Page 6 of Wingwoman
The thought slammed into me before I had the sense to stop it: I didn’t need her tofindme a muse.She is my muse.
Then without warning, she spun, turning her back to me once more.
Oh, this was going to be fun. Just ask Picasso. Any good muse is earned, and not easily either.
I threw down a couple of twenties on the table for Matt’s and my drinks and after snapping a few selfies with some fans, I slid out of the bar while texting Matt.
Josh:
I’m in. I’ll reach out to this wingwoman tomorrow.
Three
HOPE
The glass screenof my iPhone was pressed between my cheek and shoulder as I fumbled with my grocery bags and keys. “Are you coming home tonight?” I asked.
Dad chuckled. “I am home, Lovebug” he said. “I’ve been living with Viv for a while now.”
I knew that, of course. But he had come back to his condo to stay with me the first few nights I was here.
‘Bonding’ he’d called it. Micromanaging is what I called it.
“Why do you keep this place then?” I asked him.
He was quiet for a moment as I hiked my grocery bag higher on my hip and kicked my car door shut. “Vivian and I talked about it and we both thought it would be a wise investment to hold onto it. Properties around here are going up in value and with the short term rental market being so strong, we thought we could earn a nice side hustle renting it out. Unless of course you wanted to move here full time…”
“Dad,” I warned.
“Okay, okay. No pressure. I’m just saying. It’s here beyond the two months you need it.”
“So then, you won’t be coming back to stay over?” I asked, getting us back on topic.
“I won’t,” Dad reassured me. “I’ll treat that like it’s your apartment for the next two months. No unannounced visits.”
“Okay, cool.” I answered, masking how relieved I was. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my dad—I did, more than anything. But he was a lot to take. And having to live with him for two months might have destroyed us both. Living with each other through most of my childhood nearly did.
Hell, I hadn’t planned on moving back in with my father at age twenty-eight. Yet, here I was. I’d left all of my furniture in New York in the apartment Brent and I shared. He could have it all.
In one night, I packed as much as I could into a few suitcases and hopped on the flight down here to Austin to stay with my dad. It wasn’t the best plan in retrospect. But I needed to be down here for the wedding anyway. And I couldn’t stay in New York. Not wheneverylittle thing reminded me of Brent.
“You know,” Dad said, “Viv really wants you to be a part of the bachelorette party.”
I swallowed my groan. He’d already brought up this damn bachelorette party three times since I arrived in Texas. He wasn’t quite begging… yet. But when it came to women? They were his kryptonite. And Viv knew exactly where to shove those crystals to bring my dad to his knees.
“Dad, she has three daughters. I’m sure I won’t be missed.” Especially not once the tequila is poured and the banana hammocks go flying.
“Please, Lovebug. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. That’s why you’re here for these two months, isn’t it? To be a part of all these wedding things?”
I gulped. I hadn’t admitted to my dad the truth of why I came down yet. Though I assume he suspected. Occasionally, his eyes would drift to my bare ring finger—which only a few months ago had worn a 1-karat square-cut diamond.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat. It wasn’t freaking fair that my fifty-year-old dad was getting to celebrate his fourth wedding while my one engagement had crumbled like dust in the wind.
And he barely even knew Viv. They’d been dating just shy of a year. I knew Brent for four years and still couldn’t cross that finish line.
I squeezed my eyes shut briefly. “Right,” I whispered, not able to admit any of that just yet. I got my stubbornness from my dad and compared to him? I was a novice. Minor leagues to his major leagues. Peewee football to his NFL. “I just signed a new client so I have to make sure she doesn’t schedule me the night of the bachelorette party.” Oh, you can bet your ass she was going to schedule me for that night. Even if I had to offer it pro bono.
I could practically hear Dad’s smile on the other end of the phone. “Wonderful, I’ll tell Viv!”
