Page 6 of Sweet Caroline
Okay,lessmight be too generous.
“Wish I could just skip it, honestly.” I grimace slightly, feeling guilty about the idea of bailing on Adrian; I’d promised myself I wouldn’t miss a single event when I left Seattle.
“You could.”
“Um, no, I absolutely could not.” I pull open the door to Bean Bag Coffee and get in line.
Ditching this party is not an option. Dad’s annual donations to Found Family are instrumental in running the charity. In the early days, his public support and political contacts were what got it off the ground. The least I can do is paint on a smile and fake it with Fletcher—help Dad out until the election. That’s what a good daughter would do.
Plus, there will be press coverage. I have to show up—as both a devoted daughteranddevoted cofounder. I will be positively oozing devotion in all directions.
“Uh, well,” he deadpans, “after you quit on me last year, I never put anything past you.”
“Well, technically, I quit on my dad,” I correct him, though I can’t deny his snarky tone lifts my spirits. “And you know I needed to move here for Grandpa.”
Dad still rolls his eyes to this day about my decision to leave Seattle and move in with my grandfather, and not just because I quit working for him. With his sights permanently set on the fast-paced political scene, Dad has never grasped why Grandpa—or anyone, for that matter—would choose a small town over the big city. We had the money to pay for whatever level of care was necessary after Grandpa’s fall, he’d argued. I didn’t need to personally help out.
But it wasn’t about that for me.
Grandpa is one of my favorite people and he’s been more of a father figure to me than Dad has, in a lot of ways. We’ve always had a special bond, preferring the quiet, simple pleasures in life over the extravagance my parents enjoy. After Grandma died a few years ago, we’ve only gotten closer. And we make pretty good roomies, it turns out.
I put in the order for Sunny’s coffee and pay the barista.
“Anyway,” Adrian starts, changing the subject as if he can sense I need a distraction, “how’s my hometown treating you?”
Having grown up here before moving to Seattle for college, he’s effectively swapped places with me—upgrading to the big city while I’ve fled to small town Lennox Valley.
“Still loving it,” I reply honestly. Lennox has had my heart since I was a little girl spending summers here with my grandparents; I’d never wanted to leave.
“Except for how much you miss me.”
“Obviously.” I step aside to let a mother with a stroller grab her enormous iced coffee. “I know my dad still doesn’t get it. It’s… Idunno, I can’t explain why, but Lennox feels more like home than Seattle ever did.”
The truth is, even after a year, I’m still just as enamored with living here as always.
“And I know leaving you and Found Family was unfortunate collateral damage, but I’m still your cofounder for life. I’ll still help out where I can. So you’re stuck with me.”
“Whatever. You left me and crushed my soul and I’ll never recover.”
I scoff. “Don’t act like you hate being in charge of everything and everybody now that I’m gone.”
Adrian laughs. “Touché, touché.” He lets out a whooshing sigh. “And, hey, speaking of crushed souls, at least this soul-crushing shit with Fletch ends in a few more weeks.”
“It can’t come soon enough.”
Once votes are cast, I can finally ditch my ex and never speak to that cheating bastard again. Or at least try. Because, unless my dad loses and kicks Fletcher to the curb, he isn’t going anywhere. But a girl can dream.
Just the idea that I’d dream about Dad losing flings guilt through me like a handful of glitter. So much for being a good daughter. Pretty sure agooddaughter wouldn’t wish harm on her father’s political career—especially one she helped build.
The barista slides me Sunny’s coffee, and I mouththank youbefore I turn to go. When I push outside once again, the construction noise kicks me square in the eardrums and Adrian says something I don’t catch.
“What?” I turn away from the drilling and go to plug my other ear, but stop myself before I spill hot coffee down my neck. “It’s loud out here, sorry.”
“We should celebrate once it’s over,” Adrian shouts again into the phone.
“Oh, sure,” I reply, my heart not really in it.
I’d probably feel better if I could go public about the breakup, but the polls have been neck and neck lately. I can’t ask Dad to risk the election just to let my breakup with Fletcher out of the bag. Between Dad’s singular focus on votes and Mom pleading with me to hang on a little longer, the pressure is on to suck it up. There’s no turning back now; I made a promise to my father. As much as Dad can frustrate me, and as much as I may regret signing up for self-inflicted purgatory at Fletcher’s side, there’s too much at stake with so many eyes on my family.
