Page 129 of Playbook
God, she’s so understanding. I love her for that. I love her, period. And it’s just about the worst fucking time to have that realization.
I let out a long breath, already wishing I could run after her. But fuck, she deserves so much better. If my own fucking parents don’t want me, why would anyone else?
THIRTY-FOUR
Iinvite Paige over the following day so I can unload and get another opinion. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around everything that’s happened the last twenty-four hours.
“I’d like to buy him a drink. God, I wish I could have seen your dad’s face. Did that vein in his forehead bulge?” Paige’s eyes light up with excitement at the visual.
“I don’t know. Brogan ran off and then I followed…” I groan and fall over onto the couch, burying my head in a throw pillow. “I pushed him too hard.”
“He said he was fine.”
“But I knew he wasn’t. I could tell he was faking it and I dragged him into my family drama while he was still reeling from his own.”
“You couldn’t have known that it was going to end with him yelling at your dad.”
“No, I definitely never imagined that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Nothing. He said he needed some time.”
She gives me a sympathetic smile, then comes to sit next to me and lets me rest my head in her lap. She strokes my hair, and I close my eyes and let all the sadness wash over me.
“What if he never lets me in?”
“Then we’ll get Pat to recruit some friends to jump him.”
The image makes me laugh. “They’d probably fangirl instead.”
She joins in with my laughter. “My hubby’s got my back.”
She’s just stating facts, but it twists the knife in my gut. Brogan has my back, but he won’t let me have his. Or maybe he just can’t. I don’t know what to do. But I miss him.
Over the next week, I do my best to not hover or worry about Brogan. I fail miserably, but I keep busy. There is an endless list of wedding to-do’s now that the wedding is only weeks away.
Today I’m distracting myself at Sierra’s apartment where I am inundated with little name cards. Her calligrapher bailed at the last minute and what good is an artsy sister if she won’t handwrite a few names? That was her pitch, which was only convincing because I need the distraction. And for the record, a few turned out to be a hundred. Twice as many, really, since nearly a third of them are quickly placed in the redo pile.
“Have you talked to Dad?” she asks only when I’m on the last stack of twenty cards.
“No.” I glance up after I finish writingGretchen. The G is a little wonky, but I’m not redoing it. “Have you?”
“No. I’m on your side.”
“I don’t want there to be sides.” Especially right before the big day. Especially after comparing it to what Brogan is going through. I’m still hurt that my parents don’t support me, but it doesn’t feel as important as it did. “Everything is such a mess.”
“Look, I’m not thrilled you and Dad aren’t speaking thirteen days before the wedding, but it was bound to happen eventually. And bad timing aside, I’m glad Brogan said something. You never would have, and Dad needed to hear it.”
I avert my stare back to the next name on the list. Sierra reaches out and places a hand over mine, stopping me from my task.
“I’m sorry that it wasn’t me. It should have been.”
“No.” I look up, surprised that she’s trying to take it on. “I don’t blame you at all. If anyone was going to say something, it should have beenme.”
“I have listened to Dad dismiss and disregard your art since we were kids. Little jabs or acting like it wasn’t as impressive as me winning a trophy in whatever sport I was playing. I liked that he was proud of me and I think I was afraid that if I did speak up, I’d lose that special bond with him. You are so brave for following your dreams.”
I drop the pen and place my other hand on top of hers. “It was a fucked situation. I would have probably done the same if I were you.”
