Page 118 of Close Match
I swallow to try to get moisture back in my mouth. Right now, my soul’s so mentally exhausted, it comes out harsh when I ask, “Am I expected to write back?”
Her hand comes to lay on top of mine. “Only if you want to. If there’s a message or anything you want to send, I can get that there as well.”
“Should I read it here?”
“I think you should read it wherever you feel most comfortable.”
An idea flashes into my mind. “Would it be impossible to have our session on FaceTime next week?”
“If you plan on actually attending it, it won’t be a problem. Why?”
“Because I want to read it at my father’s. I don’t want to bring Monty to New York. Not just yet.” And depending on what it says, maybe not ever.
Audrey’s hand squeezes mine firmly. “Then, yes, I’m available for a session. Go see your father.”
Standing, I hug her. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. And hopefully, by the time we talk next, I’ll know more about how to handle those.” She nods toward her desk where my mother’s journals lie.
Slipping the envelope into my bag, I sling it over my shoulder. With a halfhearted smile, I duck out of Audrey’s office.
* * *
The manila envelopesits on the edge of my kitchen counter taunting me to open it all week. Every day I go to work, and every night it pulls at me. Just like Monty does in my dreams. But I was serious about what I said to Audrey. I’m not ready to invite Monty here, especially after what seeing the hateful side of my mother did to me.
I called Dad and Char to let them know I’d be arranging for my understudy to take the second show on Sunday and when I’d be arriving. As I step off the small private jet at Dulles Airport, I grab my weekender bag and walk through the VIP terminal briskly. When I see Char waiting for me just beyond security, I walk straight into her arms. “I could have rented a car,” I murmur into her hair.
“Your father wouldn’t hear of it. Now, come on, he’s likely run out of his data plan by now.” She reaches for my bag, but I hold it out of her reach.
“It’s not heavy. But wait, Dad’s here?”
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he is.”
I tuck my arm beneath hers. “I’m glad I came here to do this.”
“To do what?”
I shake my head. “I’ll explain in the car.”
We step out of the warmth of the VIP area, and there’s Dad’s Lexus. “Sit up front with him, Linnie,” Char urges.
“You sure?’
“Positive, honey.”
Walking up to the passenger side door, I open it to hear, “…you would think I’d have better reception than this. This is utterly ridiculous. We pay how much to have a hot spot in this car? I’m going to write to the provider tonight.”
“You tell them, Dad,” I tease. His head snaps up, and a broad smile crosses his face. God, even though I saw him two weeks ago, he looks better than before.
“Linnie, I swear you just keep getting more beautiful,” he declares.
I laugh as I slide in. “I look like a wreck.”
“You look perfect.” Once I close the door, he leans over and gives me a one-armed hug. “Buckle up and let’s head home.”
Home. Now I understand why I came here to read Monty’s letters. It wasn’t because I wanted to keep Monty out of New York; it’s because I want the cushion of home if the pain causes me to stumble and fall. What I don’t understand is when did New York stop being home?
Relaxing back against my seat, I realize it was somewhere between meeting my father, trusting his wife, and falling in love with his stepson.
