad at a lake with his head tipped back in laughter. There are pictures of them with people I don’t know and intimate photographs of them in front of a fireplace.
Their life is happy and full, and I’m thrilled for them. But a part of me is bitter that there isn’t a place for me in their world beyond random dinners here and there. Worst of all? I feel guilty that I feel bitter about it.
Maybe it’s life that’s complicated.
My throat constricts, and I clench my wineglass tighter.
“Crap,” I whisper, my buzzing phone in my pocket making me jump. “I thought I left this in the car.”
I pull the device out and see Tate’s name on the screen.
Tate: So how’s it going over there, buttercup?
Me: Dad’s not even here.
Tate: Is Aurora being nice?
Me: Oh, she’s always nice. It’s just … weird. It feels so performative, you know? None of us really wants to be doing this. So why are we?
Tate: Want me to pick you up? We can grab dinner at the karaoke bar and heckle the singers.
Me:
Tate: I offered.
The back door closes, and Dad’s voice trickles into the foyer. It sends a flurry of adrenaline through my veins.Here we go.
Me: Dad just got here. Wish me luck.
Tate: If it gets out of hand, text me. I’ll come with my charm and de-pants your hot stepmommy.
Me:
I take a quick gulp of wine and make my way back into the kitchen.
“No, it’s okay,” Aurora says as my father inspects her side. “It doesn’t hurt too bad. I’m seeing the doctor tomorrow.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because you were at work, and it’s not like I was dying.” Her giggle is sweet as she scoops my father’s face up in her hands. “How was your day?”
